Page 18 of The Bratva's Hostage Bride

“No, we’re taking you to the Capone.” He looks at me with an evil smile. “He’s ready to see you now.”

They lift me and escort me into a large room. “You’ll have to forgive me. I am loaning this house from some Italians while I’m visiting,” a man says from over by the window.

He’s dressed smartly, in an expensive suit and shiny shoes. “You must understand,” he explains, “that we’re New Yorkers originally trying to spread our territory to Las Vegas. We have to do certain things to get the attention of your friends.”

I stare at him for the longest time and then smile. “You definitely have the wrong person. The only friend I have is my cousin Meryl, and she’s just a normal everyday girl. I think you have the wrong person, sir. If you just drop me off at the bookstore, we can act like nothing ever happened.”

He bursts out laughing, and despite it supposedly being a joyous sound, I flinch as though he’s struck me. The two men sit me down in a chair in the center of the room.

“You are sweet, child. The men are right, though. You are naive. It makes it a little sweeter to have taken you. Your boyfriend must surely miss you.” He sits opposite me.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I comment nervously. “Please, there must be a misunderstanding.”

“Did you or did you not go home in Luka Milov's arms last night after he protected you at his club?” the man asks.

“Luka Milov? Yes, I did but…”

“Then you see, we don’t have a misunderstanding.” He spreads his arms as if to welcome me to a family.

“No, there is a misunderstanding. Luka isn’t my boyfriend. He just helped me out last night. I don’t even know the guy.” I blubber before bursting into tears. “I was at the casino for my cousin who’s getting married, and, yes, Luka Milov did save me and take me to his house, but that’s the only interaction I’ve ever had with him. Please let me go.”

“You better hope you’ve had more interaction than that,” the man says. “Or Luka might not come for you, and if I have no use for you, then why would I keep you? I’m not going to let you go so you can run off to the police.”

The tears flow freely down my face, and a man comes forward and wipes it. They gag me and tie me to this chair now before they take my photo.

The boss, this Capone, leans down in front of me. “Luka Milov has no idea what’s about to hit him, and if he knows what’s good for him, he’ll give in to our demands, or we’ll systematically pick off everyone he loves.” He stands, and I try to speak.

He removes my gag. “What is it?”

“Are you a serial killer?” I ask, scared. “Because I can tell you now, I’m not going to get you any attention.”

He chuckles. “I’m not a serial killer. I’m more of a family man, just like Luka. Now, sit tight while we get the photo to Luka and make my demands. Be a good girl.” He strokes my face, and I feel ill.

He gags me again, and I sit there, staring out the window at the blue skies. Will Luka save me? He doesn’t even know me. Why would he save me? And what is he involved in that people are kidnapping me to get to him?

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I hear a crash downstairs and screams. I whimper through my gag, but when I hear gunshots, I start to cry. I sob through my gag, and it makes me feel sick.

A burly man who looks familiar comes barreling into the room, looking around. He walks over to me and pulls my gag off. “Hannah?”

I nod, sobbing. I look at the blood spatter on his clothes and arms and the smoking gun in his hand. I don’t know what happens next because everything just goes black.

I groan as I wake up. I feel like I have the world’s worst head cold. I remember where I’d been, and I’m scared to open my eyes. I’m lying in a comfortable bed. One that I’m certain I’ve been in before. I open my eyes and look around.

I am in Luka’s bedroom, and I know this because he is sitting at the end of the bed typing on his phone.

I sit up quickly and say, “There were men with guns.”

He pockets his phone and moves closer to me. “Yes, I know,” he says. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into that. It was unfair of them to involve someone as innocent as you.”

I look around. “There were gunshots.”

“Yes, there were. My cousin Wynter doesn’t take kindly to men who start with our family. On that note, I guess I best explain. You’ve been caught up in some family business, and unfortunately, it isn’t safe for you to return to your apartment. I suggest you come to stay with me on my estate, where I can place you under twenty-four-hour guard so that the men don’t try to hurt you in retaliation to our rescue mission and the losses on their side.”

“Losses?” I ask quietly. “You mean those people died?”

I feel the tears prick in my eyes, and I move away from him. “What do you mean it isn’t safe? Why can’t I go to the police for protection.”

“I’m afraid we can’t involve the police in family business,” he says. “My brother won’t allow it, and honestly, we have better guards than some local cops that are going to hang out outside your apartment eating hotdogs and burgers.” He tries to give me a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t help.

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