Page 8 of Defiant Devotion

I did know my sister back home, though, and I was equally filled with rage to protect her from being taken without our uncle or father in charge of the family.

This wasit.

The time had come, and there wouldn’t be second chances.

If it was the last thing I did, I had to break out of here and get back to my family.

Keeping my narrowed gaze on the closed door of my locked room, I backed up steadily. Those two men would be coming in here tomorrow to transport me. They’d unlock the hardware, step inside my cell, and approach me to drag me toward my fiancé.

Not happening.

Once more, until I’d have my strategy memorized without error, I retraced my steps and practiced how I could evade them and escape. Over and over, with this burning need to defy them all, I rehearsed how I’d slip the hidden knife out from its hiding place under my mattress. How I’d play dead and feign my submission until one came close enough for me to stab him. Then howquickly I’d need to move to the other side of the room to lure the second man there.

In my mind, I envisioned the escape. I imagined every step of the way that would lead me toward the window, keys in my hand, enabled to get out of here and flee.

Tomorrow, it will be time.

Nodding to myself, I went through the routine again, faking the attack and danger that would come as I fought back and escaped. Like a mime stuck in a never-ending rehearsal, I prepared to fight my captors and get away.

Because if I couldn’t, if I didn’t, it wouldn’t just be my life on the line.

My unborn baby’s life depended on this escape.

My unwed sister’s fate relied on my ability to flee and return to her at home.

I won’t let anyone hurt you. I vowed it as I stared out the window, placing my hand over my stomach once more as though I could protect the precious new life that grew there just by covering the slight bump that was already growing from my one night with the sexy stranger.

I’d been hurt and tortured enough for one lifetime, and I’d be damned if I wouldn’t do all that I could to prevent any more harm intended for my family.

4

BEN

Lev didn’t reach out to me again about the hit on O’Malley. In the days after his wedding, that night his father-in-law fell over dead at the reception, he failed to resume contacting me about the hit the Baranovs wanted done.

I didn’t expect him to follow up so soon. He was busy. With Eva as his new wife and this sudden death at the oddest timing, of course, he was busy.

But he wasn’t the only one busy about Boris Baranov falling over dead. I wanted to know what happened that night, too. Actively investigating it was my course of action.

And that was why I was under disguise as a waiter at an Ilyin-owned restaurant uptown. It was a perfect and simple cover to listen in on Igor Petrov and Geoff Ilyin, one of the leaders for that family. Those two leaders had come here to discuss the very same matter that was on everyone’s minds—Boris’s death. It had rocked the Mafia world, and no one would claim the death or admit they’d acted on murder.

“You didn’t have him killed that night?” Geoff asked Igor, his face stern and impatient.

“No.” Igor scoffed, smirking. “Why would I waste time putting a hit on Boris Baranov? He was a useless drunk with no power.”

Geoff nodded. “But youhavewasted time putting other hits out before.” His smile was taunting and cruel.

“Oh, shut up.” Igor scowled, clearly displeased with this reminder.

“Only you would try to save money and hire amateurs to take out a Baranov,” Geoff said wryly.

“Yes, to take out Oleg. Not Boris,” Igor replied. “And it’s not my fault I tried to shop around.” He rubbed the back of his head, frowning as he seemed to think back to that time. “I couldn’t get ahold of that one militant, Warner.”

Liar.

Igor Petrov had contacted me and asked me to take out Oleg Baranov. I hadn’t made up my mind on accepting that job, though. Too impatient for action, Igor had instead gone to subpar amateur killers for hire—who’d failed. All they’d done was put a bullet in Rurik’s arm when he’d guarded his boss.

“We’re still not pleased about how things shook out with the hitweput on Lev Kvashnin.” Geoff lifted his chin and looked down at Igor. “The hit you agreed to assist us with.”

---