Page 31 of A Mafia Mistress for Christmas

Stefan is much faster as he reaches for me, his hand curling around the base of my neck and forcing me down. He cuts off my air with a practiced squeeze in exactly the right place before hissing out, “Say one fucking word, Natasha, and I am going to make you suffer.”

“You’ve done enough damage.” The words are strangled, but at least they come out with enough poison to give him a start. “When is it going to be enough for you?”

There is nothing sane in his eyes anymore, nothing left of any shred of humanity he might have possessed once upon a time. “It’s never going to be enough.”

“I’m going to make you pay.”

He drags me closer, glaring at me. “There’s not a goddamn thing you can do.”

He wants to bet? I’ll take the gamble and watch him eat those words, one way or another.

The gunfire ceases long enough for Stefan to sneak a look above the credenza. Ermilo and the others are striding toward the door, done with us, with this entire fucking affair, but I have a feeling it won’t be for long. They’ll never let Stefan get away with this.

“Where the fuck are you going?” Stefan screams out after their retreating backs.

His hold loosens on me, and I scramble after Ermilo, only to have Stefan grab me by the ankle and drag me back. My nails scrape across the floor and crack, but it doesn’t stop my backward momentum. Any new screams are trapped in the back of my throat.

He throws himself over top of me, covering my body with his. Rather than letting him push me all the way to my stomach and use his weight against me, I buck, taking him by surprise with the roughness of the maneuver as I push up to my knees and thighs. My tailbone hits somewhere in his lower abdomen, and Stefan grunts, hot air ruffling the hairs by the side of my face.

He’s got his gun out, but the position is too strange for him to be able to balance himself and use it on me. My focus shifts, narrows, the plan changing on a dime to accommodate this new situation. Getting the gun away from him is my best chance at getting out of here. If I give him the chance to use it on me, then it’s all for nothing.

And Marco is hurt. He shot Marco without hesitation.

I follow the bucking motion with an elbow to his side, really grinding it in, even when Stefan only growls. There’s no time to second guess myself, to worry about all the things that have gone wrong. One step in front of the other, breathing even, attention where it matters the most.

He’s always underestimated me because of my size. Most people do. They see what they want to see and relax their guards because of it. I’m about to show Stefan exactly what a mistake he’s made.

I remember the press of the gun muzzle against my head, and I elbow him again out of spite, this time a little lower and without as much force, a warning shot for what’s to come.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He reaches for me, like this is all some kind of fucking foreplay. “You’re so small. You think a skinny thing like you could actually—”

He left his front open, and there’s enough room for me to whirl around and slam the palm of my hand up against his nose, breaking it in one move.

Stefan rears back with a roar, both hands going to the geysers of blood spewing from his nostrils. “You fucking little bitch!”

But the self-defense tactic works, and I’m able to wrangle the gun from Stefan’s limp grip before he sends it flying. I point it right at his face with deadly intent. “My name’s Agent Matthews, you fuckwad.”

As he lunges for me again, I pull the trigger, the click of the empty chamber sinking my heart. I keep pulling it, listening to those meaningless clicks as a feral light gleams in his eyes.

“Agent?” he hisses.

I hadn’t realized he’d fired off enough. Or maybe he’d only kept a few rounds in the chamber to begin with. It doesn’t matter now; I throw the piece at his head, and he jerks back to avoid the hit, the gun clattering uselessly against the wall.

There’s enough distance between us for me to make my escape and,there. Marco’s gun, inches from his feet, dropped when he went down. He hadn’t been able to use it, and I know he’s got a full chamber loaded.

I’m going to blow the head off this asshole.

At least, I will if I can get to it before Stefan—it’s a big if. Adrenaline lights a fire under my ass, in my blood. I scramble for it, only for Stefan to move faster and tackle me, catching my dress under his knees to stop my crawl right before he hits. This time, he expects my maneuvering and counteracts my buck by slamming me down into the floor.

My chin hits first, blinding pain shooting up from the crack of bone against the hardwood. Stars dance in front of my eyes.

“Enterprising little cunt, aren’t you?” he growls against my ear. “What kind of tricks are you going to pull out of your ass next? Doesn’t matter, though. You’re not getting out of here in one piece.”

He manages to get on his knees, his hands on either one of my wrists as he hauls me onto my back. Rather than going easy on me, he slaps me across the face hard enough for those stars to explode into supernovas.

“You think you can take me down? Break my goddamn nose?” He slaps me again, and the darkness at the edges of my vision creeps closer. “I’m going to make you pay for itall.”

Not likely, and not if I somehow get out of this. There’s still a shot.It’s Christmas… I push the fear aside and set my sights on the goal, which is disarming Stefan. Even without a gun, he’s dangerous. He slams me down again, and this time, my head cracks to the side, my teeth snapping down on my tongue, and I taste blood.

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