Bad Intentions by Tara Wyatt
19
Olivia pursed her lips as she studied the tile samples the contractor had left behind for the mosaic feature near the entryway of the bistro. The small building’s air conditioning had crapped out that morning, and she’d been at the site all day, meeting with contractors and suppliers and was just about ready to melt. They were a few weeks into the project, and everything was really starting to come together—minus the busted AC. Manhattan was usually sweltering in August, and today was no exception.
With the relentless heat, she was so looking forward to getting out of the city for a few days and heading to the beach. Lucian’s brother Max apparently had some amazing house out in the Hamptons, and he’d offered it to them to use this coming weekend. She couldn’t wait to have Lucian all to herself. Couldn’t wait to be hidden away someplace pretty, just the two of them. Because while she was still staying with him and had been for weeks now, life was hectic. He worked long hours and so did she, not to mention the underlying tension of still not knowing where Massimo was. It seemed as though he’d dropped off the face of the earth, and no one had heard from him or seen him in weeks. She was starting to let herself hope that he’d truly disappeared, but she knew Lucian was still on edge, waiting for him to show up. He and his men were still looking for him.
“Those ones are ugly,” said Killian, striding up beside her and squinting at the tiles. “Too gaudy.” He’d been her near constant companion any time she worked on site at the bistro, and she’d grown fond of him. He was rough around the edges, but she had a feeling that buried deep down—way deep down—was a sweetheart. For all of his gruffness, there was also kindness and humor there. He just didn’t always know how to express it.
She laughed. “They’re not my favorites either. I’m more partial to these.” She shifted the tiles around and then crouched down, arranging them on the floor in the pattern she liked best. “Maybe like this.”
Killian stood above her, his massive arms crossed over his chest, his head cocked. “That’s not so bad,” he agreed, nodding. “What’s that phrase I’ve heard you say?” He put on a posh, feminine voice. “They would really elevate the space.”
She laughed again and stood, giving him a gentle shove. “Hey! Don’t make fun of me.”
“I’m not. It’s serious business, picking out tiles and paint colors and making things look pretty.” She could see the twinkle in his eye and she shoved him again.
“Let me guess. Where you live, the walls are white and bare, you have a black leather couch and a king-sized bed with no headboard. The main draw in the living room is the enormous television. You probably can’t tell me what color your kitchen cabinets are. You might not even have curtains. Your kitchen table serves as a bar. How am I doing?”
He scowled at her. “Smartass girlie, pick your tiles so we can go home.” He jerked his head in the direction of the bathrooms. “Gotta take a leak.”
“And like I tell you every time, you don’t need to tell me that.”
He chuckled and sauntered off, and she returned her attention to the tiles, eliminating a few of the options. Her phone started to ring from where she’d left it on a nearby table, and she was surprised to see that it was already after six when she picked it up. Lucian’s name flashed across the screen, and she grinned. He was probably wondering when she’d be home.
“Hey, baby,” she answered.
“Olivia, can you come outside? I need to see you.”
She frowned, moving back to the tiles. “Is everything okay? You sound off.”
“Yes. I have a surprise for you.”
She grinned. “Oh, yeah? What kind of surprise?”
“Come out to the car parked in front and you’ll see. I promise you’ll like it, darling.”
She grabbed her purse and then looked over her shoulder at the men’s room where Killian had disappeared. Surely he didn’t need to accompany her to Lucian’s car, did he?
She squinted as she unlocked the door and then pushed it open, her eyes landing on a plain black SUV idling at the curb, her phone still pressed to her ear.
“Open the door.”
She’d barely closed her fingers around the door handle when it opened from the inside. A set of arms grabbed her roughly, hauling her inside. The door slammed sharply behind her. She was shoved down onto the bench seat, confusion giving way to panic as she heard a familiar laugh.
“Hello, Olivia.” Massimo smiled at her from the other side of the SUV. “Take her phone.” The SUV lurched forward with a squeal of tires, taking off down the street with such speed that she felt off balance.
She turned in time to see two hulking men—one of them must’ve been the one who’d grabbed her—glaring at her. One was bald with a nasty scar slicing across his cheek and over the bridge of his nose. The other was younger with short brown hair and tattoos covering almost every visible inch of his skin. He reached out and pulled her phone away. She tried to hang onto it, struggling, but then Massimo moved out of his seat and kicked her in the ribs. Pain shot down her side and she screamed, her grip on the phone loosening. She watched as the tattooed man snapped her phone in half and then tossed it on the floor.
She didn’t care that they were moving, she needed to get out of the SUV. Now. She scrabbled for the door, but it was no use. Pain exploded across her scalp as Massimo yanked her back by her hair, pulling her close to him.
“You’re so fucking stupid, you know that? You should never get in a car with strange men.” Then he laughed at his own joke, and the sound made her want to throw up. A clammy sweat broke out on her skin, her mind reeling with what to do. He yanked her hair again, laughing when she let out a pained whimper.
“She has gun in purse,” said the bald man in a thick Russian accent, rifling through her bag and pulling out her Glock. “Is loaded.” He removed the magazine from the gun, then threw them both into the front seat.
“Aw, cute,” said Massimo. The two men laughed and then said something in Russian. “If only you weren’t so stupid and gullible, maybe you would’ve had the chance to use it. I guess we’ll never know.”
The car took a careening turn and panic shot through her, making it hard to breathe. Making it hard to think. A tremble coursed through her and her eyes stung.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, trying to keep the shakiness out of her voice. Her eyes bounced around the inside of the SUV.
“To my house. Out of state.”
He pulled her hair again, so hard that she had no choice but to move where he wanted her. And where he wanted her was kneeling on the floor between his legs, her head on his lap. She could see the outline of his erection beneath his pants, making bile rise up in her throat.
“How did you sound like Lucian on the phone?” she asked, fighting back the nausea cresting over her.
He grinned down at her and held up his phone. “Voice modulator. Pretty neat, huh?”
She licked her lips and swallowed, not saying anything. God, she was so stupid. So incredibly stupid.
“I never intended to let you go, Olivia,” he said, stroking a hand over her cheek. She forced herself not to jerk back from his touch. Instinctively, she knew that fighting wouldn’t get her anywhere right now. Her best bet was to play along and cooperate until they’d reached wherever he was taking her. She was wearing the earrings with the tracking device in them, and when Killian saw that she was gone, Lucian and his men would come for her. She just needed to stay alive. Fighting Massimo wouldn’t help her stay alive.
“Even though I’m in love with another man?” she asked, earning another sharp tug on her stinging scalp.
“No, because you see, that makes this even better for me. Because now, I can do two things at once. I’ve got you, and I know that Lucian’s going to come looking for you. I’m not stupid. But I’ll get to kill Lucian and keep you. It’s a win-win for me.”
“Why do you want to kill Lucian?” she asked, licking her lips. Her mouth was dry, her pulse erratic in her throat.
“Because he’s in my way. I’ve formed an alliance with the Bratva, something he’d never allow. But guess what? We’re fucking sick of doing what he says. Sick of these stupid fucking rules that he enforces. Once he’s gone, we can do what we want.”
“And what’s that?”
“We’re going to take over Manhattan. Drugs. Prostitution. Money laundering. Weapons trafficking. We can do whatever we want, and we’ll have all the power and all the money with him out of the way.”
“So is this really about you wanting me, or your vendetta against the Kings of Hell’s Kitchen?”
“Oh, it’s both, my darling. I wanted you the second I laid eyes on you, and even after you broke it off with me, I wasn’t finished with you. You can’t give a man a taste of that sweet nectar and expect him to just walk away. That’s why I know Lucian will come for you.” He reached down and gave her breast a rough squeeze, and she closed her eyes, grinding her teeth together as revulsion rolled through her. She forced herself to take a deep breath, knowing she needed to stay calm. She couldn’t allow herself to panic or give in to the fear coursing through her. It didn’t matter where they were taking her—the earrings would work. Lucian would come. Everything would be okay.
Unless Massimo killed him.
Oh, fuck. She blinked rapidly, tears gathering in her eyes at the thought.
She angled her head, trying to look out the windows, but from her spot on the floor, she could only see blue sky and the very tops of buildings, nothing more. Massimo’s grip on her hair tightened and he pushed her face closer to his crotch.
“Been dreaming about getting this mouth on me again,” he said. Anger pushed up through her, and while she knew she needed to cooperate and stay alive, she couldn’t help herself from making a snarling sound.
“I’ll bite your little dick off if you try it, asshole.”
He just laughed and pushed her face into his crotch. “We’ll see, darling. We’ll see.” Then he yanked her head up by her hair again. “If you won’t cooperate with me, maybe I’ll just sell you after I put a bullet in Lucian. I know a Russian billionaire who’s looking to expand his harem.”
Her vision faded in and out around the edges as the panic resurfaced, making her shake. Her stomach felt as though it were filled with ice.
“That’s it,” he said when she didn’t say anything else. “Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t, isn’t that right?”
After that, he started ignoring her, but left his hand in her hair, left her face only inches from his dick for the rest of the ride. He spent the rest of the time talking with the two Russians, talking about plans for moving weapons, for negotiating with cartels, for taking out Sal Perri and Cian Murphy. They planned to send the organized crime world into pure chaos.
She lost track of time as she listened to them talk, focusing on her breathing, on the certainty that Lucian would come and kill this asshole. She entertained herself with fantasies of Lucian ripping his balls off and feeding them to him. She’d like to see that.
Eventually, the SUV came to a stop, and the driver rolled down his window and said something to a man outside. There was a metallic clanking sound—a gate opening, maybe?—and then the vehicle lurched forward again, much slower than before.
“Here, sit up,” said Massimo, yanking on her hair again. Her legs had gone numb from kneeling on the floor for the past hour—or longer—and she struggled to push to her feet. “Look at your new home.”
A sprawling mansion rose up before them, surrounded by a dense forest of trees. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, but she had no idea where they were. Connecticut? New Jersey? Pennsylvania? He’d said out of state, but not where.
Not only that, but the mansion appeared to be in the middle of nowhere. There were no other properties visible, only trees. The heavy gate clanked shut behind them as the SUV wound its way up the long driveway. Running would be impossible, even if she did manage to get away. She had no idea where she was, and she’d probably end up getting lost in the woods and dying of dehydration. The SUV stopped by the double doors at the front of the mansion, and the two Russian men got out first.
“Take her inside and show her to her room,” ordered Massimo. He released her hair and gave her a shove in the direction of the Russians. Twin iron grips banded around her upper arms as they dragged her inside, and a fresh wave of panic threatened to pull her under. What if the signal in the earrings stopped working? What if Lucian came and Massimo killed him, just like he planned? What if he got bored with her and sold her off to some pervert? Her breathing became shallow, making her lightheaded.
If she could get away from these two men, maybe she could find somewhere to hide in the house, find a weapon to protect herself, find a phone to call 911. But everywhere she looked, there were armed men. Dozens of them. She wouldn’t make it ten feet if she tried to get away.
They marched her up a sweeping, curved staircase, down a hallway and into a bedroom, shoving her inside and slamming the door. She heard the unmistakable click of a lock from the outside, and she had no doubt that one of those armed men was standing right outside.
She turned, taking stock of her surroundings. The room was large, with big windows on two of the walls, a queen-sized bed, and a small sitting area with a sofa and an arm chair arranged around a coffee table. A chest of drawers sat against the wall opposite the bed, and she moved to it, opening the drawers, looking for a weapon, a phone, something, anything. But all she found inside was skimpy lingerie. She shuddered, checking the rest of the drawers, but they were empty. So was the cabinet beneath the flatscreen TV.
She sank down on the bed, letting the tears come. Lucian was going to walk into a trap, and it was all her fault.
