Mafia Boss’s Arranged Bride by Bella King
Chapter 24
Nikolai
It’s been four days since the massacre and two since I bent Annika over in the shower and claimed her as mine. It wasn’t the only time. I’ve had her on several occasions since then, usually at night with my hand over her mouth so nobody can hear her sweet moans of pleasure aside from me.
I can’t say no to a woman like that. My addiction to her is stronger than my craving for cigarettes, and that’s saying a lot. The harsh heat of smoke in my lungs has been the only thing keeping me from leaving everything behind and digging myself an early grave at times. Annika beats that, giving me willpower that I haven’t known since I was younger and ignorant to how difficult life would get.
This little isolated safehouse is a paradise in some regards and a hell in others, but I can’t stay here forever, even if it was complete nirvana. My job isn’t done until I figure out what the hell happened at that wedding and why.
I’ve had absolutely no contact with anybody who might have any information about who survived. It’s strange, but the lack of communication has somehow helped suspend me in the belief that there is hope for Michail’s survival.
Despite this feeling, I know that the reality is likely not so lucky. Either Michail is dead, or he’s involved. The massacre was too quick and deadly for it not to have slain him otherwise.
When I choose to step out of the safehouse to figure this shit out, I emerge with nothing. I know that my father has a cop working for him in the NYPD. He pays him off to give him tips and circulates information about other organizations to keep the cops off his back.
In a way, I find it a little bit impressive and very uncanny how my father is able to keep such close friends alongside those who wish to destroy him. His boldness knows no limits, but that’s where he and I overlap, and that’s why I’m such a severe danger to his master plans.
I’m just as bold, and now I have a strong enough reason to defy him. I also have information that he doesn’t know I have. Around him, I often have a closed mouth and open ears, and my father enjoys talking; he’ll brag all night long if there’s whiskey in his glass.
I know that his cop’s name is Corey Gillespie. I’ve never met him before, but I’ve seen him around, and I know what he looks like. He’s as much of a stereotype as you can imagine, overweight with a bad buzzcut and a thirst for vengeance against anyone who picked on him in high school.
He’s an easy target for persuasion, given his lack of friends and room-temperature IQ. The hardest part will be finding him and getting him alone.
Right now, the only information I have about Michail, or anybody, can be found through Corey. I have to be careful, however, because Corey has as much information about me as he does anyone else, and petty high school crimes might tip him off that I’m not on his side. Not to mention, I don’t have any idea how much my father pays him. He could be loyal to a fault and quick on the trigger.
But I don’t have much of a choice. The risk is worth knowing what the hell is going on, and I’m going to have to get that information if I’m to ever live a normal life again.
Annika has been acclimating fairly well for such a short period of time, but recently she’s had a new surge of anxiety and worry that has taken the form of argumentativeness.
I understand it, but there’s only so much I can handle before I argue back with her, and my words can cut deeper than she could possibly imagine. I’m a cruel man when it comes down to it, and I don’t want to show that side of me to Annika. She’s precious, and I must protect her fragile heart.
I need to find Corey Gillespie and get information if I have any chance of finding out about Michail, but I don’t want to leave Annika here with people she doesn’t like and who don’t trust her. Bringing her to the outside is risky, but leaving her here with a bunch of criminals could end just as poorly.
Weighing the risks and benefits of bringing her out into the real world with me is an impossible task. I’ve had hardly a moment of rest myself with my adrenal system in overdrive due to the very real possibility of being caught first.
I’m considering my very limited options when James approaches me. “Hey, your girl is really starting to piss me off. She insulted my cooking, and –“
“James, your cooking makes me want to kill myself,” I say, cutting him off. “And don’t talk shit about Annika. I’ll screw your head off and go bowling with it.”
James leans back, his eyebrows jumping up in surprise. “Wow… I don’t know how to respond to that.”
“Then don’t,” I grumble. “We’ll be out of here soon, and you can go back to building play forts out of boxes with your friends.”
“We’re not making forts, Nikolai. You know just as well as I do how much money this place pulls in. We don’t even have to pay rent here, and the amount of stolen goods that run through here is lining all of our pockets with more cash than we can even think to spend.”
“Then buy better beds,” I reply dryly. “My fucking back is killing me.”
James shakes his head dismissively. “Alright, man, but I’m warning you that she’s a liability. If she pisses too many people off, she’s going to get herself in serious trouble. You know how the guys are.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked, anger rising in my chest with unusual quickness. I can feel the heat in my throat, and the urge to throw hands with someone who I should be friends with is nearly overpowering.
James steps back, crossing his arms. “It’s not me, man. It’s the others. All I’m saying is that she’s probably better off out there than in here.” He nods toward a foggy window that only lets enough light in to tell us when it’s day or night.
“I’ll talk to her,” I say, only now realizing that both of my fists are clenched. I loosen them, forcing my fingers to dangle down by my sides like I’m only pretending to be human. “In the meantime, get me some guns and extra ammunition. I know you have them, so I’m not asking twice.”
“Sure,” James says cheerfully. His mood has switched quickly now that he realized that I’m leaving.
I decide to go check on Annika. When I find her, she’s scrawling something on an old paper folder that must have been left behind when the building was abandoned. Her plate of food has been pushed away, untouched.
“Hey, what are you writing?” I pry, trying to avoid a tone of voice that would indicate that I have plans for today.
“I’m writing a will,” she says without looking up at me, hastily scratching out a series of three or four words.
I recoil. “For what, exactly?”
She slams down her pen and looks up at me, her expression pointed and annoyed at my prying words. “What the fuck do you think it’s for? We could be shot dead any day now. You’re the one who keeps telling me that.”
“If we’re found, probably yes,” I reply honestly.
“Then leave me alone, and let me write my damn will,” she says, shaking her head as though it were ridiculous for me to even come over and ask her about it. She’s going crazy in here, just like me.
