Married to the Mafia Boss

Katya

Five men in police uniforms had come with guns, and I’d shot one in the skull with my handgun before one of them had taken Paulina hostage.

I knew better than to continue to shoot because they could have sprayed the apartment with bullets, and I would have had two dead friends. Still, the moment three of them led me out, I rushed at them, managing to stab one and shoot the other two before more of them, not in uniform, had rushed out of a corner at me.

The bodies of the men I’d brought with me were crumbled on the ground with blood leaking from their heads and onto the carpet of the hallway.

Fucking cowards.

They came in droves, and I shot at them. Ten dead but they didn’t let up. How many had come to take one woman?

Maxim was apparently very good at estimating his enemies because the goons kept coming. But I wasn’t a loser, and I refused to be taken without putting up a fight.

It was a concussion gas grenade that took me out.

***

I opened my eyes, and I couldn’t recognize where I was. All the muscles in my body were killing me, but I could attend to that later. First, I looked around me to evaluate my surroundings.

I was in a bedroom, big with simple but excessively lavish furniture, and on a bed.

I went for the door I assumed led out of the bedroom, and tried to open it, but it was locked. Then, I went for the windows. The blinds were drawn, but I pushed them aside and tried. The windows were sealed shut.

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I wasn’t in some apartment building though. Outside, through the window glass, was the compound of a private residence: manicured garden, trimmed hedges, patrol men were everywhere armed with big guns.

Then I started to search the room for anything. Anything I could use as a weapon, anything I could use to communicate, anything I could get intel out of that I could use when I got out of here.

But I found nothing. I was trying to look under the bed when the door lock turned, and somebody entered the room.

“I see you’re awake.” An older woman entered, pulling a service cart covered with a drape in before locking the door again.

I stood up slowly and looked her over. Possibly in her sixties, either German or Dutch because she had a very faint accent, and very much a bitch because who else would look at a captured, injured woman with such condescending eyes. Especially because of the black uniform that looked like something that belonged to a housemaid in the 20s and the tight mignon her grey hair had been forced into.

“Sit there so I can tend the wounds. Otherwise, they’ll scar,” she said, pushing the cart to a desk with a chair but it. When she pulled the cover, there were first aid tools, pomades, and a covered dish that might have been food.

Even though I was weary, I still took the seat. The injuries I’d gotten from resisting were many, and first aid was very needed, especially since I was going to try to escape.

Soon enough.

“Where is this?” I asked as she took my arm and started treating me.

“Where do you think? Are you not that newly married Sorvino woman?”

“I know this is Maxim territory, but where in New York are we?”

She glanced at me with her disinterested brown eyes, before focusing on my arm again.

“If I answered questions like that, then I would have lost this job ages ago.”

I looked at her closely. “And what job would that be?”

“Tending to the girls he brings back.” She reached for spirits on the cart. “They’re always a pretty lot like you, but a lot less sensible. Too much crying and begging, as if I was somebody that could let them go. At least you have the sense to understand your situation.”

“So, Maxim brings some of the girls he traffics here? For what?”

She was done with my left arm and gestured for the right. There were fewer injuries on it compared to the left.

“Different reasons, but not one of them has gotten out before, and he’s never brought them into his bedroom, not for their first day at least. Maybe it’s a special treatment because of who you are.”

“Nobody’s gotten out before.”

“No. trying to escape will only make him angry at you, and you don’t want that.”

Don’t I? I thought to myself. Maxim could go fuck himself with his worthless anger, I was going to get out of here and fuck him up terribly for kidnapping me, especially if so much as one hair was hurt on Paulina’s or Sam’s head. The woman finished the treatment, put the food on the table, and started packing up.

“A plastic spoon, really?” I asked, lifting the spoon as if it was a dirty rag. She didn’t even answer, just tucked the metal cover under the cart and packed up the medicine.

I attacked her before she could start pushing the cart towards the door. Nothing too severe, she was an old woman after all.

Just a chokehold while twisting one of her arms behind her back, then I pulled her toward the closet where there were a few clothes, but I was sure Maxim wouldn’t have missed them.

After tying her hands behind her back with a shirt, I searched her for the keys she’d used to lock the door, then I stuffed her mouth with a different shirt and went for the door.

As an afterthought, I went back to take the metal cover she’d used to cover my food, and the ceramic plate, tossing the scrappy food on the ground. I needed as many weapons as I could get.

The woman wasn’t struggling, she hadn’t put up much of a fight when I’d started to tie her up, but it might just have been because of her age. I stood behind the door and pressed my ear to it.

There were people in the corridor outside, but there was no other escape route, and I needed to get out of here before Maxim came back from wherever he was.

When I unlocked the door, one of the two men standing on either side of the door frame peeked back. “Done already, baba? He asked before I smashed the ceramic in his face and lurched for the other guy with the metal cover.

Quickly, after knocking him out, I reached for his belt because there were already sounds of people shouting and running, attracted by the noise I’d made.

No guns.

Neither of the men had guns I could use. I laughed when the goons came at me after turning into the corridor, with bats raised and guns raised.

I didn’t last long in the fight before I was knocked out with a bat to the head.