I shot another two of them as I ranged closer to the throng. Then I snaked forward between them and lashed out for the girl. Grabbing her wrist, I yanked her away from the hooligans and pushed her behind my back.
A squeal left her lips when I sandwiched her safely against the wall, but I didn’t have time to worry about being too rough with her.
Another gangbanger came at me with his knife drawn.
Fuck him and his pathetic blade.
Pulling out the bolas, I swung the weapon in a couple of circles before releasing it. A whistling blur, the balls propelled the rope across the air and then the bolas lashed around the fucker’s neck.
The boleadoras wrapped tightly around his throat and immediately started strangling him.
While one of his associates—I used the term loosely—went to his rescue, I kept the woman behind my back and my gun raised unerringly. “Unless you all want to die tonight, I suggest you get the fuck away from me while you can.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” The cunt who seemed to think the woman was his rightful prize wore an expression of complete insolence.
“Probably someone you’ll wish you never met.”
Surrounded by his posse, he made another move toward me. And that was the last step he ever took.
I saw the whites of his eyes just before my next shot made lethal impact.
The woman whimpered, her fingers curling into the back of my jacket.
“Anyone else?” I asked coolly.
The rest of the gang members froze for one singular second then another stupid motherfucker aimed his flashy pistol at me.
I dispatched that loathsome fucker to hell and finally the rest went scurrying off like rats on a sinking ship.
Stepping away from the girl as footsteps pounded pavement away from us, I kicked at the fallen bodies to make sure no life was left. Satisfied my kills were clean, I retrieved the bolas before returning to the woman.
I holstered my gun, peering at her.
She huddled against the wall, shaking with her arms wrapped around her middle. Even with the cut on her face and the blood smeared across her skin, she was a gorgeous vision.
A troublesome vision.
I should never have even stopped for her. Maybe it was the old woman who’d bummed a smoke from me that had gotten under my skin.
Savior, I was not.
When I reached toward this female, she flinched. But I merely pressed a knuckle beneath her chin to raise her head.
Light golden-brown eyes met mine, her delicate red lips forming a cupid’s bow.
I tilted her face and inspected the jagged cut that ran from her forehead to her temple. Nasty, but not too deep. She’d definitely have a throbbing headache soon if she didn’t already.
I scanned her body merely to see if she were injured anywhere else yet, even through my detached inspection, there was no denying her feminine appeal extended to her figure.
While petite, she possessed the kind of rich curves I’d expect on a bigger woman.
I bit my lips together and ignored the heat flooding down to my groin.
Her clothing remained mostly intact, so it was unlikely she’d been raped.
There was a long tear over the knee of her pants, and blood seeped through the ripped material.
Her expensive outfit and the designer handbag she clutched at her midsection suggested she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
“What are you doing wandering the streets alone this late at night?” I asked.
She tentatively touched the cut on her temple, and something odd flashed in her eyes. “They overtook me on my way to The Cat and the Sickle.”
The club was already closed, so she was too late for that. But her answer spiked my interest—a strange woman venturing out this way at this time of night didn’t quite gel.
“And why is that?” I offered her my pocket square, and she pressed it against the blood drying on her face.
“I have something to deliver to the owner, Kirill Krasnov.”
Sudden alarm percolated through me. “What would that be?”
“That stronzo killed my brother,” she bit out as fierceness replaced the fear in her eyes.
Dropping my pocket square to the ground, she reached into her purse. From the depths, she pulled out a gold-plated Chiappa Rhino pistol.
The serious piece of hardware glimmered between us, and I looked from the gun to her. “What’s your name?”
She tossed her hair over one shoulder, wincing at the movement. “Lucia. Lucia Leone.”
Fuck me.
As the sound of police sirens wailed closer and closer, I realized exactly who the woman was.
Sister to Bastiano Leone. The Cosa Nostra greaseball who’d sought to buy Joanna from her vile father.
Bastiano, the man Kirill had brutally murdered.
The alley seemed to close around us in black gloom, and I moved with snake-like precision, swiftly disarming Lucia.
Her eyes flipped wide, confusion skittering all across her face. “What are you—”
I cupped a hand over her mouth, silencing her. I snagged her handbag, stuck it under my armpit, and shoved her firearm into the back of my pants.
Dropping my mouth near her ear, I spoke in a low dark tone. “You may not have found Kirill tonight, but you definitely found his brother.”
She started struggling, which both annoyed and amused me.
Hadn’t I just saved her life out of the kindness of my heart?
Ha.
Wrenching her right up against my body, I stilled her. “I am Arkady Krasnov.”
The cop cars were getting closer now.
Lucia chomped down hard on my palm, and I yanked my hand back. Rage burned inside of me, and I could’ve struck her. But I already felt the weight of Joanna’s and even Sasha’s eyes condemning me for such behavior.
Females.
I opted for the second-best solution to silence the woman. Picking up the pocket square, I folded it precisely to make a gag.
“You shouldn’t have dropped this on the ground.” Still relatively clean, I swiftly stuffed the cloth into her mouth and bound it behind her head, making sure long tresses covered the fabric.
She grunted, shoving against me to no avail.
I was taking her. No one was going to help her now. I didn’t care she’d just been attacked. Fuck that.
She had something to answer for especially if the Leones were out for vengeance against my family.
I hauled her effortlessly into my arms, crushing her close to my body and cradling her gagged mouth against my throat.
I escaped from the alleyway as cops rounded the street corner coming from the opposite direction I took.
With my house only another couple blocks down the road, I knew I could make a clean getaway with my little Italian prisoner.
This late at night, I only came across a few other passersby.
I greeted them with nods, all affable smiles. “She had a bit too much to drink tonight.”
Patting her ass, I smirked when she gave a garbled scream against my shirtfront.
Someone sure as hell was going to pay for Lucia’s aborted plan to hurt the Bratva. In money or in lives. Preferably, both.
2
Lucia
FULL SHOCK AND PANIC lit through my entire being, and suddenly this Russian savage incapacitated me.
Stuffing a gag in my mouth, he confiscated my gun and dragged me up into his cage-like arms before I even knew what was happening.