8. She called me what?
EIGHT
SHE CALLED ME WHAT?
SHARK
During the time I spent hunting Fis and his crew across the Euxine Sea, I thought that Alessio worked from his office in Japan. But here he is, standing in the aisle of the plane he sent for us.
My friend and boss, Alessio Angelini, is a six-foot-five, broad-shouldered, blue-eyed savage who hides his nature under a designer suit so people don’t piss themselves when he walks into the room. Some still do, but that’s their problem. It’s not his job to shrink so others can be made comfortable.
Seeing as how Alessio never fetches anyone, the fact he’s coming to fetch me speaks volumes of his interest, no doubt in my wife. But instead of prowling forward as I expect him to, his gaze trails down my body and stops between my legs. That’s new.
I follow his gaze to the barrel of the gun peeking between my legs. I suppress the urge to close my legs like a girl that needs to use the bathroom. “It’s not loaded,” I say.
“Hell yes, it is,” the birthday girl says. “Don’t come any closer.”
Alessio raises an eyebrow.
“While she slept, I took out the ammo,” I explain.
“Now, why would you go and do something like that?” she asks.
“I never know when I’ll piss you off, so it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“That’s good thinking, Shark Daddy. Not very useful now, but good thinking.”
“Thank you. Put the gun in the back of my waistband. I know this guy.” I can feel her hesitate to part with the gun, but I need her to hand over the weapon. “Do it,” I say firmly. As soon as she draws back the barrel and places it at my back, I grab the sheet with her money and haul it over my shoulder, then walk down the aisle.
“This is my friend Alessio Angelini. He’s the owner of this jet.” I stop in front of Alessio when he won’t move aside.
“What are you carrying?” he asks as he looks me up and down, no doubt assessing me for injuries.
“Target’s fifteen million. Give or take.”
A grunt, then a slight, quick lift of his chin as his gaze lands behind me. “That’s your wife, I presume?”
“Shhh.” I whisper in my native tongue, “Little more discreet about the wife thing, if you don’t mind.”
Alessio’s eyes narrow. “And why’s that, Casanova?”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll never hear the end of this. “She doesn’t know she’s my wife yet.”
We end our non-English exchange when I turn toward the girl, who’s apparently staying in the back. “Come on, birthday girl. I’m wiped and hungry.” To Alessio, I say, “Feed us, would you?” I keep things light and nonchalant for fear that once I tell the birthday girl what’s happening to her, she’ll try to run, in which case I’d have no choice but to hunt her. She’s a witness, and now she can identify Alessio too, which is precisely why he’s here. There’s no turning back.
Alessio looks from me to her, and since she’s behind me, I can’t see what she’s doing. Yet the moment the birthday girl gets up from her seat, I know. I know because I see the shock on my friend’s face as he takes in her whole body. Her whole, very pregnant body.
Alessio’s blue eyes widen like saucers. It’s comical how fast he whips his head toward me, his lips parting slightly, his gasp muted, but I hear it all the same. Alessio rarely lets his mask slip to show his emotions, but I don’t think he can contain himself.
I shrug. “It happens.”
“Not to you,” he states. I cannot father children.
“It’s mine,” the birthday girl says, drawing out the word mine .
Alessio picks up on it immediately. “You’re an American.”
“Tennessee. Born and raised. Isn’t that right, Shark Daddy?”
“Daddy?” Alessio chokes out. I think my best friend might suffocate on his own rage. He’s barely containing himself, internally imploding, I’m sure.
She claps me on the shoulder. “It’s a joke that your hitman and I got going. I call him Shark Daddy since I don’t know his name.”
She called me a hitman. Alessio might strangle me right here and now.
Alessio’s left speechless or, rather, quiet while he plots the fastest way to end me before I can end him. He’s also likely putting together the elements of my story and what might’ve transpired during my mission. Finally, he inhales deeply, then exhales slowly and says, “Do you want to introduce us, Mr. Hitman?”
I swallow the proverbial hand grenade Alessio is shoving down my throat. “My name is Shark. Shark is good. I like it for my hitman vigilante name. This is my friend?—”
Alessio cuts in. “Your best friend.”
“Best friend,” I confirm to him, then lean in and whisper in her ear, “He’s very possessive of me. Don’t be surprised if he’s jealous of you.”
The birthday girl laughs at that.
Alessio doesn’t find me amusing.
I open my mouth to continue when he says, “Wait. You can give me a nickname. If he’s a Shark, what’s that make me?”
“Uh-oh,” I say. “What’s bigger than a shark?”
“Whale,” Alessio deadpans.
I clear my throat. “You can name him.”
“Hmmm.” The birthday girl taps her bottom lip. “Is this really your plane?”
Alessio nods. “It really is.”
“His airport too,” I say helpfully.
She snaps her head my way. “Seriously?”
I nod.
“It’s a fine ride, and I’m sure the airport will be just as fine,” she says. “I’m Troy. Troy Montgomery, and I’ll call you Capital.”
Troy. I spin her name in my head. For some reason, she looks like a Troy if there ever was a way to look like your given name. The name suits her, even though it’s a name I would expect a Greek girl to have. Maybe her ancestors emigrated from Greece, but then again, her last name suggests otherwise. It’s difficult to tell.
In the Slavic lands, it’s easy to tell one’s region of birth, one’s religion, political association, and everything in between just by knowing their name. My name, Miroslav, is a name commonly given to boys living in the former Yugoslav republic.
Once the war broke out, my parents were forced out of their home. During the exodus, they died, leaving me to fend for myself on the streets of foreign European cities that swallow teens and young, poor men. I was trafficked through Europe, and the people who trafficked me taught me that my name was a part of my curse.
When I met Alessio, I had no association, no country to call my own, and nobody looking after me. I had only my name. At the time, I could’ve made up another name, one that would hurt less as I carried it into the unknown, but I kept it. Out of spite. Those who abused me couldn’t beat the spirit out of me.
In fact, growing up under those circumstances made me stronger. Alessio offered me a chance at life and family. In all honesty, we are like brothers.
“Capital,” he repeats, and his lips stretch into a smile, showing his nice white teeth and a pair of dimples I haven’t seen in years, it seems. His eyes narrow at the corners too. “I like it.”
I don’t. I don’t like it at all. Alessio is handsome. Even I know that, and I’m not into guys. I turn to see the pregnant girl blushing.
Why is the asshole smiling wider now?
I give him my best killer glare, but that only makes him chuckle. “You can stop now,” I say.
Alessio fixes his cuff link. “One more question for you, Troy, before I decide where you’ll be staying. Have you seen an OB yet?”
Troy shakes her head. “Not yet. But I’m hoping you’ll help me get home so I can see one.”
Shit. The proverbial bomb in my throat just exploded. I’m shattered into a million pieces. Alessio and I lock eyes. We both know she’s not going home, but I’m pleading with my gaze that he go easy on her, show her mercy. I’m hoping he deduced that I found her on the yacht among a group of dangerous men.
“And your home is in Tennessee?” he asks.
“Yes, sir.”
“Does anyone know you’re here?”
“You know.”
Alessio smiles at me, and it’s not the same way he smiled at Troy. No, this smile reminds me of a wolf who curls his upper lip before he pounces and bites into the opponent’s flesh.
Birthday girl gave him the information he’s been looking for. Now Alessio knows she’s a kidnapped victim hoping to return home. Since we’re keeping her here, we’re now her captors—kidnappers, if you want to be brutal about it.
Taking women breaks our rules. We don’t traffic people. We don’t bring random people into our little group. Hence why I must marry her before Alessio decides she’s my next target and I have to pick between him and her.
The reasons why I must marry her keeps growing. I better start a list.
She’s a witness
She’s a kidnapped person I discovered
I introduced her to Alessio
I want to add that she’s right when she said she sucks great dick and that it definitely makes me want to marry her, but I keep that reason off my list.
That’s if she agrees to marry me. From the way she talked about her home, I doubt she’ll be thrilled when she finds out she’s not allowed to return.
“Shall we?” I ask. I want to get off the plane and maybe even crawl out of my skin. I’m disgusted with myself for taking her, and yet I couldn’t have left her, and I couldn’t have ended her.
The rock has met the hard place.