Chapter Two
Jane hated noodles.
She stared into her single saucepan of packet noodles. Until she got a better paying job than waitressing at a dive, she was living on noodles.
Food was offered as part of the deal, but she didn’t like Arnold, the chef, who looked like he stepped out of the sewer, cooking anything for her.
Call her picky, but she didn’t like the idea of losing weight via food poisoning, and that man looked like he gave it on a regular basis.
She was not a bad judge of character. All her life, she had seen the mixture of good, bad, and just plain evil, all dressed up, and looking good on paper.
After a few more seconds, the noodles were cooked, so she tore open the final seasoning packet, added it to the pan, and gave it a final stir. Once that was done, she poured it into her bowl, then quickly washed her saucepan.
She was already dressed in her pajamas that had seen better days.
Most of her stuff had seen better days. Tonight, she intended to eat her noodles, watch some television, hopefully some drama or even a horror movie.
She hated horror movies, but she would rather watch them from behind a pillow than a sappy romance. Romance was dead.
She had seen the other side of it, and she was one hundred percent cynical.
She picked up a fork and made her way into the sitting room, getting as comfortable as she could on the lumpy sofa.
Turning on her television, she kept it low because she didn’t want any banging on the walls, which were so thin.
Twirling her fork into her bowl of noodles, she shoved some in her mouth after blowing across them, so they didn’t burn.
She was in the process of taking more, when there was a knock on her door.
Jane frowned. No one ever knocked on her door.
The bell was broken, or it had never been in order, she wasn’t quite sure.
Putting her bowl of noodles on the table, everything in her gut was telling her something was off. She lived in a building with neighbors that didn’t go around announcing they were new.
She felt a little sick to her stomach as she made her way toward the front door. Any other time, she would be looking for a way to escape, but in this apartment, the only way to do that was through the front door.
The ladders near her window were rusted, and when she attempted a practice escape, they had snapped. She told the landlord months ago, and he was still attempting to repair them, or so he claimed. The man never did anything unless there was money in it for him, not that she was surprised.
As she made her way to the door, she couldn’t help but hesitate. No one ever called on her, not even the landlord. She was expected to have her rent money at the approved time, and she was to go down to his room and hand him the money. She never got packages and rarely got hand-delivered mail.
She was about to take a step back when the door was kicked open. Jane was too close, and she fell to the floor, crying out as the pain hit her. Falling to the ground, she knew this was not good. She didn’t scream and tried not to panic.
Jane started to crawl away, and just as she moved a few inches, someone grabbed her by the hair and pulled her to her feet.
“Fuck me, you are one ugly bitch.”
She didn’t recognize the man, but she had a feeling this was happening because she saved that other man.
“Fuck you,” she said.
There was no way she was ever going to beg for her life.
He threw her against the wall, and they were thin, so she felt it dent beneath her body. Jane watched as he came for her again, and she jammed her fist into his dick, which bided her some time.
Only, there was not one attacker, but two.
She cried out as once again, he caught her hair and she decided she was going to get her fucking hair cut.
This is why she never usually allowed her hair to grow out.
The pain chased down her spine, and the man caught her, spun her around, and slapped her.
He pulled back his hand and slapped her again.
The pain was getting more intense, and she turned her head and sunk her teeth into his wrist, not giving up until she tasted blood. She hoped he didn’t have any diseases.
He shoved her away, and she fell onto her small coffee table, spilling the warm noodles onto herself. She kept trying to get away, but he grabbed her ankle, spun her over, and slammed his foot against her stomach. Jane coughed, attempted to get away again, but he slammed his foot on her.
“Enough. Kill the bitch. Vincent wants her dead.”
She always knew she would die, she just didn’t think it would be now. Her life had been pretty shitty up until now, and it was about to get a whole lot worse. Staring down the barrel of the gun, she knew her minutes were numbered.
“This is for Frank Morello,” he said.
There was no juicy comeback. She had nothing to say. This was death.
She lived her life as well as she could.
She thought about the pact she made when she was just a teenager with the other foster kids.
The foster dad had been killed, and none of them would say a word.
No one could pin any crime on them, there was no chance of it.
It was a secret she would take to her grave.
She watched his fingers tighten, and then the gunshot rang out, followed by a second one.
Jane frowned. She was still alive, still feeling the pain of being beaten.
She quickly moved out of the way, as the man who had been over her pointing a gun suddenly fell forward, and if she hadn’t moved fast, he would have been on top of her.
That was real fear. She couldn’t believe that nearly happened.
She tried not to freak out, but then the man she had helped over a week ago was there.
“Fuck, she’s bleeding,” he said. “Jane, I’m here. You’re not alone.”
This did not make her feel any better. Was she in this predicament because of him? Of course she was. If she hadn’t ran down that guy, this wouldn’t have happened. Someone was after her. The name Vincent Morello did not sound familiar, but clearly, it was a bad guy.
Jane groaned and tried to get to her feet, but everything was screaming at her. It had been a long time since she had taken a beating like this. She coughed again, which only reminded her of the pain in her abdomen.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said.
Before she could say or do anything, the guy that had gotten her into this mess suddenly picked her up. It was the first time in her life she had been held in any kind of way, and she didn’t know if she liked it or not.
The pain intensified and before she could demand that he let her go, everything went black.
****
Alexey should have known Vincent would send two goons after her. He never should have left her apartment.
The doctor said she had a lot of bruising, but she had gotten lucky. There was nothing broken.
Alexey looked at her in the bed where he had placed her in his penthouse apartment. He owned the whole building and there was no way anyone was getting to her. Vincent would have to send an army to get to her.
He’d changed her out of the pajamas she’d been wearing. This woman had risked her life to save him. Her face was covered in bruises. One side of her lips was swollen from the cut lip, which looked fucking sore. Bruises already mottled her face, and she appeared to have a black eye.
He’d been there when his doctor examined her. There were bruises on her back, and a boot print, from having it slammed on her stomach. He had also noticed the old scars she carried.
Her file only indicated so much, but the fact she didn’t even scream during the attack said volumes.
Along with the unanswered questions he had about that one foster dad, who ended up dead, there was a lot to Jane Adams. On the surface, she was a law-abiding citizen, yet she had no qualms running people down and helping him.
She let out a groan. “It wasn’t a dream.”
“I don’t think I ever want to know what kind of dreams you have,” he said.
She started to laugh. “You’re funny. You’re a funny guy.” She sighed. “Everything hurts.”
“It’s going to hurt like hell.”
She glared at him.
“Do I want to know what happened?” she asked.
“That night you helped me, you gunned down Frank Morello.”
“I have no idea who that is.”
“He’s Vincent Morello’s only son and heir to the Morello mafia.”
She started to laugh and then groaned. “That is my luck. Fuck.” She looked down at her stomach. “Ouch.”
He looked at her.
“Why did you save me?” he asked.
“You ... were alone. I watched them corner you, your vehicle was somehow pushed onto its roof. I don’t even know how that happened, and then they killed your men.
” She shrugged. “It just didn’t feel right.
I’ve always been a sucker for the rules and people playing fair. It pisses me off when they don’t.”
“That’s why you ran him down?”
“It wasn’t intentional. So, I’ve pissed off a mafia boss. That’s good to know. Well, seeing as I’m now fucked, I might as well know who you are.” She started to lift herself up in the bed, and he saw the pinch of her mouth as she didn’t complain.
“Alexey Baranov,” he said, holding his hand out.
“Jane Adams, but I have a feeling you already knew that, didn’t you?”
He smirked.
“Baranov,” she said. “If I’m dealing with mafia, that makes you Bratva, right?”
He nodded.
“My luck has truly run out,” she said. “Not that I had any to begin with. So, what is the plan, you intend to hand me over to Vincent? Make some kind of deal?”
“You think I would just hand you over?”
“It’s business, right? People die, mistakes are made. You want him to stop hitting at your men. You stop hitting at his.”
“His only son died.”
“Yeah, and I bet he’s got plenty more he can push into that line.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure he’s got a ton of kids that can stake a claim.” She wrinkled her nose.
“I’m not handing you over.”
“You’re not?” Jane asked.
“No, you helped save me, and that is what I’m going to do for you.”
“Save me?”
He nodded.
“But you don’t even know me.”
“And you think I need to know you in order to help you?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you need to do, but right now, you’re not making a lot of sense.” She rubbed at her temples. “I’m no one.”
“That’s true, but you’re also the same woman who helped me out, and I’m not going to forget it.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Jane said.
Alexey got to his feet. “You know, a lot of women would be grateful, and bowing down at my feet, begging me to help them.”
“I’m not most women.”
“I’ve come to realize that. You’ve got a bad attitude, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. I just understand the way the world works, and I know it’s fucking shit,” she said. “It doesn’t make life easy for girls like me.”
He looked at her and could see she believed that.
“Life hasn’t been good to you, has it?”
“I was left at a church when I was just a few days old. At least, that was what the nuns assumed. All my life, I’ve been told I’m not good enough.” She pointed at her face. “This is never going to turn heads or get any kind of attention. Trust me, I’m not an idiot.”
Alexey smiled. “So, don’t you think you should just thank me for helping you? After all, that is what normal people would do.” He winked at her. “I’m going to get you some food.”
Leaving the room, he made his way toward the kitchen, looked through the fridge and the cupboards. He had no idea what to make her.
Jane had helped him when no one else would.
His reality was people looking the other way, and that was okay.
Anyone who got involved with his shit, he killed.
Anyone that tried to stop him from completing the shit he needed to, he took them out, no questions asked.
She had defied the odds. He was not going to let that bastard get to her.
Jane Adams was now under his protection.
Grabbing a can of soup, he didn’t know if she would be able to stomach anything more. Her lips were swollen, and he saw it was hard for her to talk. Chewing would feel impossible.
Warming up the soup, he grabbed a couple of slices of bread and thickly buttered them.
Once everything was hot, he poured it into a bowl and made his way into the bedroom.
Only, his patient was not in bed, she was standing by the window.
Her arms were crossed over her abdomen, and she looked to be in a lot of pain.
“Looking for a way to escape?” he asked.
“You don’t exactly make it easy, do you?” She turned to him.
She wore a pair of his sweatpants and oversized shirt. They swamped her. He’d changed her while she had been passed out.
Jane was all curves, in all the right places. He wanted to know her story.
“I’ve made you soup, from a can,” he said. “It’s good. Come on, relax.”
She sighed but moved back toward the bed, and he placed the tray on her thighs.
“It’s not too heavy?” he asked.
“It’s fine.”
“Good. Eat. You’re going to need your strength.”
She looked at him for a second, then picked up her spoon and started to eat. He watched her, keeping a close eye, because he didn’t want anything bad to happen to her.