Beautiful Russian Monster (A Vancouver Mafia Romance Book 2)

“Oh, dear girl.” My grandmother squeezed me in a hard hug. “Tell me some good news.”

I rubbed her back with slow and steady strokes. I had no good news, so I remained silent.

“Oh.” Her voice was muffled against me. “Oh, no.”

Her husband, my grandfather, had gone missing three days ago. He had last been seen in Manila at a board meeting for the Asian offices of his shipping company. According to everyone, he left after the meeting in his town car. And it was like he had vanished.

I had just landed in Paris for work when I received my grandmother’s panicked messages. Without taking a step out of the airport, I boarded a flight back home.

My grandmother was beside herself. Despite being jet-lagged and exhausted, I spent the first night sitting up with her. And the next two days were a blur of dealing with all the authorities who were currently searching for him. The CFO of his company and I decided to hire an additional private team to search for my grandfather, and we worked together to deal with the day-to-day business of my grandfather’s shipping empire.

“Tell me everything,” my grandmother pleaded.

She didn’t want to know everything. She only wanted to hear that this would work out.

I pulled back and looked into her brown eyes. “Have you eaten today?”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“I’m going to change, and then we’re both going to have some soup, okay? And I’ll tell you everything.”

She shook her head. “I can’t eat.”

“Come on,” I pushed. “Pappa will hold me personally responsible if you’ve lost your curves when he returns.”

Her face brightened. “You think so?”

“I think he would hate it that you worried yourself sick when this is probably all a crazy misunderstanding.”

She stared at me with so much hope it almost crushed me. “You’re right.”

I considered that I should be trying to prepare her for the worst-case scenario, but there wasn’t a single part of my heart that could do that to her. They had found the driver, beaten unconscious in the trunk of the car, and they’d found my grandfather’s watch, wallet, phone and briefcase in the back seat. It was as if whoever took him was telling us that they didn’t want what he had—they wanted him. The driver was still unconscious and unable to give us any clue as to what had happened.

“So you’ll come downstairs for some soup?”

“Do you mind if I eat it in my room?” She gave me a pleading look.

I didn’t mind. I was so dead-tired I was almost falling down. “I’ll go ask Joanne to bring you up a tray.”

She clutched my hand. “Do you think Pappa’s going to be okay?”

My chest felt so tight, it was a wonder I could still breathe. “I can’t imagine life without him.”

“Thank you, Blaire.”

“Do you want me to stay here in your room tonight?”

She shook her head. “No, please. Go get some rest. We both need it.”

I blinked in the dark, unsure why I had woken out of such a deep sleep. I lifted my head and squinted at the clock on the nightstand. 12:54 a.m.

I flopped over onto my back, and a big warm hand covered my mouth, obscuring the scream that ripped out of my throat. My arms flailed, and then I felt cold metal beneath my chin. It took another couple of seconds to realize it was a gun nestled against my neck.

“Stop.” The voice was a low growl, with an accent that I couldn’t distinguish.

Sheer survival instinct made me go completely still. My eyes rolling in fear, I breathed wildly through my nostrils as my gaze landed on my assailant. My fragmented vision took in a monster-like man who seemed larger than life. What was happening? Who was this madman? Was he even sane? How could he be? Would it be better if I took my chances and screamed?

He reached over and clicked on the bedside lamp, and we stared at each other in the dim light.

Being able to see him didn’t make him any less scary. My mind was in overdrive, taking in every terrifying detail. He wore a dark toque, and whatever part of his face wasn’t covered with his beard was covered in dark paint. He was dressed completely in black and wore some sort of military or police armor on his chest.

But what scared me the most was his gaze. It was filled with regret.

Why regret? Is he going to kill me?

He tentatively lifted his hand off my mouth, but before I could speak, he cut me off. “Don’t make a sound,” he said in a heavy accent. “If anyone gets in my way, I’ll kill them. And their death will be your fault. Do you understand?”

I nodded in silence, even though I didn’t really understand what was happening.

“Get dressed. For outside.” He stepped back. “You make a sound, everyone here will die.”

I was terrified he was telling me the truth, so I simply lay there, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Move.”

I scrambled out of bed toward my suitcase. I operated on sheer muscle memory as I found a pair of jeans and a heavy sweater, but then I stood there, staring at them, wondering what I was doing. Am I in shock? I looked over, taking in the whole of him. He wore big black army boots, black fatigue pants, and a bulletproof vest over a black sweater. His facial hair was so dark it was almost black. His eyes were a dark brown, which, for some reason, surprised me.

“Get dressed.” He spoke with quiet but terrifying authority.

This is survival mode.

I obediently pulled on my jeans and pulled a heavy black turtleneck over my tank top. When I turned around, he was right there, towering over me. He held my flat winter boots in his hand.

He stood over me while I blindly shoved them on my bare feet. Sheer habit made me lace them up.

He grunted and reached behind me before shoving my black parka into my hands. “Put it on.”

I tried to recall some of the defense training I had learned, but my mind was drawing a blank. I shoved my arms into my coat and then, at his motion, I compliantly moved toward the bedroom door. Why am I obeying him again? He pressed his hard gun against my back. That’s why.

His low voice was in my ear. “No funny stuff.”

I wondered if he knew we would never get past the guards at the front gate. It was the only way out of here. There’s no way he’ll get us past everyone. Relief washed over me when I realized that this would be over in a few minutes. The important thing was to remain calm.

I waited for his signal to move, but he stood there silently. He stood so close, something rough on his chest lightly snagged the back of my parka every time he inhaled.

I listened. There was nothing outside my door. No footsteps. No sound of guards. No one awake. It was the dead of night. And I had a madman at my back.

Then, like a mockery of my living nightmare, the sweet chimes of the grandfather clock marked the hour from the main level. Bing, bing, bing, bing. In the dark, the clock sounded ominous. Bing, bing, bing, bing.

At first it sounded like firecrackers, but the snapping and popping from outside only became louder until a dark, terrifying boom ricocheted between the mountains. It sounded like thunder.

Shouts sounded from outside.

“That’s our cue,” said my captor. “Move.”

Below me, on the main level, I could hear movement, and then a door slammed. He grabbed me by an arm and yanked me down the dark hallway. To my surprise, he pulled me into the next room, over the billiards room. He jammed a chair under the door before he shoved me to the back of the room. I could hear confused voices calling out and doors opening and shutting downstairs.

He opened the doors of the balcony and yanked me outside before closing the door behind him.

“Down the stairs,” he instructed, never letting up the tight pressure on my upper arm.

I almost tripped, but he lifted me up and set me back on my feet. I clung to the cold stone railing of the stairs as he pushed me to move faster than I was capable of descending. Twice he yanked me back from doing a face plant on the wet steps.

When we got down to the ground, I looked up over my shoulder, over the house, to see the sky illuminated with a bright orange light.

“Did something explode?” Stunned, I stopped walking.

He pushed me toward the back of the yard, toward the forest, and in that moment I realized that we weren’t going to leave by the front of the house. This entire surreal experience had been bearable because I had stupidly believed that, at some point, this madman would be taken down and I would be safe. But now I realized that he might succeed in taking me off this property.

Never go to a secondary location with someone. Your chance of survival diminishes completely. Those were the words of my self-defense coach. I skidded to a stop and shook my head.

He looked back at me with exasperation.

Let him kill me here. I didn’t want to face whatever horrors he would exact on me if I went with him.

He had the nerve to sound pained. “Do you want me to shoot someone else?”

In my own terror, I had forgotten that dark threat. I need to protect my grandma.

“No.” I needed to get him as far away from her as possible, no matter what it cost me.

He pushed my now willing body into the dense bush, and then I was plunged into near darkness. I stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed me by the back of the coat. The heavy weight of his hand was on my back, shoving me forward.

Was he part of the same organization that had taken my grandfather? Was he going to murder me? Why hadn’t he killed me in the house? Did he want me alive? My mind spun in circles. “Why are you doing this?”

“Save your breath.”

Branches tangled in my hair, and wet leaves slapped my face. Almost immediately, the incline became punishing, and it didn’t help that we were climbing in total darkness. The muddy path was slippery, and I would have given up more than once, but each time, he shoved me forward and barked something at me in his language. No sane person would try to climb this mountain even in the daylight, yet, despite my state of shock, my hands continued to lunge forward, finding vines and branches to pull me up the steep path, while my feet found slippery footholds in the roots.

We moved upward until I could barely use my shaking legs. “How much further?”

“Keep going.”

Whatever adrenaline had gotten me this far had run out. My energy was completely spent. My hair and face were dripping wet from the moisture on the trees. My muscles were shaking uncontrollably, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. “I can’t go… any further.”

I heard the gun cock behind me.

That sound got me moving again. In misery, I started to scramble back up the path. Every part of me was soaked, and I felt so damn cold and winded. I had no idea how I was still moving, but somehow I continued to put one foot in front of the other.

After a lifetime of pain, his big hand yanked on my coat. “Stop walking,” he said quietly. “Sit.”

My legs, without my permission, folded beneath me, and I sank to the cold ground. A wet branch stuck to my face, but moving away from it didn’t seem worth the effort. No matter how hard I breathed, I couldn’t get enough oxygen into my lungs.

He was crouched down and doing something to his rifle.

“Why are you doing this?” I panted, desperate to know his motives. The sooner I could figure out what he wanted, the sooner I could negotiate with him.

Ignoring me, he cocked the gun and then slowly moved up the path. It was only when I saw his silhouette in the moonlight that I realized he was standing in front of a clearing. I could see nothing but a steep treeless terrain that disappeared upwards into inky darkness. He stood there, silent and scary, looking down the barrel of his gun into the abyss.

Who even owned a gun like that? What was he looking for? Why were we waiting? He had to be connected to my grandfather’s disappearance. He stood there for in interminable amount of time, long enough that I began to question exactly what would make someone like him wary.

“Can you see anything?”

“Quiet.”

I could hear only the wind rustling the tree branches above my head. Looking around, I realized we had climbed to the top of the tree line. No wonder I couldn’t feel my legs. Why had he brought me up here? When I first saw him, I thought that he was some crazed woodsman dragging me off to some wild man cave, but now I realized that he was too professional, too organized, to be considered crazy or deranged. He was probably someone’s henchman. I needed to find out who he was working for. What was he looking for through the scope of his gun?

“Are you looking for bears?”

“We need to move.” He slung the gun over his shoulder to the front of his chest. One of his gloved hands remained on the trigger while the other hand supported the base of the weapon. He looked comfortable holding his big weapon. That told me he was either military or a hunter.

I took a guess. “You’re military.”

He grabbed me by the elbow and yanked me onto my feet before shoving me toward the clearing. “You need to move faster when we cross here.”

I braced my weight against his hand as he pushed me toward the open space. “Why? What were you looking for? What is out there?”

Instead of pushing me ahead of him, he put his arm across my back and snuck one hand beneath my arm. “Let’s go.”

The loose stones on the hillside were like thousands of marbles. I slid back with almost every step.

I lost my balance, but before I hit the ground, I felt myself being swung into the air.

The breath nearly knocked out of me as I landed hard across his shoulders. My head was hanging toward the ground and my arm was draped down his back. I lifted my head and tried to kick my legs, but he had somehow secured my open legs over his right shoulder and, with his arm between my thighs, pinned my other arm to my own leg, making it almost impossible for me to move.

I tried to kick hard, but I only managed a squirm in his grasp.

“Relax,” he growled, as he started to hike.

I kicked with all my strength, but his only response was to tighten his hold on me.

“Put me down,” I demanded in sheer panic.

He ignored me as he began to scramble upward at an alarming speed. I held my body stiff, certain that he was going to fall and take us both down, but he remained upright. I heard the clatter of his boots against the loose rock, but he moved upwards with such tenacity and strength that he almost seemed inhuman. It was becoming clear I would never outrun this man—nor would I ever out-power him. If I wanted to get free, I would need to outsmart him.

I strained my neck, trying to keep my head upright, but my entire body trembled with the effort. I forced myself to think of a strategy. I needed to figure out why he had kidnapped me. What was his motive? Where was he taking me?

He sprinted upward, seemingly unbothered by the loose rocks. Twice he slipped, grunting as we slid backwards. When he fell, he never once lessened his grip on me, and he always caught himself and recovered.

“Do you work for someone? Are you looking for a ransom?” My voice bumped against the jostle of his long stride. “Where are you taking me?”

He ignored me.

When we reached the top of the ridge, he stopped momentarily. I could feel tension in his body as he looked around.

“What are you looking for?” I whispered, suddenly afraid, straining my neck to see what he saw.

“Hang on,” he said. His fingers felt like a tight, warm band around my wrist. “This part will be rough.”

That was an understatement. Our descent felt like I was riding a bear down a moving avalanche. I would have screamed, but I was too busy holding my breath as he half ran, half slid down the rocks at a terrifying rate.

Ohmygod. Ohmygod. Certain that one of us would die going down that hill, I clung to his belt, tucking my head against his back, praying he wouldn’t come down on top of me.

I felt him skid to a stop, and before I could react, he flipped me back over his shoulder, and, with a surprising gentleness, set me on my feet. As the blood rushed out of my brain, I staggered back and looked up at him. He was breathing lightly, and he barely seemed winded.

“Who are you?”

He stared back at me, looking no less scary than the first time I opened my eyes to his face. “You always talk this much?”

I know it was stupid—that it took a personal insult to make me cry—but angry tears burned my eyes. “You took me.”

He blinked as my voice went up three notches.

“You took me. Out of my bed, threatened to kill me and my people, dragged me up and then down an entire mountain, and now we are in dangerous terrain and even you are worried about the bears—but I’m not allowed to ask a question?”

“I’m not worried about bears.”

“And you know what, I may talk too much, but you—” My thoughts scattered as I tried to think of the worst insult possible. “You are the worst kidnapper. You don’t even have a getaway vehicle.”

With a detached manner, he motioned for me to start walking. “Let’s go.”

“First, tell me where we’re going!”

He grabbed my arm and shoved me toward some invisible path. “Walk and talk.”

I gingerly started to move down the path. I was certain I couldn’t outrun him. If I stopped walking, he would either shoot me or carry me. But even if I managed to get away from him, I wasn’t entirely sure I would be able to find my way back to the house.

He put a big hand on my shoulder. “Stop.”

His urgent, whispered command made me freeze in fear. I stayed completely silent, and instinct made me try to calm my own breath. He was acting like something was up here on the mountain with us. What could he possibly be afraid of? He was strong, fast, and had a massive gun. Men like him shouldn’t be afraid.

His big hand let go of my shoulder. “Pick up the pace.”

I couldn’t seem to move. I remained completely frozen as I whispered, “If you’re not afraid of bears, what are you worried about?”

“Walk.”

My legs trembled, this time with fear. “Cougars?”

“I’m not afraid of a cat,” he scoffed with his heavy accent.

I glanced back at him. “What are you afraid of?”

“Eyes forward.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“What were we listening for? What are you looking for?”

“Start walking and I’ll tell you.”

With inhumane effort, I managed to start moving my legs again. “You’re nervous about something up here. What?”

“I’m looking for someone.”

That made me stumble. I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him. “You think there’s another person on this mountain?”

I scanned over my shoulders, wondering if one of the security guards had followed and was trying to locate me. Should I be screaming for help? Giving away our location? Was my rescue only a couple of minutes away?

“I know there is.”

I opened my mouth to scream as he spun me around, yanked me against his big chest, and covered my mouth with his hand. He stared down at me for a long moment. “Someone like me.”

I mumbled through his hand. “You think someone else is here to kidnap me?”

“Someone worse.”

I scoffed as I pulled myself out of his grasp and he let me go. “Worse than you? A monster who dragged me out of the bed in the middle of the night and threatened to kill the people I love?”

I felt my feet flip out from beneath me. My arms flung above my head as I felt myself go down hard. His strong grasp caught my coat. It damn near strangled me, but also saved me from hitting the ground. Within seconds, he had me back on my feet.

“Enough. Focus.”

“How do you know someone is out here?”

He pointed at the path, directing me to move. “I can feel him.”

“Never knew that monsters were afraid of other monsters.”

I ruined that insult by nearly coming off my feet a second time. This time, I managed to grab a tree branch and slide my way down the path. He moved within arm’s reach of me, but he didn’t touch me again.

Even if I didn’t believe him, keeping him talking was the best way to understand what he wanted. “What does this alleged person want from me?”

“No clue.”

“What do you want from me?” I shivered hard. “Tell me.”

“We can talk when we get there.”

“Get where?”

“Someplace warm.”

If it meant getting off this godforsaken mountain where I had no advantage, I was all for it. With that promise ringing in my ears, I turned and started walking again, this time trying to match his silence.

Who was he? Who did he work for? Another country, or a group from another country? It would help if I could identify his accent. “Are you German?”

He scoffed. “No.”

“Are you from Ukraine?”

“Not answering that.”

I wracked my fatigued brain for more Slavic languages.

“You don’t sound Polish.”

He made a noise.

“Russian?”

He remained silent.

That small victory warmed me up. Finally, I knew one thing about my captor. My monster was Russian.