Witness Protection Read online

  EVERNIGHT PUBLISHING ®

  www.evernightpublishing.com

  Copyright© 2019 Stacey Espino

  ISBN: 978-1-77339-903-4

  Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

  Editor: Karyn White

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The darkness clung to her like shadows refusing to move on.

  —The Initiation by Sam Crescent

  WITNESS PROTECTION

  Stacey Espino

  Copyright © 2019

  Chapter One

  Men ran up and down the hall outside her bedroom, their heavy footfalls making the glass in her windows rattle. Her father would be pissed tonight. He hated when his men let business get too close to home. She expected at least one of his hired guns would be executed to make an example, to instill fear in the others.

  Always with the fear.

  Sophia could practically hear his speech already. What was worse than everything, was the fact she’d become immune to the violence. It was ingrained in her life, and her father did little to hide his business from her. He believed not teaching her his native Russian tongue would be enough to keep her in the dark, but she wasn’t so naïve.

  A barrage of gunfire rang out downstairs.

  Sophia didn’t flinch.

  She sat on the window bench in her bedroom, looking down at the cars driving by, wishing she was being whisked to someplace far, far away. But, no, she was here, practically a damn prisoner in her own home.

  Sophia had everything money could buy. If only there was a price tag on her freedom. She walked over to her dresser and picked up a framed picture, running a finger against the glass, smiling at the memory. It was her graduation, and her father had pride on his face, his arm around her shoulders … God, how she missed those days.

  It was soon after the picture was taken when things changed.

  Once she started maturing, he grew distant, saying she looked too much like her mother. He was convinced she’d become a whore like her and began accusing her of trying to sleep around. Men on his payroll who showed too much interest suddenly disappeared, never to be heard from again.

  So, most of her time she was home, under careful watch, unable to embrace her independence. She lost herself in reading, studies, and her passion had always been painting. One corner of her room was a mess of canvases, easels, and unfinished projects.

  At twenty-four, she still didn’t know what the fuck real life felt like. Some days she wished she’d never been born, that she’d been slaughtered along with her mother. Taking her own life had infiltrated her thoughts more and more over the years. It both disturbed and fascinated her. Her imagination was the only thing keeping her sane.

  She set the picture back in place, next to one of her many Russian dolls. Whenever her father became especially cruel, he’d bring her a new one the next day as some kind of peace offering. Her collection was growing. It seemed guilt was stronger than love. No matter how beautiful or priceless, the collection only represented the pain it was meant to cover up.

  More gunshots.

  Sophia rolled her eyes.

  Maybe a stray bullet would end her misery. Would her father regret being an asshole once she was dead?

  Her door burst open. She gasped and whirled around.

  “Come!” Hawk motioned for her to take his hand. He was out of breath, a sense of urgency in his voice she’d never heard before. He was one of her father’s enforcers and the babysitter who constantly kept tabs on her activities.

  “What is it?”

  “We have to go. Right now, Sophia.” He took a couple brisk strides into the room and wrapped his hand around her wrist, yanking her along with him. She stumbled, half protesting. The scent of gunpowder stung her nose when they emerged into the hallway. He switched hands, holding her wrist with his left hand so he could pull out a Glock with his right.

  “Tell me what’s going on,” she said.

  “Hush.”

  He navigated down the hallway toward the massive winding staircase. The stairs always reminded her of fairy tales. When she’d been younger, she would pretend to be a princess trapped in a castle.

  Today was more of a nightmare.

  A body lay sprawled out near the final steps, blood pooling, dripping down like a morbid waterfall.

  She bolted to a stop, digging in her heels.

  “Not now, Sophia. Your father wants you safe. Let’s go,” said Hawk, his hand still shackling her wrist. There was no way she could escape from him. The man was built like a brick shit house, solid muscle and covered in ink. One of her father’s top enforcers. But she wasn’t afraid of him, even though everyone else seemed to be.

  As much as she wanted to protest, she allowed him to lead her down the staircase. He kept his gun at the ready, aiming at every new angle as they descended. Another man lay dead in the foyer, and several of the stained-glass panels had shattered, colorful shards of glass scattered over the white marble. There was commotion coming from the back kitchen, garnering Hawk’s full attention. He opened the coat closet in the foyer. “Get in there. Don’t move until I come back. I have to find your father.”

  She crouched down, and then he closed the door, blanketing her in darkness. It didn’t take long for the air to turn stale. Her legs began to cramp. Sophia imagined that she was one of those dead bodies, her blood soaking the marble. Her father would probably curse because she’d stained the porous tiles. When she was a kid, he forever gave her shit when he caught her painting in the foyer. But she loved how the stained-glass made her skin turn to rainbows.

  Time seemed to stand still.

  How long had she been inside the closet?

  The sound of her own breathing drowned out all the sounds, claustrophobia setting in. Sophia opened the door an inch to let in some fresh air. She took a deep, cleansing breath, savoring the cool air filling her lungs.

  That’s when she saw movement in the library.

  The double doors flung open, and a man she’d never seen before dragged her father out by the back collar of his suit jacket. Like a dog. Her father’s nose was bloodied, and she’d never seen him so afraid. Now that she thought about it, she’d never seen fear in his eyes.

  “This is the end of the road, Vasily.” The man pressed the muzzle of his gun to her father’s head. “No more playing God. It’s time to meet your maker.”

  He pulled the trigger.

  The spray of blood was surreal, the body collapsing heavily to the floor. Sophia gagged, her stomach roiling, her vision blurring. She let go of the closet doorknob and it swung outwards, the hinges making the slightest squeak. The murderer’s head whipped to the side, their eyes meeting. Her jaw dropped, and she froze, too terrified to move or think.

  He only managed to take one step before bullets came flying at him from the back of the house. The monster didn’t seem fazed, still staring at her with those evil eyes. He lifted his gun, pointing it directly at her. She held her breath, everything seeming to play out in slow motion.

  A bullet grazed the gunman’s face, and he brought his free hand up to cup his cheek. He cursed and ran out of the foyer just before Hawk and Vladimir raced out the front door after him.

  Her adrenaline rush made her dizzy. She still couldn’t move, and only gasped small mouthfuls of air as the blood from Vasily Morenov’s body slow
ly spread out toward her like spilled paint. She wondered what colors she’d have to mix to recreate the crimson hue. Her mind began to fracture, the room slowly spinning. So many images flooded her mind, a kaleidoscope of moments now lost to memories.

  He can’t be dead.

  Her father was the only family she had. He was invincible. She should be horrified … but somehow, she only felt numb.

  “Sophia!” The voice was muted, as if she were hearing it from under water. Was she drowning? It felt like everything in her life was being washed away. When her body was hoisted into the air, reality came rushing back, along with all the sharp sounds—shouting, car doors, alarms. “Sophia, snap out of it!”

  Hawk carried her through the hallway to the back of the house. She wrapped an arm around his neck to hold on, her body bouncing up and down as he jogged the rest of the way. She slipped in and out of reality, old memories merging with the present. It was Hawk who’d rushed her out in his arms on her eighteenth birthday when the FBI raided the house during her party.

  Her father had handled everything, like he always did.

  Now he was dead.

  Using his shoulder, Hawk rammed open the emergency door, and set her on her feet next to one of the black BMWs. “Get in,” he said before helping her fasten her seatbelt. It seemed so trivial. Worrying about a seatbelt when so many men had just lost their lives. How many other daughters had lost their fathers tonight? Had any become orphans like her?

  Hawk slid over the hood to get to the driver’s side. He checked the clip of his Glock before replacing it in his shoulder holster.

  “Cops are coming,” said Vlad, standing in the open doorway.

  “Deal with it. I need to get Sophia somewhere safe.”

  “Any idea who it was?”

  Hawk shook his head. “He’s a lone wolf. There’s no contract on Morenov’s head. If there was, I’d already know about it.”

  “How the hell did some nobody take out that many men?”

  Hawk ran a hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. “Fuck! I should have been there.”

  “What the hell happened?” asked Vlad.

  His jaw twitched. “He told me to protect Sophia. Last I saw him he was safe.” Hawk pounded his fist on the roof of the car, making her jump in her seat. “I can’t believe he’s gone.”

  “We’ll find out whoever did this. Where you taking the girl?”

  “I have no fucking clue.”

  ****

  Hawk backed out of the driveway, then spun around once on the roadway, the tires squealing when he floored the gas. He still wasn’t sure where he was heading. His mind was a fucking mess.

  Vasily was dead.

  That man was the only father figure he’d ever known. Now he had nothing.

  Vasily had taken Hawk in when he was ten years old, raised him, taught him to fight, to protect the Morenov Empire. He owed everything to Vasily, and he had no clue what would become of his life now. He was thirty-two, and he’d never held a legal job. All he’d known was a life of crime, his focus on protecting the family. Hawk was one of the few men his boss trusted with his daughter. She’d been his full-time ward since she turned eighteen.

  He remembered his passenger, looking to the side to check on Sophia. Her father was dead. Nothing he could do would bring him back. Nothing he could say would fix this shit.

  One thing for certain, he’d never let anything happen to Vasily’s only daughter. He’d die protecting her.

  “Sophia, talk to me.”

  She stared straight ahead, not moving, not speaking. Her eyes were glazed over as if a million miles away.

  “Say something, goddammit.”

  Nothing.

  He swerved to an alcove on the side of the highway, putting the car into park. Hawk shifted in his seat, and cupped her face with both hands, giving her a jostle. “Sophia!”

  He never knew what to expect from her. Some days she was tough as nails, all strength, even challenging her father, and others she’d crumble just hearing a car honk. Growing up in one of the biggest crime families could really do a number on a person.

  Her lips parted, and she slowly focused on his eyes. His heart went out to her. She was an orphan like him now, and fragile like a china doll. He half expected her to shatter in his hands.

  “Hawk.”

  “I’m here, baby. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.” She was in shock. No tears, no fear, no panic. “Did he see you? The man who shot your father, did he see you?”

  She swallowed, making eye contact again. Sophia nodded. Fuck. In their world, witnesses had a seriously short shelf life. That bastard would come looking for her. He wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Hawk had to get her somewhere safe until he could figure things out.

  “Okay. No problem.” He turned around and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. No way would he freak her out and tell her how much danger she was in. He had to keep cool.

  Hiding out at one of their many properties around the city wouldn’t be smart. That gunman had just taken down nearly a dozen of the city’s most renowned killers. Morenov only kept the best close to home. He’d have to use cash and get them in a high-rise hotel under a fake name. He pulled back onto the highway, heading for the city center.

  “He’s dead, right?”

  They’d been driving for a while. He was surprised to hear her voice. “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Considering Vasily’s brains were splattered all over the fucking foyer, there was no doubt in his mind. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

  “This can’t be real. How can this be happening?”

  “It’s all my fault. I should have been there,” he said. If he didn’t have to protect Sophia, he’d probably have swallowed a bullet to end his own guilt. “After everything he’s done for me, I wasn’t there when he needed me most.”

  She returned to her trance, not disagreeing with him. He didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and he doubted she’d ever offer it.

  Hawk drove.

  When they arrived at the hotel, he held Sophia’s hand and left the car with the valet. The Morenov princess was used to the best, so they couldn’t just stay at any dive. He pushed through the glass doors and headed to the check-in desk. The massive chandeliers offered dim lighting to the spacious lobby.

  “I need a room for me … and my wife.”

  “How many nights will you be staying with us?” The man at reception looked to be late twenties with an English accent.

  “I don’t know. At least a week. I need something high. Something private.”

  The guy nodded, looking at his computer screen. Sophia held his hand in a death grip. “Is she okay?”

  Hawk looked over at Sophia. She was pale as a sheet. “She’s not feeling well. Can we speed this along?”

  “Do you have a credit card for our files?”

  “No. I have cash.” He reached into his inside jacket pocket, careful not to reveal his gun, and pulled out a stack of hundreds. He slapped them on the counter. “Consider this my security deposit. I need a key card.”

  Hawk had been raised in a world where money and power talked. It was ingrained into every fiber of his being. He was used to getting his way, no matter the cost.

  By the time the elevator stopped on the top floor, Sophia was wobbling on her feet. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her down the hall to their penthouse suite. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and brought her straight to the bedroom. He laid her down on the king-sized bed, removed her flats, and tucked her in.

  “Get some rest,” he said. Hawk gave her a kiss on the forehead and closed the bedroom door behind him. Once alone, he exhaled, wishing this was all a nightmare he could wake up from.

  He began to pace, rubbing behind his neck as he tried to focus. Only hours ago, he’d been sitting back in one of Vasily’s custom leather chairs, enjoying a Cuban cigar as they shot the shit about an upcoming distribution meeting. He could sti
ll hear Marco laughing, and remembered Enon telling them his wife just had a baby.

  They were all dead.

  Hawk braced a hand on one of the floor-to-ceiling glass panes, blowing out another breath as he stared at the streets below, the people rushing around like ants. He didn’t know what he was dealing with, so couldn’t be too safe. Hawk still wasn’t foolish enough to believe being forty floors up meant they were untouchable.

  He’d only caught a glimpse of the shooter. Dark brown hair, shaved at the sides, long on top, and a tattoo crawling up his neck. He had to be around 6’4”, wearing black jeans and a dark sweater. Still, not much to go on.

  All Vasily’s top men were dead. There was just him and Vladimir left. The other hired guns didn’t live in the mansion because Vasily didn’t trust them enough to be under the same roof as Sophia. And they probably didn’t give a shit that their boss had just been assassinated. There was no second in command, no plan of action if Morenov was taken out. Hawk liked to think of himself as a son, but that had always been his own wishful thinking.

  He pulled out his cell and called Vlad.

  “Yeah.”

  “What happened with the cops? You find out anything?” he asked.

  “Everything’s been dealt with for now. The cleaning crew is coming for the bodies. Where’d you take the girl?”

  “Don’t worry about her. What about the shooter?”

  “I checked the security footage. He’s professional, all right. Maybe a private hit? Something personal? No fucking clue.”

  “Okay. Call me if you have anything new. I’m going to lay low until we know more about this fucker.”

  “Watch your back.” Vlad ended the call.

  He put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign and locked the door after checking out the hallway. He was fucking paranoid. At least Sophia was safe. Hawk took off his coat and holster, dropping them on the kitchen island. He opened the crystal decanter on the bar and poured himself a glass of hard liquor, knocking it back in one shot. This was not how he planned his day.