Savage Sinner: An Enemies To Lovers Russian - Italian Dark Mafia Romance (Sinfully Savage Mafia)

“Okay, Good Samaritan, now what? Who do we take care of first?” Patrick grimaces as several pairs of footsteps thump along the floor. Shit. None of this has gone the way I planned. We’ve wandered into some kind of elaborate labyrinth that is separated from the casino, and right now, our escape route is blocked. I shove Patrick aside and crouch low, pointing my gun in the direction of the approaching sounds. As soon as they appear, I fire off some shots. Bodies land in a heap in the middle of the floor and I jump over them, running down the hall with Patrick huffing behind me. “You need to get in some more cardio, man, and I don’t mean the kind that involves hooking up with random women,” I grumble as I stop next to another closed door, grasping the knob and pushing open the door. I hope this is it. Vigo has plenty of security hawking the casino floor, and if any of those guys wander back here, we’ll be outnumbered.

I twist the doorknob, shocked to find out it opens without me being forced to kick it in, but thankful because I’m really trying to limit the noise. I walk inside the darkened room blinking fast as I process the bloody scene splashed in front of my eyes. Vigo Kosolov is on the floor, face up, with a knife sticking out of his throat. “Looks like someone beat me to the punch,” I mutter as Patrick inches into the room behind me.

“Beat you?” he says, quirking an eyebrow. “You mean us, right?”

I scrub a hand down the front of my face. “Don’t flatter yourself, Patty.”

“So now what?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at Vigo’s blade-torn neck.

“We get the fuck out of here.”

“Great, how the fuck is Conor not gonna be fingered for this, especially if he’s already on Vigo’s shit list?” Patty groans.

I hear a soft whimper from a corner and I step farther into the room, peering into the shadows. “Who the fuck is there?” I growl, pointing my gun into the empty space where the sound pricked my ears.

“P-Please,” a heavy female Russian accent responds in a quivering voice. “Don’t hurt me. I am innocent! I need help!”

I toss a glance at Patrick over my shoulder. “Cover me,” I mouth to him before creeping closer to the voice.

“Come out,” I say gruffly. “Or I start shooting.”

A rustling sound follows as the shadow morphs into a body…a fucking incredible one, not that I’m paying close attention to that fact. We’re on borrowed time, and who knows for how long it’s gonna last?

A girl who looks to be in her early twenties inches toward me, teetering on heels she probably has no business even wearing. My throat tightens. Is she one of Vigo’s girls? An innocent victim whose life he stole away?

He’s lucky he’s dead already.

“Please help me get out of here,” she cries. “He almost…he started to…” She breaks down again, choking on a sob as she recounts her story. “He told me I’d have a good job and make lots of money, but then…then…” She starts to sink back onto the floor again, but the clock is ticking and our window is closing fast.

I hold out a hand to her, and she steps over his body, her shoulders quaking as the tears stream down her face once again. Her eyeliner is smudged under her brown eyes and her dark hair is matted to her face.

But she’s alive.

Still, even though she looks like a hot mess right now, I don’t lower the gun. The reality is she probably just narrowly escaped being sold into some sex trafficking ring, but I don’t like to take unnecessary chances.

“Put up your hands,” I say as she moves closer to me.

She recoils. “I just told you that I’m—”

“Yeah, innocent. I heard you the first time. Put up your hands. I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”

The girl slowly puts up her hands, her confused gaze traveling from me to Patrick and then back again.

So I quickly frisk her, ignoring the way her curves feel under the pads of my fingertips because above all else. I’m a goddamn hitman. Eliminating risk is a big part of my job, and until I can prove otherwise, that’s exactly what she is.

Hot as fuck, but still a risk.

Once my hands have completed their task and no weapons are found, I grasp her hand and pull her close. “I don’t know who you are, but if you wanna live, you’ll keep quiet and run fast. Got it?”

“You can help me get out of here?” Tears pool in her eyes, but there is a flicker of hope in the depths. “You can save me?”

I nod, pulling her close, her fresh floral scent wafting under my nostrils. I drink it in, unable to help myself, and for a split second it clouds my mind.

I grit my teeth. Assassins don’t get sidetracked by perfume, dammit!

I nod toward Patrick. “Go. I’ve got your back. We have to get the hell outta here before someone wanders back here to find Vigo.”

“Wait, I need my bag!” She grabs a small, beaded handbag and I grab her wrist, dragging her out of the office. I don’t bother to check it. Any good assassin would have a weapon on her person. You never know when your purse might get lost or stolen or confiscated by an enemy.