Credited To The Mafia Lord

CARSON

Standing across the road from Hailey’s house, I wonder where she went. I haven’t seen her all day, and when I checked at the bar, Lars said it was her weekend off.

It’s been four days since I walked her home. I’m still not sure it was the right thing to do. I should’ve remained in the shadows, but the urge to interact with her overwhelmed me.

My thoughts go back to when we were standing in front of her house. I know she felt it too. The attraction. It hit me like a natural disaster and wreaked havoc with my ironclad control. I almost crossed the line. If I had stood there for a second longer, I would have taken her mouth and whatever else she was willing to give without a second thought.

Luckily, I didn’t act on my desire.

Desire. It’s another emotion that’s joined the many Hailey’s been making me feel.

My phone begins to ring, and digging it out of my pocket, I answer it. “Koslov.”

“It’s Madame Keller.”

She’s the architect of St Monarch’s, which is situated near Geneva. It’s where I received my training.

“I have a contract for you.”

“Anonymous?” I ask. That’s the only time a contract would come through St. Monarch’s as they act as a go-

between as well. Madame Keller is the person you go to if you need information or protection. St. Monarch’s offers any service people like me might need, even emergency care if we’re shot. It’s one of the reasons I settled in Switzerland. I’m close to neutral ground should shit go sideways.

“Yes. I’ll send you the details. You have an hour to notify me if you’ll accept the contract. It’s urgent.”

“Okay.”

The call ends, and a couple of seconds later, the message comes through. I glance over the details.

Contract: Joseph Rudaj Business: Drug trafficker Time Sensitive: 24 Hours Location: Zurich

Fee: 6 500 000. 00

I text my reply.

Fee for up-close hit: 10 000 000. 00

I won’t settle for anything less.

A couple of minutes later, the reply comes through.

Fee of 10 000 000. 00: Accepted

I type out my response.

Contract on Joseph Rudaj: Accept

Glancing at Hailey’s cabin, I head home. Twenty minutes later, I walk into my armory, which doubles as my office. I take a seat in front of the screens and computers and check where last Rudaj was spotted.

I reach out to my contacts, and it takes an hour before one has information on Rudaj. Minutes after I’ve made the

required payment, I receive photos of Rudaj hanging out at Gallary, a nightclub in Zurich. The information says it’s where he sells most of the heroin.

I check the address and memorize it.

Pulling up the map where the club is located, I study it until I know every escape route by heart.

I hate urgent contracts. It doesn’t leave any time for planning a long-distance shot. Winging it is definitely not my style. Neither are up-close kills.

Going to my room, I grab a black beanie, jeans, a gray t- shirt, and a leather jacket from my closet. I lay the outfit out on my bed, and heading to the bathroom, I use a beard trimmer to cut the bristles shorter until there’s only a dark shadow on my jaw.

I shower before changing into the outfit, then look at my reflection in the mirror. Satisfied that I’ll blend in with the clubbing crowd, I tuck my phone in my pocket and head out of the house.

I keep telling myself it’s worth the money as I make the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Zurich.

My thoughts drift from the contract to Hailey, and I wonder where she went today. I need to get a tracking device on her so I can check where she is.

The thought shudders through me.

Fuck, Carson.

A tracking device?

I shake my head and force myself to focus on the contract.

When I finally reach Zurich, I park a couple of blocks away from the club, which only opens at eleven pm. I walk to a nearby restaurant and ask for a corner table, so I’ll have a clear view of the interior and entrance. As I follow the hostess, I glance out of the windows and come to a sudden stop as I see Hailey walk by.

Without a word to the hostess, I spin around and rush out of the restaurant.

Christ, this is bad.

I should cancel the contract.

“Hailey,” I call as soon as I’m outside.

She glances over her shoulder. “Uh… yeah?” She narrows her eyes, and as I step closer, recognition dawns on her face. A smile flashes around her lips as her eyes widen. “Sorry, you look different.” Her gaze drifts over me, then she says with a teasing tone, “I didn’t think you owned anything else but black clothes.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I’m touring the rest of Switzerland on my off weekends.

And you?”

I’m here to kill a drug dealer.

“Meeting a friend,” I lie.

The thought that she’s in Zurich makes panic creep into my chest. The emotion is more distracting than anything she’s made me feel to date.

Fuck.

Lifting a hand, I rub the back of my neck. “Where are you staying?”

“The Citizen hostel.” She shrugs. “It’s only for tonight, and it’s cheap.”

A fucking hostel?

My eyes lock with hers, and we stare at each other as I try to come up with a plan to get her out of Zurich.

Think, Carson.

Hailey reaches for my arm, placing her palm on my bicep. A concerned expression makes her smile fade. “You look worried. Is everything okay?”

That’s an understatement.

“You shouldn’t travel alone.” I let out a deep breath, the pressure in my chest building.

She’s such an easy target for flesh peddlers.

“I’ll be fine.”

I glance down at my watch and notice the club opens in thirty minutes.

I still have time.

“Are you heading to the hostel now?” I ask. “Yeah?”

“Let me give you a ride.”

I take hold of her elbow, and we begin to walk toward where I parked the SUV.

“Aren’t you meeting your friend?” she asks.

Moving my hand to her lower back, I answer, “Not for another two hours.”

I have to wait for the club to fill with people. The more, the better, as it will make it easier to blend in then.

Hailey comes to a dead stop on the pavement. “Then we have time for coffee.” Turning around, she grabs hold of my hand and begins to pull me back toward the restaurant.

Christ, this night is going to shit at the speed of light.

HAILEY

How lucky am I?

My insides bubble with excitement from running into Carson.

As we take a seat at a table, my eyes drift over him again.

Damn, he looks devastatingly hot in jeans and a leather

jacket.

I set my bag down next to my chair. It contains my clothes for the weekend.

When a waiter comes to our table, Carson places the order for two coffees, and it has me asking, “How many languages can you speak?”

“A couple,” he answers vaguely. “Which ones?” I press.

“German, Italian, French…” His eyes lock with mine as his words trail off.

He still looks worried, and I’m starting to think it’s because he’s out in public. I’ve read it’s exhausting for introverts to be among people. Wanting to set him at ease, I

reach across the table and place my hand on his. “Try to ignore the other people. Pretend it’s just us.”

Carson’s eyes lower to where I’m touching him, and it has me pulling back.

“If I knew you were coming, I would’ve hitched a ride with you and saved the money for the bus ticket.”

He tilts his head, his eyes sharpening on my face. “Instead of staying at a hostel and paying for another bus ticket, you can ride back to Saint Luc with me.”

My insides do a happy dance at the offer. That will give me more time with him.

Without hesitating, I smile widely at Carson. “That would be great. Thanks.”

He looks surprised by my answer, but it quickly fades from his face, and soon the worried expression is back.

“Will you wait in my car while I meet with the friend? It will take thirty minutes.”

I shrug. “I don’t mind.”

The waiter brings our coffees, and I stir two sugars into the beverage.

I can’t believe I’m having coffee with Carson, and I’ll be riding home with him. I’m getting to spend hours with him and not just a couple of random minutes.

My lips curve impossibly high at the happiness the thought brings me.

Carson’s eyes lower to my mouth, and the expression on his face changes until he seems to be deep in thought.

I use the moment to get some staring done as well, and like a stalkerish fangirl, I try to memorize every inch of his face.

Suddenly his eyes lift, and they collide with mine.

We sit frozen as the same electric current I felt on Tuesday begins to buzz between us. My heartbeat picks up, and my breaths grow deeper.

I wonder what it would feel like to kiss Carson. What it would be like to date him.

I have no idea how much time passes before Carson lets out a heavy breath and takes a sip of his coffee, breaking the magical moment between us.

Wanting to know everything about him, I clear my throat and say, “We’ve known each other for weeks, and I still don’t know what your last name is.”

Carson’s jaw clenches, but after long seconds he murmurs, “Koslov.”

Carson Koslov.

The hermit I’m falling in love with.

The thought rocks me to my core, and I almost drop the cup. Setting it down, I stare at the liquid with a racing heart.

Am I?

Really?

But…

I’ll only be in Saint Luc for three months. I can’t fall in love. It will only complicate things.

“Hailey.” My skin responds to the low timbre of his voice with goosebumps.

I lift my eyes to his.

Carson leans a little closer, and tilting his head, he asks, “Everything okay?”

Quickly I nod. “Yeah. Sure.”

“You looked worried for a moment.”

“Not at all.” I let out a chuckle then return to our conversation. “My last name is Welsh.”

“Hailey Welsh,” he says my name slowly as if he’s tasting it, and it makes a sweet ache spread through my abdomen and stomach.

I take a sip of my beverage then ask, “Tell me, what does an introvert do for a living?”

Carson’s eyes dart around the restaurant, and it takes a moment before he replies. “I’m a contractor.”

My smile widens again. “What a coincidence. My dad’s in construction. Do you travel a lot with your job?”

He nods and finishes his coffee.

“Are you from Russia?” I ask another question. Again he nods. “I lived there until I was sixteen.”

“And your family?” The questions are popping up fast, my need to get to know everything about him growing.

“My brother lives in America.” “Your parents?”

Carson shakes his head. “I never knew my mother and my father died when I was sixteen.”

I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “I’m sorry.”

He just shrugs as if the memories don’t bring him pain at all. Maybe he wasn’t close with his dad?

“Is that why you moved from Russia?”

Carson nods. “My brother moved me to Switzerland, so I’d be near him.”

“Are you and your brother close?”

I hope they are. It would be heartbreaking to find out Carson is alone in this world.

“We are.”

My mouth curves up again as relief flutters through me. “That’s good to hear.”

There’s a moment of silence, and it makes me realize I’m still holding his hand. Reluctantly I let go and pull my hand back to my side of the table.

Carson glances at his watch, and I ask, “Do you need to go meet your friend?”Text © by N0ve/lDrama.Org.

He shakes his head. “Another hour.”

I relax back in my chair and grin at him. “Good, because I have more questions.”

The waiter comes, and Carson asks, “Another coffee?” I nod. “Please.”

When we have our refills, I ask, “What do you do when you’re not working?”

He shrugs, and it draws my eyes to his shoulders, square beneath the leather jacket. “I work out.” He shrugs again. “Go to the bar.”

I let out a chuckle, and it makes the corner of his mouth curve up.

“Say something in Russian.” “Like?”

“Anything. What’s your favorite curse word?”

Things feel relaxed between us, and Carson doesn’t look worried anymore.

“Blyad’,” he mutters, and hearing him say something in his native language sounds dangerous. It makes exhilaration pump through my veins.

“What does it mean?”

“It’s similar to damn or fuck.”

“Blyad’,” I try the word, but it doesn’t sound nearly as threatening as when he said it. When Carson nods, I grin. “Now I can curse the people back home without them knowing.”

Then he murmurs, “Krasivaya.” I tilt my head, and it has him translating it. “Beautiful.”

Slowly my smile fades as our eyes stay locked on each other.

Carson thinks I’m beautiful?

The thought makes warmth pour into my heart. I get a feeling it’s not something he would just say lightly, and it means so much more than just an everyday compliment would.