Desired By The Mafia Boss

Chapter 3

"You got it," came the response. Jessamae managed to catch a flurry of moving bodies through the keyhole.

"Kill these fools!" Nomer growled in Russian. A series of cries erupted from the other side of the door.

"Stop him!"

"Damn! He's getting away!"

"Well, go and get him!"

Something seeped underneath the door, followed by a metallic stench that wafted up to her nose. Her stomach clenched as she looked down and noticed the blood pooling beside her bare feet. She moved them away in disgust. Whoever these men were, they had just killed two people!

Adrenaline surged in her veins, her eyes widening as she peered through the keyhole again. A man stood over one of the bleeding bodies, his broad shoulders blocking most of her vision. Something squelched as he withdrew a metallic object. She sucked in a breath - a katana.

His movement suddenly halted, and her stomach plummeted as the back of his head c****d sideways in confusion. He had noticed the streaks of blood on the white marble floors that he hadn't made.

Uh oh. This was bad.

The shadowy figure sauntered over, each step sure and deliberate. She shook as adrenaline coursed through her body. No...

But the man's heavy footsteps echoed against the tiles, growing ever closer, until they halted directly in front of her. She swallowed the dry lump forming in her throat. This was it.

Light flooded into the small area as the door to the storage room was flung open, and she found herself staring into the most intense pair of charcoal eyes she had ever seen. Whoa....

Standing at six-foot-three, the broad-shouldered Japanese man was older than her, possibly in his early thirties, with wavy onyx hair. Blood splatters marred his heart-shaped face, full lips, and straight nose. He wiped blood off his cheek with the back of his hand, revealing a beauty spot. She tore her gaze to his ears, both of which were heavily pierced with a variety of black gemstones. A series of intricate tattoos began at his neck and disappeared somewhere down his solid torso and black shirt. And as she stared, utterly transfixed, an intense and unfamiliar heat betrayed the gnawing fear growing in the pit of her stomach. How could a killer be so...so...so beautiful?

In an instant, the moment evaporated, and she remembered the danger she was in. Uh oh.

His eyes narrowed as he grabbed her by the scruff of her blazer and pulled her out with a single yank. "H-hey! Be gentle with the suit!" she protested.

She was thrown onto the floor and landed in a crumpled heap, her mouth wide open in shock as the man loomed above her, a sharpened katana pointed at her throat.

"Please!" She raised both hands above her head. "I'm innocent! Don't kill me!"

She tried to move, but the man shook his head. "Hnnn. I wouldn't do that if I were you, lady."

Her gaze shifted to the vibrant blood-red leather jacket embroidered with the words 'The Crimson Jade Motorcycle Club' on the pocket, and she noticed the badge on his chest. President. Her heart sank. She was in deep trouble.

.......

There she was, huddled on the floor, small and catlike, standing at approximately five-and-a-half-foot tall. Her long, waist-length hair was as soaked as her clothes. Her lips, neither too small nor too large, but perfectly formed, widened in shock. An immediate vision of her mouth around him caused an ache in his groin. Despite this, he shrugged. She was attractive, he supposed.

But he had never been one to trust anyone just because they appeared innocent. Especially women. Women were nothing but trouble.

Daniel, the heavily bearded security guard of 'The Lounge', emerged from the toilets. He froze as he spotted Hanzo and the silhouettes of the slain bodies lying in deformed positions in the middle of the hallway. He raised a sheepish hand over his neck. "Sorry," he stammered. "I was only gone for five minutes."

Idiot. Hanzo delivered a command with a stern grunt. "Clean this place up. It's bad enough that you left your station. You're on night shifts for the rest of the month."

Daniel pouted as he kicked one of the bodies. "But I just got off night shifts!"

"If you don't like the consequences, then stop taking long bathroom breaks." Hanzo diverted his attention toward the suited woman huddled on the floor, now bleeding over his imported marble tiles. She was causing a mess.

Daniel called for assistance on his walkie-talkie without Hanzo having to ask. "Hello, we need a clean-up in aisle one."

Within seconds, two of Hanzo's soldiers arrived to help clear the scene, while a third diverted foot traffic toward the opposite staircase. Hanzo focused his attention on the woman huddled below him. But what about her? He had never seen her here before.

His katana hovered mere inches from her jugular. "Who are you?"

The woman opened her mouth to speak, but only managed a quiet squeak. Honestly. He didn't have time for this!

"Talk!" He demanded. "Now!"

"Okay! I'm sorry!" She replied, both hands still protectively raised over her face. "My name is Jessamae Suarez. I'm a psychologist at the Family Health Centre."

"Why are these men after you?" Hanzo asked.

"It was just a bad date! I swear! That guy, he tried to kill me!" She lowered her arms and clenched her fists in anger, her lips pouting and turned downwards. "Nomer! That no good, two-bit liar!"

She darted her attention to the bodies, and her shoulders fell. "I guess he got away."

Hanzo scoffed. A date? At midnight on a Tuesday? Who wears a business suit to a date? He withheld the compulsion to snort back laughter. Hell, maybe she was sleeping with the Russian mob. He shook his head. Now, that would be a right waste.

"Prove it," he lowered the blade an inch. "Show me some ID."

"I can't. It was in my briefcase. And....that's probably in the middle of the ocean by now."

She retrieved her phone but it was clear it was water damaged. "Oh man. "She tried it, but it remained lifeless. "Eeesh, Grandpa is gonna flip out!"

Hanzo sneered, annoyed about the new ache forming in his groin. "Look, lady, I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in."

"Are you gonna kill me?" She suddenly asked. Taken off guard, he found himself shaking his head. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Alright, good," she said and abruptly stood. "I have to call the police-get help."

She evaded the blood splatters as she hobbled on one foot, pacing briskly, her red-tinged lips pursed together, fingers woven behind her, eyebrows furrowed as she concentrated like Einstein formulating his next big equation.

For some strange and unknown reason, the action made his body react in his leather pants. He lowered his katana and sheathed it behind his back.

"The police will know what to do. If they're hurting other women..."

He raised a hand to silence her. "No way. No cops." He considered the situation and turned to Daniel. "Call Eman. Tell him to run a background check."

Jessamae willingly shared her personal information; her chin turned up in defiance against his disbelief for the entire duration. "I'm telling the truth. I have nothing to hide."

He met her gaze - dead on. "I'll know soon enough, won't I?"

Jessamae hobbled past him, her foot still leaving smears and bloody streaks over the pristine tiles. He rolled his eyes and gestured her upstairs. "Come on, we'd better take care of that foot before you damage something irreplaceable."

"What's your name?" She asked as she followed, her attention burning into the back of him. "What do I call you?"

The strangest tingle erupted in the pit of his stomach. This feeling, he surmised, was a warning. This woman. She was too smart for her own good. And if he didn't tread lightly, she was going to get him killed.

"Hanzo," he offered apathetically as they climbed the stairs to the third floor. "Hanzo Yamada."