Credited To The Mafia Lord

HAILEY

After getting ready for work, I leave my apartment. I’ve just walked around the corner when I hear, “Hailey.”

My feet come to a faltering halt, and my breaths speed up.

“Can we talk? It won’t take long,” Carson says, and I savor the sound of his voice.

God, I’ve missed it so much.

Slowly I turn around, and then my eyes widen. He looks totally different. His hair is no longer blond, but dark brown, which I guess is his natural color. I loved the blond, but the darker color makes him look way hotter.

He’s wearing a pair of dark blue jeans that sit just right on him. A white t-shirt and a black leather jacket round off the look. There’s no jewelry except for the tag hanging from a chain around his neck.

He got a new tracking device. It matches mine.

My eyes lift to his. I’ve started to forget how intense Carson’s gaze is, and it makes shivers rush over my skin.

With an erratic heartbeat, I finally manage to whisper, “Hey.”

He takes a step closer to me, then stops. He gets right to the point as he says, “I’ve arranged personal protection for you. I’ll have to return to work at some point and need to

know you’ll be safe when I’m not around. Will you consider it?”

What? It’s the last thing I expected him to say, and I’m a little disappointed.

What did you expect, Hailey? Hearts and flowers? You

told him it’s over between you. That’s what you want, so don’t make this something it’s not.

I shake my head. “Have a guy I don’t know follow me around like a shadow? No thanks.”

“MJ,” Carson calls out, and then I see an Asian woman coming out of a nearby alley. She’s easily a head shorter than me and much smaller. Wearing jeans and a t-shirt, with sneakers, she looks younger than me.

Not what I expected when Carson said personal

protection.

“This is MJ Fang. She’s trained and will be able to keep you safe. Maybe you can even be friends,” Carson says, giving me a hopeful look.

MJ moves closer, her lips curving into a friendly smile. “Hi, Hailey. It’s good to meet you.”

When she holds out her hand to me, I take it while murmuring, “Hey.”

“I’ll guard you with my life,” she assures me.

I pull an unsure face. “You don’t look like a guard.”

“That’s the idea. I want you to be comfortable with your Custodian,” Carson says.

“Custodian?” I ask, not understanding the term.

“Like Demitri is to Alexei. MJ received the same training as him at St. Monarch’s,” he explains. “Are you okay with this arrangement?”

My eyes go back to MJ. She doesn’t look like a threat at all. I suppose that’s a good thing.

Also, Carson could’ve kept this from me, but he didn’t. “If I agree, how will this work?” I ask.

“Just think of me as a friend. I’ll be close at all times but won’t get in your way,” MJ answers.

“What about when I’m working? Are you going to sit and drink coffee all day long?”

“Maybe not coffee,” she jokes.

She’s not awkward, and honestly, I could use a friend… but… “Have you killed anyone?” I ask MJ.

She shakes her head. “But I will if your life depends on it.”

I take a deep breath, my eyes darting between MJ and Carson before they lock with his. I see the heartache, the hope… the man I love.

“We can try it for a couple of days,” I agree.

“Thank you.” The corner of Carson’s mouth lifts, and it makes my own lips slowly curve up.

We stare at each other for a moment, the lost love a chasm between us.

“You look good,” he murmurs.

MJ walks past me and down the road, giving us privacy.

“You look different,” I say. My smile grows. “In a good way.” I let out an awkward chuckle.

Hot as hell but just as dangerous as always. Nothing’s changed there.

I gesture over my shoulder. “I have to get to work.”

Carson’s eyes don’t leave mine as he nods. Then he asks, “You sure you’re okay?”

“With MJ? We’ll see. It will take time,” I reply.

He shakes his head and takes a step closer to me. “I mean with everything that happened. I’m here if you need to talk.”

“I wish I could talk to you, but I can’t… not about us. Not yet.”

“If you need anything, let me know,” he says, a pleading expression flashing across his features.

In a moment of weakness, I whisper, “A hug. I could really do with a hug right now.”

Carson doesn’t hesitate, and as his arms wrap around me, the world turns from its upside-down position. For a moment, everything feels right.

I wrap my arms around his waist and press my face to his chest. I take a deep breath of him, and for a couple of seconds, I allow my love for him to shimmer through the cracks in my heart before I pull back and walk away.

Because if I don’t, I’ll hold onto him forever.

The heartache is just as intense as when I left Saint Luc. It will never fade, because I’ll always love him.

The realization hits hard, and I wrap my arms around my waist, clenching my jaw and doing my best to blink back the tears.

MJ falls into step next to me, and when the first tear escapes, she wraps an arm around my waist and guides me into an empty alley. This woman, who’s a stranger, wraps her arms around me, and needing the comfort so desperately, I cry against her shoulder.

“Take your time,” she whispers.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed that I broke down so quickly from seeing Carson.

MJ pulls back and smiles at me. “Never apologize to me. I want you to be comfortable with me. Consider me your friend. Nothing you say will be relayed to Carson. I’m loyal to you. Only you.”

I look at her as I wipe the tear tracks from my cheeks. “Okay. I just need time to get used to you.”

“We’ll move at whatever pace you’re comfortable with.” She rubs my shoulder, then nods at the main road.

“You’re going to be late for work.”

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm myself, then say, “Your first coffee is on me.

“Make that tea. I’m not a coffee drinker.”

I let out a forced chuckle. “You’re missing out.”

We begin to walk toward the restaurant, and glancing over my shoulder, I search for Carson, but he’s nowhere in sight… as if I imagined him.

My eyes turn to MJ.

No, I didn’t. I really got to hug him.

CARSON

The hug I got from Hailey’s been feeding my soul for the past month. It was nothing but a crumb, and it’s only prolonging the torture.

From a yacht, I watch as Hailey and MJ take the steep steps down to the cave of Odysseus, who’s a local myth. They’re on a day trip to Mljet, a small Croatian island. It looks quiet and peaceful.

With MJ now protecting Hailey, I have to be more careful because MJ will pick up on a tail much quicker than Hailey would.

Through binoculars, I watch as they step out of their shorts and t-shirts. My eyes are locked on Hailey as she dives into the water, the sight breathtaking.

My phone vibrates, and setting down the binoculars, I pull the device from my pocket and unlock the screen.

Contract: Thomas Debrov

Business: Arms / Drugs / Human trafficking Time: 1 Week

Location: Egypt

Fee: 7 500 000. 00

Letting out a sigh, I reply.

Contract on Thomas Debrov: Accept

Time to get back to work.

My phone buzzes as more information about the contract comes through.

I skim over the photo of Debrov and his personal details, and then I tuck the phone back in my pocket and start the yacht’s engine. Leaving Hailey in MJ’s care, I steer the boat toward the mainland.

Docking the yacht, I climb off and walk to my car. I’ve finally bought a property, but the house is mostly empty. I’ve placed an order with a contractor to build an armory for me. It will take a couple of weeks, though.

I hate it. Slowly life is inching along, the distance between Hailey and me stretching further apart.

I feel the same about Africa as South America. It’s overcrowded, making my skin constantly crawl.

Crouching by a low wall of a parking area across the road from the dilapidated building Debrov’s office is in, I do a recon to plan the actual shot.

Through the scope of my rifle, I watch as his men line up three young African girls. The one looks nothing over thirteen. They look fucking terrified.

My finger tightens on the trigger as I move my sight from man to man.

“Blyad’,” I mutter as I look at the girls again.

Debrov walks into the office, and he goes straight for the youngest girl. He grabs hold of her chin, turning her face from side to side, and then he nods his approval.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Making a rash decision to help the girls, I get up and take the rifle apart. After putting it away and shrugging the backpack on, I grab hold of the low wall and jump over the side.

Landing in a crouching position, pain shoots up my legs from the drop. I ignore it and run toward the entrance. There’s zero security in the rundown lobby, and I take the stairs to the third floor. I pull my guns from behind my back, the Heckler & Koch in my right hand, and the Glock in my left.

Exiting the stairwell, I cautiously move down the hallway. I can hear them speaking Bulgarian as I get close to the partially open door.

They’re getting the girls ready to ship them to Saudi Arabia and South America.

I take a deep breath, and moving fast, I enter the room. I take the first man out with the Glock and the second with the Heckler & Koch. As Debrov reaches for his weapon, I fire three bullets into his chest.

Walking closer, I look down at him. “Svoloch’,” I spit at him and then shoot him in the head. Scum.

The girls don’t scream. They just stand frozen, probably already traumatized out of their minds.

“Run,” I bark.

The youngest begins to cry while the older two do as I say. She’s too scared to move, and close up, she looks ten, at the most eleven years old.

I don’t have time, and tucking the Glock behind my back, I grab hold of her hand. Leaving the office, I drag her behind me.

I’m on high alert and rush down the stairs. I don’t see the other two girls until I step out of the building. They’re running toward the main road. Good.

I hurry to where I’ve parked the car and bundle the little girl into the passenger’s seat. I strap the seat belt over her and then slam the door shut.

I shrug my backpack off, and once I’m behind the steering wheel, I shove it down by her feet. Starting the engine, I pull away, and hoping she speaks English, I ask, “What’s your name?”

“D-D-Dimpo.” Glancing at her face, I only see snot and tears.

“Where are you from? Where’s home?” “M-Malawi,” she stammers.

Fuck. I don’t have contacts in Malawi.

I pull my phone out and dial Alexei’s number. “Yes?” he answers.

“Do you have contacts in Malawi?”

“Yes. George Lekgari. I’ll send you his number.” “Thanks.”

“You okay?” he asks. “Yes.”

We end the call, and seconds later, Alexei sends me Lekgari’s details.

While I drive to where my private jet is waiting, I call Lekgari and arrange for him to come to Egypt to get the kid. I give the airfield’s coordinates where I’ll be waiting.

I keep checking for any tails I might have picked up, but there’s just the usual traffic. When I steer us away from the city, I let out a breath of relief.

I hope the older two girls find someone who can help

them.

Reaching the airfield, I park the car. I get Dimpo from the passenger side and say, “Come.”© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

She nods and sticks to my leg as we walk toward Omar, who gives me a questioning look seeing as I’m a couple of days early.

I remove the envelope with the fee he charged from my backpack and hand it to him. When his eyes go to Dimpo, I say, “We need to lay low for eight hours. You never saw the kid.”

He tilts his head. “That will be another hundred K.” Yanking my phone out, I make the payment.

When he receives the funds, he asks, “Are you leaving tonight?”

“Yes.”

He nods at my private jet. “I’ll get your plane ready. You can use my office.”

When Omar walks to the plane, I turn to Dimpo. Her eyes are wide on me. “A friend of mine will come to get you. He’ll take you home.”

She nods, using the back of her hand to wipe under her nose.

I place my hand on her shoulder and give it a squeeze. “You’ll be okay.”

She nods again, lost sobs fluttering from her. Opening my phone’s screen, I send the text. Contract on Thomas Debrov: Closed

I also send a message to the pilot to get his ass to the airfield. My eyes go back to Dimpo, and she asks, “Are you a good man?”

No kid. No, I’m not.

Crouching next to her, I say, “I’m a friend.” “I really get to go home?”

Tilting my head, I nod, then I ask, “Do you have parents?”

“A mother.”

“You’ll see her soon. Okay?”

And I’ll see Hailey.