Stolen from the Hitman: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance by Alexis Abbott, Alex Abbott Page B

that this address is where the Bratva established a base of operations to run their human trafficking ring here in France.”
    Felix paled as we turned onto Rue Alfred de Vigny, and he licked his lips nervously. “B-but that’s impossible,” he stammers, “the Russian mob hasn’t had a sex slave ring in Paris for years — I mean, I keep an ear out for this kind of thing, just for safety’s sake and all.” He looks uneasy, but I don’t bother casting him a glare. I know I’m not the only person Felix has been helping from among the Parisian underworld’s denizens. He’s a pencil-neck and a coward, but he’s not a particularly predictable man, and he knows his skills are valuable to those willing to pay the right price. Despite his close calls with death in the past.
    “Police databases have some kind of files on every ring that’s active in Paris, and they’ve got agents deep undercover, but there’s nothing on a Bratva slave ring based out of Paris. I’m sure they’ve been inactive here for ages.” He pulls up a few more spreadsheets, scrolling through them while chewing his lip. “Right, see here, it says there was some kind of internal coup that ended the trafficking activity from within a few years ago. The slave ring’s ended, Max.”
    “You’re right,” I say as we pull up at that old, familiar building, and I gaze up at the faded stone. “Because I’m the one who ended it.”
    I turn off the car and step out, Felix fumbling to put his laptop away as he unbuckles his seatbelt and staggers out of the car, now casting nervous glances up at the building before us. The sky is overcast, gray clouds rolling overhead very quickly as wind blows above us. Felix follows me to the back of the car, where I pop the trunk.
    “Well,” Felix says, wringing his hands, “okay, so if we know she’s here, and you think...well, what you think, then shouldn’t we call the police and have them investi-”
    “No,” I snap, whirling around to look the man in the eye, my expression stony. “Felix, these girls are my responsibility — mine . It was me who took them from the comfort of their hometowns to come train in Paris. It was me who offered them everything when they never thought they’d get the chance to glimpse this thorny flower of a city. It was me in whom they put all their trust to guide them as they tried to make their homes here for the next few years. And it was me who saw the unbridled potential in them to be something more than they or their parents or their old teachers ever could have begun to imagine,” I say, and I mean every word of it.
    Felix looks hesitant, but nods slowly as he watches the determination burn bright in my eyes. “You must have a lot of respect for these girls.”
    “Far more than they know,” I say, looking at the ominous doors of the apartment building. “I was harsh on them. I had to be. But there’s something special about them that I want to see realized.” About Liv , I want to add especially, but every one of them has untapped passion. “But that’s not the only reason this is my battle to fight,” I say as I reach into the trunk and move a panel aside, revealing a false bottom.
    “I thought I’d put a permanent end to the Bratva’s human trafficking days.”
    Felix’s eyes widen as I pull a couple of silenced pistols out of the trunk’s false bottom, followed by a set of knives I start strapping to my legs. “I thought that part of my life was gone entirely. If I was mistaken…”
    I take out some ammunition and load up the pistols, strapping a pair of spares to my waist under my jacket as Felix looks around the empty street nervously.
    “Then things are going to get ugly,” I finish, loading my pistols. “These Russians are Bratva. They’re ruthless, they’re dedicated, and they have no qualms delving into the deepest depravities imaginable to man. If the girls are in their possession, they won’t give them up without a fight, and they’re