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  Chapter Two

  Gavriil watched in silence as Anthony and Roberto’s bodies were loaded into the back of the coroner’s van. Two men who had as much to do with raising him as John had. The only one that was missing was Falcone, their driver. As far as Gavriil was concerned, if the man wasn’t lying here dead next to the others, then he was in on it. There was no other answer for it. Only Gavriil and those who were with John knew about his trip into the Fulton River district tonight. And this alley was off the approved route, which meant Falcone had detoured deliberately.

  From the bullets scattered around the car and the corresponding bullet holes in the south wall of the abandoned warehouse, Gavriil knew that Battaglia’s men had come at them from that direction, and Anthony and Roberto had held them off as long as they could. They gave John enough time to get out through the back of the alley. The men who attacked would have gone after him as soon as they realized he was not in the car.

  But where the hell was John now?

  His phone rang and when he pulled it from his jacket pocket he frowned at the unknown number, before swiping his finger across the screen to connect the call.

  “Speak.”

  There was a pause at the other end of the phone. “Is that how you always answer your phone?” a woman asked in a soft tone, her voice a sinful, angelic mixture of fire and innocence that had his body reacting in a purely male way.

  “Actually, yes, it is. Who am I speaking to?” Tell me your name, moy angil.

  “Um, I’m not sure if I should tell you that.”

  “Can you tell me why you called me, or even better yet, who gave you my phone number?”

  “Actually, the man who gave me your number has just passed out and I think you’d better come get him.”

  John.

  He signaled his men, leaving three of them at the scene and moving with Gino toward his truck.

  “Where are you, moy angil?” the endearment slipped from his lips before he could stop it, and as soon as it did he was stunned at how right it felt.

  “He came through the back door of my bakery and coffee shop over on Lake Street. It’s called Holy Cannoli. I’ll leave the light on at the back of the store. You’ll have to come in that way. Oh, and—”

  Gavriil thought he heard her take in a shuddering breath, as if she were afraid. “What, moy angil? Tell me what it is that scares you so.”

  “There were men here moments ago, with weapons, and d-dogs.”

  Gavriil tightened his hand into a fist, fighting the urge to ram it through the passenger window of his truck as he climbed in. Angelo Battaglia again. Had to be.

  “Be calm,” Gavriil said in a voice he hoped sounded reassuring and not as bloodthirsty as he felt. “I will be there shortly.” He disconnected the call and gave directions to Gino who drove like a bat out of hell.

  As they went, Gavriil sent a text calling for a medical team to meet them at the bakery. If John had willingly given her Gavriil’s phone number, then he was in trouble. The truck slid to a stop in the alley behind a few stores that lined a block of Lake Street. Gavriil was out before it had come to a full stop, gun in his hand, and he cast his gaze around the alley as he made his way to the back of the store.

  He knocked gently, not wanting to scare the woman inside. After a few moments, he heard the security chain of the door disengaging and the door opened. He slid inside before the door was completely open and he caught the thick scent of coffee and the gasp of the beautiful woman who stepped quickly back out of his reach.

  My God, she was beautiful. Her voice, as beautiful, exotic, and angelic as it was, simply did not do justice for the vision that stood before him. She was at least a foot shorter than his six foot six, with long, dark brown hair that fell in that alluring way around her face that had a man’s hands itching to bury his fingers into the thick tresses. Her face was symbolic of the nickname he had inadvertently given her. Big, soulful brown eyes, surrounded by long, dark lashes, light olive skin and full, perfectly kissable lips.

  “Hey, moy angil,” Gavriil said in a calm tone, cognizant that she was very much in flight or fight mode. “It’s me, Gavriil.”

  His angel nodded jerkily, her hands wringing in front of her, a clear sign of her nerves. “He’s there on the floor. I wanted to lift him to make him comfortable, but he’s too big.”

  Gino came through the door at that moment, and the woman took another step backwards.

  “Jesus, what the fuck is all this shit over the floor?” Gino asked as he stepped on the coffee grounds.

  “Coffee grounds,” the woman said in a small voice.

  “To cover John’s scent,” Gavriil realized and nodded. “Very clever. It would have driven Angelo’s dog crazy.”

  The woman nodded and pointed to his left. When he turned he saw John keeled sideways on the floor.

  “Blyat, John,” he moved swiftly to the man he’d worked with for the past fifteen years and reached for his pulse points. He heaved a sigh of relief when he felt a thump against his fingertips. Sure, it was erratic, but he’d take it over nothing any day.

  “Gino, go out and signal the medical team.” Gavriil moved John so that he was lying completely prone. “They’ll be coming in hot and loaded, so make sure they know it’s you.”

  Gino nodded then left the room, but not before he shot another look of undisguised interest and desire at Gavriil’s woman. He didn’t know when she became his, but he figured it was as soon as he heard her talk. Either way, she was his.

  “She’s mine, Gino, take your damn eyes off her,” Gavriil snapped in Italian, reveling in the other man’s wince of discomfort. “Look at her like that again and I will gut you.”

  Gino nodded then stepped out into the alley. He pulled John’s jacket to the side and saw that she had placed wads of what looked like clean tea towels against the bleeding gunshot wounds and taped them down with packaging tape for pressure. John would live, and it would be because of this diminutive woman in front of him.

  “You saved his life, you know,” Gavriil said as he looked up at his angel.

  She shrugged as if embarrassed by the praise. “Maybe.”

  The sound of a vehicle pulling to an abrupt halt outside startled her and she moved even further from the door. Within minutes the medical team had John locked and loaded in their vehicle and he was being whisked away for treatment.

  He turned to face his angel. “Please,” his tone almost pleading. “Tell me your name.”

  His angel nibbled on her bottom lip, no doubt deliberating whether to tell him or not, but the move had him thinking that he’d like the chance to do some nibbling of his own.

  He waited, not wanting to scare her more than he already did. He had given up hope of getting an answer when she whispered, “Abigail. My name is Abigail Hartman.”

  ****

  Abigail had no idea why she told the truth to the huge man who scared her as much as he intrigued her. When she saw the way his face softened, and a small smile cross his handsome face she was pleased that she had.

  “Abigail,” he repeated and the way her name sounded from his lips had her inhaling sharply. “Thank you, moy angil.”

  The two of them stood staring at each other for a long moment and Abigail was once again struck by how handsome he was. He wore a dark suit with no tie; his black hair was short at the back and sides, but longer on top. He had piercingly dark eyes, and the carefully maintained stubble around his face gave him a look that was both dangerous and sexy at the same time. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, and she found herself wondering what he might look like with his shirt off.

  “You’ve gone a lovely shade of pink, Abigail,” Gavriil said in teasing tone. “It makes me very curious as to what just crossed your mind.” He arched a brow in question, but Abigail dropped her gaze and shook her head, her face flamed even hotter. “Then I can only assume your thoughts run similar to my own.”

  Abigail doubted that. She gasped when he slid a finger beneath
her chin and lifted her gaze to his. He had moved so silently she hadn’t even been aware of it.

  “Don’t look away from me, moy angil,” Gavriil whispered, and she could feel his breath against her lips. Her heart began to race as she lost herself in his eyes. “You have the most expressive face. If you look away from me for even a second, I fear I will miss something that you are not yet willing to tell me.”

  He had come dangerously close to voicing something she was quickly becoming frightened of herself. He could see way too much about her than she was willing to share with anyone.

  “Gavriil!” Gino called out, and she pulled back from his hand as he cursed in what she thought might be Russian.

  “What is it?”

  “Carlos and his team are calling for vengeance. If the Carlisi family moves on the Battaglias now without the approval of the syndicate, there will be trouble.”

  Abigail’s mouth dropped open. She had begun to suspect that the man who had fallen injured into her kitchen was part of an organized crime group. It was hard not to come to that conclusion given everything that had taken place in the past hour. But to have it confirmed, and to learn that she had somehow fallen into an age-old vendetta between two warring families of a crime syndicate here in Chicago, was more than she had anticipated.

  Gavriil’s sigh brought her out of her panicked thoughts. “Now I am fairly certain I know what your thoughts are, but I am equally as certain I do not want you to voice them.”

  Gavriil leaned in to press a lingering kiss to her temple, and Abigail’s heart took off, beating so fast she was sure a heart attack was imminent. “I need to go and take care of this. I will be back as soon as I can.”

  With that he turned and left Abigail standing in her small kitchen, surrounded by coffee grounds, blood, and a mess that would take days to clean. Her world had taken a turn in a direction she had not been prepared for. If Gavriil was a trusted confidant of John “Poppa John” Carlisi, a man she knew about from reputation and a multitude of stories in the newspaper about the man’s exploits, then he was a very dangerous man to know, and he was promising her he would be back as soon as he could?

  Abigail released a breath she hadn’t even known she’d been holding and pressed the palm of her hand against her beating heart. “Well, mama, this is certainly one hell of a mess I’ve gotten myself into.”

  Abigail didn’t know what was worse. That a highly-ranked member of a mafia crime family had been in her home and now knew where she lived, or the fact she was desperately looking forward to him coming back.

  Chapter Three

  “Where is the girl?”

  Gavriil stopped walking and stared at his boss. He’d only just finished dealing with Carlo and his team of impulsive, trigger-happy assholes when he got the call that John had come to. Now, John was sitting up in the hospital bed they had equipped the infirmary’s recovery rooms with his wife Sofia in the chair beside him. Despite looking pale, gray, and extremely tired, his eyes were sharp and alert.

  “What girl?” Gavriil asked.

  “The baker. The one who saved my life.”

  Gavriil smiled at the memory of the pint-sized woman who had more than held her own when large, armed men stormed her small bakery kitchen.

  “Well, would you look at that?” Sofia’s voice held a funny tone, and when Gavriil shifted his gaze to look at her he was surprised to see her grinning at him like he’d done something good.

  “Look at what?”

  “You, Gavriil, my sweet boy,” Sofia said as she stood up to walk around the bed and wrap him in her arms, that sugary-sweet smile still on her face. Gavriil frowned in confusion and shot a quick look at John, but if he was hoping for any help there he was shit out of luck. John had a grin much like his wife’s on his face.

  “I have to meet this baker, I think,” Sofia said as she moved back to her husband’s bedside and took his hand in hers. “Not only has she been on my husband's mind since the moment he came out of the anesthetic, but from the look on your handsome face at the mere mention of her, I think she must be something very special.”

  “She is special,” Gavriil answered. “She handled the situation last night with dignity and grace, and she certainly didn’t panic. And when you take into account she was faced with a man bleeding on her kitchen floor and Angelo Battaglia in the alley behind her shop, that’s saying something.”

  Gavriil frowned over at John who was shaking his head.

  “There is more to it than that,” John’s voice held a serious tone to it that had Gavriil tensing. “When she stepped into that kitchen, I pointed a gun at her.”

  “What the hell for?” Gavriil growled. “She’s five foot six and a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet. Why the hell would you think she was a threat?”

  John gave him a pointed look. “I had just been shot. Twice. Two of my friends slaughtered in front of me, so forgive me if I was running on little more than adrenaline.” Gavriil understood that, but it still irked him that his woman had a loaded weapon pointed at her. “But despite it, that woman—”

  “Abigail,” Gavriil informed them, not liking her being referred to as that woman.

  John inclined his head. “Abigail didn’t back down and other than an initial burst of surprise, she showed no real fear, at least not in that moment.”

  Gavriil didn’t like the way John worded that. “But she did at some point while you were there?”

  “She didn’t just hide from the men out in the alley. She threw coffee grounds at me to mask the scent of my blood. I didn’t realize why at first, again I’m blaming the blood loss, but she used it for that and to hide the blood smears I had left behind. Angelo came to the door and demanded that she open it. She did, and his big ass dog, Titan, pushed through, growling and snarling, and that little woman began to shake so damn badly I could hear it in her damn voice, even as she dealt with that figlio di puttana. The only time she showed true fear was when she was faced with that animal.”

  A sudden thought came to him. “So she spoke with Angelo? He saw her?”

  John nodded, frowning back at him. “Yes, why?”

  Gavriil cursed fluidly in Russian as he pulled his phone from his pocket. “Because she is exactly the type of woman Angelo would want for himself. The fact that he can scare her shitless is fucking foreplay for that bastard.”

  Just as he was about to put a call into Gino, whom he’d left behind to watch Abigail’s place, it rang in his hand. When the caller ID read Gino’s name his heart stuttered in his chest.

  “Speak.”

  “Gavriil, you better get down here quick, your woman’s shop is on fire!”

  ****

  Abigail felt numb.

  She couldn’t register anything or anyone around her. All she could see was her life burning down before her eyes. All she could hear was the roar of the fire that had boomed to life in her kitchen so fiercely, it drove her and her only customer out of the shop so fast the only thing she had managed to grab was the photo of her mom and nonna.

  “You okay, ma’am?”

  Abigail turned to blink at the man beside her. Gino had come with Gavriil the night before to take John Carlisi out of her kitchen. She had spotted him standing across the street for most of the morning, and had signaled him to come across for coffee and something to eat. She had been surprised when he said yes. He had been in the front with her, working his way through the baked goods she’d had in her cabinet. She had been laughing at the sounds of pleasure he’d been making as he consumed one of her pecan caramel cannolis when the fire started.

  “Physically? Yes.” She whispered returning her gaze to her store, now completely ablaze in front of her. “Emotionally? Not so much.”

  Gino winced as the top of the building collapsed in on itself, sending a plume of sparks into the air. “I’m sorry we couldn’t get any more of your stuff out.”

  Abigail sighed, reaching out to pat him on his arm. “We got out, Gino. That’s all that matters.”


  The sound of tires squealing on tarmac as a car ground to a halt from a hefty speed took her attention away from the fire and to the road behind her. A man stepped from a large black truck with tinted windows while the vehicle was still rocking from the sudden stop.

  Abigail’s heart thudded in her chest when Gavriil stepped up onto the curb, pausing as he stared out over the crowd in front of the store. When his gaze locked with hers, she made a sound of pure need. He walked straight toward her. When he reached her, he pulled her up and into his arms, and with a sob she threw her arms around his neck, complete with photo frame.

  Gavriil pressed his face into her neck, heaved a large sigh and held her tight while she cried. She had no idea how long he held her, feet dangling high above the footpath, rocking her gently from side to side, but he did nothing but let her cry.

  “I’m here, moy angil,” he murmured when she quieted. “I’ve got you now. You’ll be okay.”

  Abigail took a deep breath, inhaling the woodsy scent of him deep into her lungs, before pulling back so she could look into his face. “My sh-shop burned down.”

  Gavriil nodded solemnly. “It did.”

  “They think it was a gas explosion. But I don’t even have gas connected.”

  Gavriil sighed. “They’ll find out the real cause soon, Abigail. For now, why don’t we get you somewhere safe where you can rest and process all of this?”

  A sudden thought brought more tears to her eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go. That was my home.”

  Gavriil smiled, leaning in to press his forehead to hers and held her gaze. “As crazy as this sounds, moy angil, will you trust me to look after you?”

  Abigail swallowed the lump of emotion that had formed in her throat. When her mom and nonna were taken from her six years ago, she thought she’d lost the chance to have anyone look after her. Having Gavriil ask for that opportunity now had her understanding just how much she had missed having someone she could rely on.