Heal or Kill the Mafia Boss

Jenkins

I pace nervously back and forth across the room. It’s been over four hours since they locked me in here, and I haven’t seen any of Zeldric’s men since—much less him. Who would’ve thought… I couldn’t be kidnapped by just any criminal gang, no. I had to end up with the most violent one.

The Z Clan has been operating in the city for years, and the only thing known about them is that they leave a trail of blood and death wherever they go.

Well, now I know something more.

Where they live, the names of several of their key members—who, from what I’ve gathered, seem to be the most important ones—and the most interesting part: I know what Zeldric looks like. And I have to admit, I never would’ve imagined him like that.

When I think of the leader of a criminal organization, what comes to mind is a middle-aged man with a prominent belly, wearing a flat-brimmed hat to hide his receding hairline. Never, not even in my most twisted dreams, did I imagine that Zeldric would be this attractive.

I don’t know if it’s his black hair matching his dark eyes or the tattoos peeking from under his shirt up to the side of his neck. They also cover his forearms. Or maybe it’s the short beard. It gives him a rugged, reckless look, along with the hoop earring in his left ear and the thick chain around his neck. I’m not sure if it’s any one thing in particular or the entire package, but what I do know is that with that face and that body, he could turn even the most devout woman into a sinner.

I sit on the edge of the bed and yawn. Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see that dawn isn’t far off—I feel exhausted.

At least I managed to wash my hands in the en-suite bathroom, and I also got rid of my blood-soaked shirt. Now I’m only wearing a tank top and my pants. I let my hair down and massage my scalp to relieve some tension.

I have to find a way out of here before that criminal changes his mind and decides to put a bullet in my head.

The door to the room opens, and just as I was thinking about him, the man himself steps inside. He’s still wearing the same clothes and carrying a folder in his hands. He stops in the center of the bedroom, right over the thick, light-colored wool rug, and fixes his gaze on me. He tilts his head slightly, and the smirk that curls his lips is one that invites all kinds of sinful thoughts.

"Mía Jenkins," he murmurs after opening the folder.

I stand up, inhaling deeply before exhaling slowly.

I suppose he took so long to come because he was gathering information about me.

I could’ve given him a fake name when he asked. Anyone else would have.

In situations like this, our greatest weakness is always our loved ones. People tend to obey orders out of fear of putting their families in danger.

Well, I am alone, so there’s nothing he can use to blackmail me.

"All this time, and that’s all you’ve managed to find out? I’m disappointed," I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

I don’t miss the way Zeldric’s gaze drops straight to my cleavage.

It lasts only a few seconds before he looks back at my face.

"I know a few other things," he continues walking until there’s barely a meter of space between us, then stops to keep reading. "Sergeant Mía Jenkins, thirty-two years old. Served as a combat medic in the Army. Deployed twice to Afghanistan. In total, six years and three days on the front lines. You left a couple of years ago, right after the President himself awarded you the Medal of Honor for saving the lives of seven of your comrades."

He looks at me again, smirking.

"You single-handedly took down over twenty armed enemies and got your unit members to safety."

"Only the ones who were still alive," I add, just to irritate him, lifting my chin in defiance.

Zeldric narrows his eyes at me.

"Are you thinking about ways to kill me, Mía?" he asks, dragging out my name.

I drop my arms and shrug.

"Jenkins," I correct him.

He ignores me and takes another step forward.

My instincts tell me to move back, but I decide to stay put and face him.

If he’s going to kill me, he’ll do it anyway.

"I think we can save the part about your father, the general, for another time, don’t you?" He closes the folder and tucks it under his arm.

For the first time, I notice his left wrist. He wears some kind of rosary as a bracelet.

Immediately, I lift my gaze and catch him smirking again.

"What’s going to happen to me?" I ask.

"I’ve been asking myself that same question for the past few hours, Mía."

I grit my teeth, but this time, I don’t correct him. He’ll keep calling me whatever the hell he wants.

Zeldric is one of those men—men who don’t accept a "no" for an answer.

"I gave you my word, so I can’t kill you. But letting you go isn’t an option either. Tell me, what do you think I should do with you?"

"I don’t know, but if I were you, I’d make a decision soon. I’m running out of patience being locked up in here."

He flashes another smile, and I don’t even flinch when he takes another step toward me.

His nose is so close to mine that with the slightest movement, they could touch.

Zeldric tilts his head and fixes his gaze on my lips before inhaling deeply through his nose.

"You smell delicious, Mía. Too delicious for your own good."

I force myself to swallow without breaking my composure.

I don’t know what it is about this man that makes me nervous, but I cannot let it show—that would be my downfall.

"And that’s after not showering since yesterday," I mutter, clicking my tongue in mock disdain.

Zeldric chuckles quietly and steps back a couple of paces, his gaze never leaving me.

"My men are pissed about that little stunt you pulled in the game room with the gun. So I suggest you don’t leave this room for now. Gambo and Oscar will be the only ones allowed access. One of them will bring you food and clean clothes soon."

He tugs at the collar of his white shirt.

"You can shower and get some rest for a few hours. By mid-morning, they’ll come to get you so you can check on my brother and the other injured men."

"So I am a prisoner?" I hiss through clenched teeth.

Zeldric glances around the bedroom and shrugs.

"I’ve seen worse cells than this, but if that’s how you want to see it, I won’t argue," he says before turning to leave.

"Sweet dreams, Mía," he murmurs before stepping out of the room.

I take a deep breath at the sound of the lock turning from the other side.

Sitting back down on the edge of the bed, I close my eyes and run my hands over my face.

I’m so fucked.

I don’t expect anyone to find me here.

The ambulance has a GPS system, but I’m not naive enough to think they haven’t already gotten rid of it.

If I want to get out of here alive, I’ll probably have to break my promise.

"You won’t kill again," the words echo in my head.

I try, I really do.

But that infuriatingly attractive crime lord isn’t making it easy.