Owned by the Hitman

Chapter 5: Katy

"Katy, darling! How good to see you again!"

The three burly Russians who muscle their way into my home are Oskar, Nic, and Konrad, the mob's collections agents assigned to me. I scramble back, wide-eyed and heart pounding as they advance into the room, Nic taking a post by the door while the other two fan out and survey the place.

Oskar is the leader of the group, and he usually does all the talking. He's a shorter guy with blonde hair and a beard, and he's as insipid to listen to as he is to look at. He's not the most muscular of the three, but he's got the sharpest tongue by far.

Nic is the quiet muscle. He's a monstrous brute of a man, all muscle and stony eyes. I've never heard him say more than a couple of words, but he doesn't need to say much that his muscles don't say for him. He has cropped dark hair and a scar across his face.

Konrad is somewhere in between the other two, and he sends chills down my spine. He's tall and lean with light brown hair and a crooked nose, and he always looks at me with an unnerving hunger in his eyes. His tendency to move suddenly and make jerking glances when he's around me all tell me he wants me, badly. He doesn't seem to like taking orders from Oskar, but I know Oskar brings him anyway because of how vulnerable he makes me feel.

"Hard to believe it's that time of the month again, isn't it?"

"That's right," I breathe, moving carefully around the coffee table, "and I'll have your money for you tomorrow before opening, just like always, you don't have to worry about me forgetting the drill."

"Of course not," Oskar chuckles, no mirth in his heavily accented voice. Konrad advances into the room, and I back away as he moves, making room for Oskar to stride in and survey the disarray of my place.

"You've done a lovely job of picking up where your father left off, Katy, always on time." He reaches a hand to me and pinches my cheeks condescendingly. "He'd be so proud! He was always the sort who knew when to do what was best for his little business."

As the blood boils under my skin and I hold back the urge to claw his eyes out for daring to make light of the subject, Oskar flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and spreading his arms out over the back of the couch.

Konrad hasn't moved since backing me up against the window. He's standing uncomfortably close to me, and I can hear his breathing. Nic hasn't moved from the door, standing there like a sentinel.

"This is just a courtesy call," Oskar drones, checking his nails idly while he makes himself comfortable. "You know, we've had a few of our boys come through the Amber Room over the months."

I know that some of the clubbers have been Russians, but in Brighton Beach, that's about a third of the clientele anyway. Not all the Russians are with the mob, but there's no way to check, either.

"Oh really?" I feign ignorance, "Can't say I've noticed. I've got a lot of guys with hot accents that pass through, and it's rude to ask all of them about their work."

Konrad likes my words a little more than I'm comfortable with, and I hear a rumble from his chest as he moves almost imperceptibly closer to me, as though he's extending his creepy aura my way. Oskar is laughing.

"Maybe so, maybe so. Come, get comfortable." The order is directed more at Konrad than me as he pats the couch cushion next to him. I feel Konrad's eager hand on the small of my back, pushing me towards the couch.

Before I can react, he takes the opportunity to put his hands around my hips and spin me around, thrusting me down on the couch next to Oskar and taking a seat on the other side of me. His hand is itching to slide around my waist, but I don't think he dares act out of turn around Oskar.