Killer Abs (Makes My Heart Race Book 6) Read online

  Killer Abs

  MAKES MY HEART RACE

  C.M. Steele

  Copyrighted © 2020

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system without written expressed permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is purely coincidental.

  Cover design: C.M. Steele

  Cover Image: Deposit Photo

  The use of actors, artists, movies, TV shows and song titles/lyrics throughout this book are done so for storytelling purposes and should in no way be seen as advertisement. Trademark names are used in an editorial fashion with no intention of infringement of the respective owner’s trademark.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or if it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return it to the seller and please purchase your own copy.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Many years later

  A few more years

  About the Author

  Introduction

  I killed before, and I’d kill again. One look at the new chef in my kitchen, and I knew I’d kill anyone that even looked at her perfection with nothing but respect. The position had been a temporary job. However, the second I walked through the kitchen door, forever was all I had on my mind.

  She didn’t belong in my world with all her sweetness, but there was no way I’d let her go.

  She was mine to keep and mine to protect.

  Ready for seven all-new alphas to take control of your library!?

  From head to toe, these hotties are prepared to deliver the heart-pounding HEA’s you’re craving!

  Forget the beach, these heroes are the summer fun you need!

  8/3: Furry Face by Frankie Love

  8/5: Bedroom Eyes by Shaw Hart

  8/7: Slow Hands by Hope Ford

  8/10: Tight Buns from Kate Hunt

  8/12: Chiseled Chest by Megan Wade

  8/14: Killer Abs by CM Steele

  8/17: Alpha’s Arms by Flora Ferrari

  Chapter One

  Maria

  The moment I pulled up to work, I noticed something was seriously wrong. The restaurant’s window had a giant “Temporarily Closed” sign, but the front door was open. I could see a large puddle on the sidewalk coming from the building.

  It wasn’t pooled water from cleaning the windows. The amount could only mean one thing and that broke my heart. Tears quickly formed in my eyes as I walked through the open doorway. “Oh my God, Mr. Andretti. What happened?”

  “A busted pipe.” He ran his hand through his hair, frowning as he stared at me. Working your entire life for one thing only to watch it fall apart must be brutal.

  “You’re not going to close forever, are you?” I questioned. For both his and my sake, I hoped the answer would be an emphatic no. I’d worked hard to save money, but my car broke down and I had to use the cash to get it fixed. If I didn’t find another job soon, I’d be living in my car.

  “No. No,” he offered, pressing his hand to my shoulder. We had built a father-daughter bond over the years.

  “How long is the business going to be down?” It was selfish because I was thinking about myself and how the flood would fuck up my life.

  “At least two weeks. It’s going to kill me to do it, but everyone is unemployed at the moment. I’m sorry, Maria.” He grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. I tried to hold back the disappointment on my face, but it was too heartbreaking. I needed this job to pay my rent. I didn’t have a fallback option since everything I learned had been through hands-on experience.

  “Well, I better get looking for work,” I said, trying to smile, but my emotions were all over the place.

  “I’m sorry. You can always file for unemployment.” He knew that I had no one to turn to. My parents had died in an accident two years ago. Because they never thought about saving a single dollar, they died poor, causing me to foot the bill for their burials.

  Pursing my lips, I asked, “Do you know if anyone is hiring?”

  “No.” He didn’t have to say it, but I knew that I wasn’t qualified for another restaurant. I barely finished high school.

  I nodded, looking back at the restaurant and then back to Mr. Andretti. “Well, I better get going? Do you need me to do anything for you?”

  “No, Bella.”

  Just then, a black SUV pulled up in front of the building in a rush, parking on an angle. A man I’d seen several times before and despised stepped out with a scowl on his face. If there was any customer who set me on edge, it was this dude. He was the muscle for a Russian mob boss and made it know that he was a ruthless asshole with wandering eyes.

  I was going to cut out, but Mr. Andretti tensed up and asked, “Igor? What brings you here?”

  “The boss would like a special dinner tonight. What is going on, Andretti?” He looked around as if it weren’t apparent that Andretti’s wasn’t open for business.

  “There was a flood. I can’t open the restaurant.” Mr. Andretti looked terrified, all because some fat mobster couldn’t get his big Italian meal. Seriously, this boss of Igor’s had problems.

  “Mr. Kazakov expected a feast for his guests tonight,” he bristled with violent intent.

  “Well, I’m sorry; there’s nothing I can do,” he begged as if he’d get whacked for not giving the goon what he wanted.

  “The boss will be very disappointed to hear that.” He stepped away from us and got on his phone. I rolled my eyes behind his back.

  “His boss is a very picky man,” I muttered so Igor the goon couldn’t hear me. I hated the way he’d lurk in the kitchen while we made his boss’s dinner as if we planned to poison it or something. None of us even knew what Mr. Kazakov looked like, and we preferred to keep it that way. The less we knew, the better for all of us.

  “Mr. Kazakov has been very good to me and my business. You know you make all of his meals.” I gasped because I thought maybe the pasta king also ordered when I wasn’t working.

  Igor, the fucking brute, came back over with a scowl on his face and handed the phone to Mr. Andretti.

  Igor stared at me while they spoke with his eyes roaming over me. I wasn’t in my typical chef uniform, so he stared at my bared legs and then lingered on my breasts. I wanted to punch him in his dick. “Yes, I know it was very important, but there’s nothing I can do.” I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end, but from the nervousness in Mr. Andretti’s voice, I took a guess that the Tony Soprano wannabe didn’t like being told no.

  “Yes, well, there is one thing. I can send over one of my chefs to cook tonight, but they would need a stocked kitchen to cook.” I hoped he was talking about Diego, who was the master chef.

  “Yes, Mr. Kazakov. I’ll send Maria over today. The best I have
. Okay.” He handed the phone back to Igor.

  “What the hell? I’m supposed to go cook for a mobster,” I exclaimed out in the street, not giving a shit if he could hear me. That pissed Igor off, and he grunted his disapproval as he walked off to talk to his boss.

  Remembering I was in public, I lowered my voice and said to my boss, “I can’t cook for him.”

  “Why not? You need the money, and it’s not like he hasn’t had your food before.”

  I supposed he had a valid point. “This is only temporary, right?”

  “Yes, just until I reopen. Please. We both need this.” His pleading look weakened my defenses, and I reluctantly agreed.

  “I thought he only wanted it for the night?”

  “No, he wants the full two weeks since the restaurant isn’t going to be open.”

  “Da.” Igor ended his call, tucked the phone away, and then stalked back over to us.

  “Come with me.” He grabbed my wrist and led me to the SUV a little too roughly for my taste. He looked at me more than he did the food I prepped. It was as if he wanted to sample me as well.

  “Damn, calm down, beast boy. I have to use these babies to cook with, you know.” He let go and grumbled something shitty in Russian. “Besides, I have my car right here.” I pointed to my twenty-year old Hyundai Sonata.

  “No, you will come with me. The boss will not let that rubbish on his property.” Damn, well that was mean. Not all of us could afford the latest models or same colored doors and shit.

  “Um. Are you going to drive me home as well?” I didn’t want to be confined with this man for any amount of time, but I had to know what they had in mind when it came to my duties for their boss.

  “When your two weeks are up, yes.”

  He opened the passenger door, but I froze in my spot. “What? Are you telling me I have to stay there?” I exclaimed, glaring at him.

  “Yes. I’m not going to make daily trips to pick you up so you can spend the night whoring around.” I ignored his bullshit because I didn’t want to let him in my private life. Not that I had one, but that wasn’t his business.

  “I thought I’d only be serving dinner with the occasional lunch. I didn’t realize I had to make all Mr. Kazakov’s meals. I do have a life outside of work, you know.”

  “I don’t care what you have to do. For the next two weeks, you’ll work and stay at Mr. Kazakov’s estate, so deal with it.”

  Asshole. “Well, then, I’m going to need some clothes to wear. Can we at least stop at my apartment?” Honestly, I didn’t care for him to be anywhere I lived, but it didn’t look like I had a choice.

  “Fine.” He took me there and followed me inside as if I planned on making a run for it. Running crossed my mind, but where to and what for? I needed the money, and they only needed a chef. I’d mind my business and cook my food. Grabbing my phone charger, I packed it with some clothes for a week. They’d just have to let me do my laundry or have a day off.

  We drove in silence all the way to the store. Spending an hour perusing the aisles with Igor the ogre wasn’t pleasant. Several people that I’d known for years bent their brows in blatant curiosity and suspicion. The goon looked just like one.

  “You could have waited in the car, you know?” I informed the silent brute.

  “Well, who the fuck do you think is paying for it?”

  “You are such a pleasure, aren’t you?”

  “One day, little girl…. One day I’m going to make you pay for that mouth of yours.” I rolled my eyes and pushed the cart around the store. It took an hour to shop and pay before we were on the road again to the big gated estate in the city suburbs.

  Of course the rich thug had a classical architecture home that rivaled country estates all over Europe and Russia. My heart nearly stopped at the pure beauty. How dare someone like him own such majesty. The mansion spread out for over a block and I heard he didn’t have any family.

  Two other guards came out and assisted with the groceries. I followed them into the house through the side entrance. I’d forgotten that as the help, I wasn’t allowed in the main entrance. As we passed a door, Igor set down my duffle bag. “This is your room. Come, the kitchen is this way.”

  They set the bags down on the expansive kitchen island that was any cook’s dream and then they left, muttering something to Igor on their way out. The way they stole one more look at me, I had a feeling whatever they’d said had to do with me.

  “You can work in here. You don’t go into any of the main rooms in the house. The food will be taken from you by the housekeeper. If you fuck up, it’ll be the last thing you do.” I stared at the man in the suit, wondering what I’d gotten myself into. I was now the temporary personal chef for the Russian Crime Syndicate—Maxim Kazakov specifically.

  I’d never met the man, but I’d heard of him. I didn’t know what he looked like, and I hoped that I never found out just in case they felt I knew too much. Now, I sat in the most pristine kitchen of one of the most ruthless men in the world with a threat hanging over my head.

  “Yes, sir.” I’d gotten myself mixed up with the wrong kind of people. At sixteen, Mr. Andretti had given me a chance to go into the kitchen and work. Over the years, I’d proven my value to the restaurant, and I thought maybe it would help me get into a culinary school. Still, all it got me was a one-way ticket into the Russian underworld.

  “I’m Igor. You will refer to me as such. ‘Sir’ is Mr. Kazakov.” Igor frightened me, not that I’d let him know that, but he did. He was the ogre type of man in a suit that looked like they used the whole spool of material just for him.

  “Okay,” I muttered, peeking through the cabinets to get familiar with all of the kitchen tools.

  “Mr. Kazakov prefers his meals to be fresh, so you will be notified if a meal is requested. Should you disappoint him, you will be out on your ass immediately, if you live.”

  “Damn. No pressure.”

  “You came with great recommendations from Mr. Andretti.” Mr. Andretti was like a second father to me and had helped a young girl who needed a job and an opportunity. I’d never do anything to risk his life, and that’s exactly what Igor was implying. “Don’t make him regret his praise.”

  I wouldn’t. Digging through the kitchen, I found everything I needed to make Mr. Kazakov his favorite dish that he ordered regularly from the restaurant.

  Chapter Two

  Maxim

  I took off my suit jacket and rolled up my sleeves as I entered my office. I summoned Igor before I had to take my call. With my last chef finding himself at the wrong end of a blade, I needed this woman to work out at least for the two weeks although having one of Andretti’s chefs permanently sounded wonderfully satisfying to me.

  “How is the temporary chef getting settled?” I was born in Russia, but I had spent a great deal of time in Italy as a late teen and then as an adult, and I’d fallen in love with the food while doing business with my friend Alessandro.

  Over the years, nothing had compared until I found Andretti’s restaurant three years ago. It had become a place I ordered from regularly at least twice a week for dinner.

  Tonight, I have two guests coming over to visit from Italy, and I promised them cuisine like they would find at home.

  When Andretti’s flooded after some busted pipes, my only other recourse was to hire their chef until the restaurant opened. Andretti offered me his sous-chef Maria who’d learned to cook by watching. I shouldn’t have accepted anyone without a proper background check, but I trusted Andretti.

  “She’s okay. Beautiful but a real cunt. I don’t think it’s smart to bring her in here. It would be a shame to have to pop her if she got a mouth on her or decided to flip on us.”

  I didn’t know why I was bothered that he thought she was beautiful and then called her names. I’d never met this woman before, so my need to defend her made no sense to me. It wasn’t like I ever gave a woman more attention than necessary, and I was most definitely not the jealous kind
.

  Bristling, I said, “First that’s not your concern, Igor. Second, Andretti wouldn’t have sent her if he wasn’t sure she’d be good for the job. Now, I expect the menu to be good tonight for our guests. It’s going to be their last week in America, after all, and I want them pleased.”

  I’d known DiMarco for twenty years, and he’d brought his wife with him on their honeymoon trip through the US. This was their last stop before needing to head back to Naples.

  “I informed her, and she will have it ready in two hours. Nina will bring it to you as requested.” Nina was the housekeeper who’d been with me for ten years. She was a grumpy old woman that normally would have been fired but did her job without question. I’d have her cook if she could, but not all women were blessed with the gift of cooking.

  “Good.” I prepared for my conference call with an investor in real estate. I’d made very lucrative deals with the right people—even if they were not always on the legal end of the law.

  After the brief call, Igor knocked on my door and said, “Boss, the little tart would like to know what you would prefer for dessert. She has three options.”

  I raised my hand to silence whatever he’d say next. Annoyed that he brought up the chef again in such a vulgar way, I remarked, “Tell her to prepare all three, and I will take a taste of all of them before dinner.”

  Fucking hell. What was so damn hard about preparing dinner? If she’d worked at the restaurant all this time, I’d more than likely tasted everything she’d made at one point or another. Unless she knew damn well who she was serving and was nervous.

  “Yes, boss.” He left, and I had a strange feeling about the new chef. Since when did Igor intentionally go out of his way to help the staff to please me? Was he seeing her on the side when he was supposed to be picking up my orders?