Page 30 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

A thirst for blood.

His eyes lock onto the biker. “You just made the biggest mistake of your fucking life.”

Chapter Eight

Igor

The smell of gunpowder clings to the air, mixing with burnt rubber and gasoline until every breath tastes like metal.

The ringing in my ears has faded, replaced by the sharp chorus of shouted orders, screeching tires, and groans from wounded men scattered across the highway. One of the escort SUVs sits at an odd angle several yards away, its front end wrapped around the concrete barrier after taking one of the motorcycles head-on. Sergei is already coordinating the perimeter, barking rapid-fire instructions into his radio while the others sweep the area for any remaining threats.

“It’s all clear, boss,” Sergei says.

“And our attackers?”

“They’re all dead,” he answers.

My fists clench, my nostrils flaring with rage that could drive me to insanity if I let it. I wanted one of those fuckers alive. Then I could’ve tortured the bastard and gotten information about who the hell set up this fucking ambush.

The last call I received was from Joaquin. He’s the one who invited me to the port, but he wouldn’t be stupid enough to set up an open attack on me.

It has to be someone else. Someone close enough to know my plans, someone who hates my alliance with the Mexicans.

I glance at the woman sitting on the asphalt several feet away.

Audrey.

She’s pale. Too pale.

She shouldn’t be sitting on the side of a goddamn highway covered in blood. She should be home, safe, and far away from this underworld bullshit.

I shouldn’t have allowed her to come with me tonight. She’s stubborn, but I should’ve insisted on not bringing her along.

Her white dress is now a dark shade of red with white spots. The medic kneels in front of her, speaking in a calm voice I can’t hear over the blood pounding in my ears. Her left arm hangs awkwardly against her side, and every time she tries to move it, her face twists with pain.

A surge of rage tears through me.

I’m not even mad at the bikers or whoever put them up to this.

No.

I’m mad at myself for not protecting her better. I’m mad at myself for almost losing her after finally finding her again.

I should’ve seen them sooner.

The motorcycle stayed with the convoy for almost six blocks, long enough for me to notice and prevent any of this from happening. Instead, I almost watched my wife die right before my eyes.

A dull throb pulses beneath my ribs with every heartbeat. The bullet only grazed me, but it left enough of a wound to remind me how close I came to losing her.

“Take care of this mess,” I order Sergei. “Make sure it doesn’t get to the news, and the cops don’t get involved. Then find out who the hell is behind this.”

Sergei’s eyes move to my side. “Boss, you’re bleeding. You need to get checked.”

I ignore him and cross the distance between us in a handful of strides. Sergei falls in step behind me.

The medic reaches for Audrey’s arm again, and she flinches.

“Touch her carelessly one more time and you won’t have hands any longer.”