Page 67 of The Bratva’s Stalked Pregnant Bride

Those ominous words made me do something unprecedented. My fear had crystallized into anger after sitting so long on buses lamenting what I was leaving behind. My fist shot out and bopped him in the nose, making his head jerk back, but not strong enough to draw any blood.

“Damn it,” he said, wrenching both my hands behind my back. “What did I say?”

Once my hands were zip-tied together, he motioned for me to sit down. There was an unmade bed, and there was no way I’d go anywhere near the disgustingly stained mattress, so I took a seat in the folding chair pushed up against the wall.

“Good, now don’t do anything stupid so I can get paid.”

He was being bizarrely jovial, almost reminding me of Chase in a weird way, with the way he was instantly friends with everyone around him.

“Who’s paying you?” I asked. “And why?”

“Some guy from wine country thinks you’re worth a hell of a lot,” he said, leaning against the door frame and looking at me like he didn’t necessarily agree, but wasn’t going to be rude about it. “A hell of a lot.”

If I thought I was putting on a good show when I got Georgiy to agree to take me to the mall, I had to put on an even better one now. “My husband will find me,” I warned, wishing it was true, now, when it was too late. “Then you won’t get your money from my ex.”

Bandana boy only grinned wider. “That’s even better then. Mik Fokin is worth just as much to my boss as you are to the wine guy.”

What the hell was he talking about? I didn’t like that predatory look in his eyes one bit at the mention of Mik’s name. How did he even know it? I had to change tack, forget about threats that weren’t going to come true. “Just turn me over to Rand and get this over with,” I said. “Mik and his family have nothing to do with this.”

He laughed heartily, truly enjoying himself. “Are you kidding me? The Fokins have everything to do with this. Your husband’s the reason I volunteered for this job in the first place. If your ex shows up first, that’s just a bonus.”

I stared at him, uncomprehending, and he shook his head, still chuckling. “You really don’t get it? Maybe you’d want to go back with the wine guy if you knew.”

“If I knew what?” I asked.

Mik was a brewer from Moscow, family money, but down to earth and mostly, usually kind. He had a heart of gold when he wasn’t being a pain in the ass, and if he was controlling, it was because he wanted the very best, same as me.

“Oh, girl,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest and settling himself more comfortably against the door. “You really have no idea.”

And then, with the enthusiasm of someone who thrived on gossip, he proceeded to tell me everything I needed, but never wanted, to know about Mik and his family. Where all that generational wealth came from and how they kept it. About his current boss trying to take over the Fokins’ territory, and how the bounty on my head was the perfect chance to flush Mik out and use him as leverage against his cousins.

Or just kill him. It seemed like they were fine with that, too, because all those nights Mik was out, he was apparently wreaking havoc all over the city with the crime family that ruled LA with an iron fist. After being served up with all the lies Mik had been telling me, I wasn’t exactly against it.

That nice, fresh burst of anger dried up pretty quick, because I wasn’t going to make it out much better. Worse if Rand got his hands on me again. On top of that, I was terrified for Nell, because I learned she was being held captive somewhere else, forced to make that call to me to get me there.

By the time Bandana boy wound up his story about the bloodthirsty and power-crazy family I had married into, I was worn out, and the darkness was closing in on me fast. It took him all of ten minutes to dismantle everything I thought I knew about Mik, and my mind was reeling. The man who zip-tied me and finally left me alone in this godforsaken room was right.

My psycho ex might actually be the least of my problems, because apparently I was married to the mob.

Chapter 40 - Mikhail

Georgiye met me as soon as I got home, apologizing profusely and pissed off at himself for letting Laurel give him the slip.

“Cookies, my ass,” he muttered, apologizing some more.

It was more my fault than his, and all my anger was directed inward. I never should have told them to act like everything was normal when in fact, everything was wrong. Now she could have been anywhere. Through some bribes to some of my family’s contacts, I was sent some of the security camera footage outside the mall, and I spotted her getting on a bus.

After that, there was nothing, because she had her phone off. CJ was busy hacking into every camera on that particular bus route, but the damn things made so many stops and there were so many of them throughout the city, it was going to take hours if not days to get another sighting of her again.

CJ also suggested tracking her bank card, and we got a hit on it at an ATM about forty minutes away, in the middle of nowhere in particular. It was clear she was just taking that opportunity to load up on cash in between bus rides. She could be halfway to Mexico or on her way toward Nevada, or on a cheap flight to the Canadian border by now.

All because I waited too long to tell her the truth, and that she had nothing to feel guilty or responsible for. I kept telling myself it was for her own good. She was too upset, why make things worse. Well, what was worse than this? She was out there on her own, with no idea she was actively being hunted, not just by her ex but by an entire platoon of criminal foot soldiers.

Because of who I was, but also because I was too afraid to lose her by telling her the truth. Luk showed up to help sift through camera footage at about the time I was ready to punch a hole in the wall.

“We’re going to get her back,” he said, pulling me into the kitchen. Deciding I didn’t need caffeine, he found the wine rack and pulled out a random bottle.

I shook my head, my heart twisting. Just the sight of a wine bottle reminded me of all the little arguments Laurel and I had, and the times I kept them going just because it was fun. If I got her back, that would never happen again. She’d get everything she wanted without a word.