Page 6 of Cruel Russian Monster (Safin Bratva #2)

I locked the car I stole from Jaroslav’s garage and made my way across the parking lot to the bar. I left the laptop and phone behind, because I knew he had them bugged.

It would have been foolish of me to think otherwise.

Over the past week, I used a retail site I’d relied on back home whenever I didn’t want Artyom knowing what I was up to.

The system was set up in a way that linked directly to my messenger account.

I’d still receive the orders, usually small, harmless stuff.

Some I kept, but others I gave away or donated.

The real purpose was always the message.

Codes hidden in item names, combinations, quantities, colors… I had it down to a damn science.

I’d never met the guy who passed along my messages.

We got connected in college after I vented to a classmate about my overbearing, overprotective older brother.

She’d laughed, then slid me the contact info of someone who specialized in message delivery with zero traceability.

She smiled and said he was reliable, and that was all I needed to know.

But this time, I needed him to do more than just deliver a message.

It took three long days of negotiation to get him on board. He wasn’t easy to convince since he practically lived behind his computer, especially not with who I told him I was. But I was sure the hefty bonus I tacked onto the deal did the trick. Money always had a way of overpowering caution.

In the meantime, I played the part of a perfect Bratva housewife. I made him feel like he’d won, that I was softening and settling into his forced marriage.

All while planning my escape.

Once the messenger and I confirmed a place and time, I needed a way to identify him easily, hence the red cap and number forty-two shirt in my last message.

I thought I was done for when Jaroslav walked into the bathroom earlier. For a moment, time froze. After turning off the valve, of course, he did what he did best—he got under every one of my damn nerves!

I wasn't about to stand there and listen to his accusations, so I stormed off, or tried to. I slipped and was suddenly pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around me.

Then came the worst part.

He didn't remove his arms. He allowed them to linger on the small of my back. I saw the desire in his eyes, felt the soft growl in his chest as it rumbled beneath my fingers.

Our lips inched closer together, breath mingling…then his phone rang, bringing me back to my senses.

He released me and walked out like nothing happened.

I exhaled hard.

My back still tingled from where he’d touched me, my nipples tightening in response. I clenched my thighs and forced myself forward, walking faster.

He was the enemy. I would do well to remember that.

Inside the bar, I picked a table against the wall, facing the door. I chose this bar because it was in one of the worst parts of Philly. No one would suspect a Bratva princess to be there.

I dressed in a T-shirt, jeans, and a cap, trying to be as conservative as possible. A few men had eyed me, but none approached. Thank God.

When the waitress came, I asked for water with ice, and she quickly filled my order.

I’d already scanned the place; there was no red cap on site. He wasn’t here yet. He had five more minutes before he was officially late.

His job was simple: get me somewhere safe, hide me. At least until I came up with another plan.

The last thing I needed was for Jaroslav to know I was heading back home to my siblings. The further they stayed from this mess, the better.

The longer I waited, the more my chest tightened. The ice in my glass had melted. I traced the rim with a finger, stomach curling as time dragged on. My thoughts churned.

Maybe he bailed.

Maybe he had a flat tire.

I'd never know, since I had no way to contact him, and he had no way to contact me.

Thirty minutes passed before I finally stood up, hands shaking as I reached for my keys in my purse.

He hadn't shown. And that wasn't a good thing.

The only other reason for him not showing would be…

Oh crap…

Jaroslav probably intercepted him on the way here, and now he was probably on his way.

If he had, the messenger was probably dead. I forced back the bile that threatened to crawl up my throat.

I hustled through the parking lot. The last thing I needed was for Jaroslav to find me here. Hopefully, the guy I hired hadn’t spilled the beans, and Jaroslav would chalk it up to a gut feeling, not a plan.

Now, though, it meant I had to find a new messenger and a new way to get my message out, one Jaroslav wouldn’t be able to crack.

He was Lev’s underboss for a reason. Sure, he handled interrogations, but he wasn’t just muscle. He was a fucking strategist.

And while that might have been sexy as hell to a Bratva princess like me who loved a man of intellect, right now, it was just downright annoying.

Because now I had the goddamn challenge of outsmarting him…again. That shit was exhausting doing it the first time.

Just before I reached the car, four men stepped out of the shadows, walking toward me slowly.

Instinct kicked in, and I stepped back for every step they took forward. But two of them broke off and circled behind me. I froze, spinning in place, trapped. Stupid little smirks spread across their stupid little faces.

“Well, well, well,” the first man snickered, snatching the hat off my head and tossing it to the ground. He brushed his fingers along my face. “Jaroslav sure knows how to pick them. You're beautiful, baby.”

I slapped his hand away. “Don’t fucking touch me!” My heart thundered in my chest.

“Why not, sweetheart?” the second guy said, grinding his hips in a crude motion. “We just wanna make you feel better than he has this week.”

The others laughed.

Had they been watching Jaroslav’s house?

And did they even know who the hell I was? They had only mentioned Jaroslav, so they probably didn't.

I didn't know if letting them know I was a Rykov would make things better or a hell of a lot worse. So, I stayed silent.

The second guy reached for my breast, and I slashed the car keys across his face. An angry mark rose on his cheek.

He swore, clutching his face. I barely had time to smirk before the first guy slapped me hard, and I stumbled backward, straight into the arms of one of the men behind me. He caught me and yanked my arms behind me.

The first guy grabbed my jaw and snarled, “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”

He leaned in closer, and I held my breath. “After we’ve all had our fill, maybe we’ll drop you back off for him. A washed-up whore, for a washed-up Safin.”

He eyed the other men.

“Let’s get this bitch in the car.”

“I'm sitting next to her. I can't wait to get my hands on that full rack of hers,” the fourth man said.

Oh, hell no.

I fought like my life depended on it, because it did, as they dragged me towards their car. With my hands still behind my back, I kicked, head butted, and screamed, hoping that someone would come to the rescue. I barely felt the pain that rushed through my body with each movement I made.

Just as the first guy flung the car door open, a gunshot exploded across the parking lot, and I screamed.

I was horrified.

The first guy’s eyes went wide, then rolled back. Blood trickled from the bullet wound that was dead-center in his forehead. He dropped like a stone.

The others froze for a moment, stunned…then everything happened all at once.

One of them spun me around, placing me in front of him as a shield. I gasped, struggling for air as his arm crushed my throat. He whipped out his phone and called for backup while the other two opened fire at the shooter.

Jaroslav.

And he looked pissed.

Whether it was because I had tried to run away or because I was being used as a human shield, I couldn’t tell.

The man who had me in his grasp hadn’t reached for his gun yet, and I used that to my advantage.

I reached up behind me, grabbed his head, and drove both thumbs into his eyes.

He screamed, dropped his phone, and his arm loosened just enough for me to pull one hand back and slam my elbow into his ribs.

He cursed but recovered fast, yanking me down to the ground. In seconds, he was straddling me, one hand locked around my throat, squeezing and blocking off my air supply.

Then his free hand moved behind him, reaching for his gun.

Before he could draw it, a burst of bullets tore through his body. His eyes went wide, then blank, and he slumped forward onto me.

I grunted as I shoved his weight off and staggered to my knees, sucking in air greedily.

A strong hand gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet.

“Get up, Vera. It’s time to go.”

I pulled my arm away and glared at Jaroslav. “I don’t need to go with you.”

Jaroslav’s eyes darkened, his breathing hitched.

“You did hear them call for help, right?” he ground out. “Like fuck I’m leaving you here. If they're calling for backup, they know what you look like. And they sure as hell know that I'm here with you… without backup.”

“You don’t have to leave me here,” I said stubbornly. “I came in a car. I can get away from them just fine.”

He stepped closer, sweat dripping from his brow. “You are my wife . You will be leaving here with me. If they get their hands on you, they'll kill you…or worse…” his voice trailed off. He closed his eyes briefly before glaring at me again.

He breathed in quick, shallow breaths.

Why was he breathing like…

That’s when I saw it. The blood was soaking through his shirt, below his jacket.

I stepped back and opened his jacket. His blood was rapidly seeping into his shirt.

I glanced up at him, at his shirt, then back at him once more. “Shit…you're bleeding.”

“Vera,” he said, voice softer now. “We need to go. I don't want them to…I can't…”

He swayed, then forced himself to stiffen. That’s when I knew he was worse off than he let on.

He'd never let anyone see how injured he was, so they could use it to their advantage. It was ingrained in Bratva men to battle without showing weakness, and Jaroslav was no different. Not in the position he held in his faction.

But he had shown weakness. His body was betraying him. His breathing. The sweat. The blood. His sway.

And I sure as hell was ready to make the most of it.

I stepped back again. With how much blood he was losing, he didn't have the strength to drag me anywhere.

But before I could tell him off and run to the car, two SUVs rolled into the parking lot.

“Shit,” Jaroslav hissed.

He moved fast, faster than I thought he could in his injured state, and yanked me behind a row of cars. My stolen car sat two spots away.

His hand trembled on my arm, but his eyes never left the scene.

Eight men spilled out of the SUVs, weapons in hand, checking the bodies he had dropped just a few minutes ago.

One of them shouted, “Check this damn parking lot! Find that Safin bastard and that bitch now!”

Jaroslav leaned hard against the car, gripping his side.

Could I really leave him here to be caught…or killed?

I already knew the answer.

Shit.

“Let’s go,” I said.

I grabbed his arm and pointed at the car.

“I'm parked right over there.”

We moved as fast as we could. I got him into the back seat.

“Stay low,” I whispered, shutting the door.

I slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and eased out. Luckily, the way I had parked gave me a clean line to the second exit, avoiding the men hunting the injured man in the back seat.

The tires squealed slightly when I turned too hard. I cursed under my breath, hoping the sound wouldn’t draw attention. Jaroslav groaned behind me, head lolling to the side. I glanced in the rearview mirror. His eyes were fluttering, barely staying open.

“Don’t you dare die on me,” I muttered.

I glanced in the side mirror, then the rearview mirror.

No one was following us, at least not yet.

As soon as the tires hit the road, I glanced at the man clutching his side in the back seat, struggling to remain conscious.

My heart lurched. I stepped on the gas and sped toward Jaroslav’s house, praying he’d still be alive when we got there.