Page 35 of The Bratva’s Innocent Sold Bride (Fokin Bratva #9)

So many Fokins. It was overwhelming, to say the least. Within minutes, I forgot that every last one of them was probably a highly trained assassin, because they were all so damn nice.

It was clear they would walk over fire for each other, and what kind of broke my heart a little was that they so easily accepted me as one of their own.

I wasn’t, and that was what hurt.

It was impossible to keep up with who was married to whom and what their kids’ names were, but I let their happiness at all being together wash over me, wondering what it would be like if Mat and I were really married.

I mean, we were, but if it was real. If the love-at-first-sight story they all believed was true. Looking across the table at Mat, so handsome and relaxed, I could almost believe it myself.

Then everything changed. The mood grew somber and dark, a frisson running through all of them after a single glance at the eldest, Aleks.

Something was wrong. Really wrong. The wives and Nat and Mila tried to joke it off, but I could see in their eyes that they were worried.

The glances they exchanged with each other told me all I needed to know.

Suddenly, it was just us women when the men all rushed out to take care of something that was absolutely not a big deal, but also couldn’t wait another minute. So, this was being married to the Bratva. Tense waiting, and no one admitting how scared they were.

After we pretended to finish our dessert, which had been delicious before but now tasted like sand, Mila suggested we go to her place for drinks.

And to wait it out, though nobody said that part.

I rode with Mila, who kept up a constant chatter, too much, in fact.

It started to grate on my own nerves. Should I be worried, too?

At any moment of any day, these women could find themselves widows, in charge of everything their husbands left behind, including all the shit that got the husband killed in the first place. It was a wonder they weren’t all bald from pulling their hair out.

As we pulled into the drive leading up to Mila’s beautiful Spanish-style villa, I turned to her. “Should I be worried?” I asked, silently pleading with her to tell the truth. Or maybe not. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

She sighed and forced a smile. “Welcome to the Bratva,” she said, then patted her baby bump. “If only Junior here would agree to a shot of vodka.”

“That bad?”

Her smile was a little less strained. “They’ll be fine. They always are.”

Until they weren’t.

Everyone congregated in Mila’s giant modern kitchen, pulling out cheese and fruit from the fridge, with Katie raiding the wine cellar. Mila took me on a brief, perfunctory tour, apologizing that everything wasn’t perfect yet; she was still working on finding the right pieces for each room.

“Tell me about it,” I muttered.

“I can’t wait to see your place when it’s done. Mat keeps us updated when he remembers and is always raving about what a great job you’re doing. Decorating a place that size on your own is a project, that’s for sure.”

I was too stunned to respond and could only nod.

Mat had praised me to his cousin? That was a bit above and beyond our little act, wasn’t it?

Slowly but surely, furniture was trickling in, along with artwork and little knick-knacks I thought were cute or fun or pretty. I never even knew Mat noticed.

Back in the kitchen, we pretended everything was just as jolly as before, the men all rushed out, guns at the ready, but nobody was doing a very good job.

An hour passed with no word, and Jenna—I was pretty sure she was Max’s wife and Katie’s younger sister—suggested a movie night.

Mila was quick to agree, trying to herd everyone into her theater, hyping up the new popcorn machine, but Olivia shook her head.

“I’m exhausted. I’m heading home.”

“Me too,” Daria piped up.

Everyone wilted. “Just because we haven’t heard anything doesn’t mean something’s wrong,” Katie said with authority, even as she bit her lower lip with worry.

“All the more reason to go home and get some sleep,” Daria said, eyes flashing. Olivia nodded, already heading wearily for the door.

I raised my hand, as if I were in school, and asked if one of them could drop me off at my hotel. “If it’s not a problem,” I hurriedly added. “I can stay if it is.”

Olivia rolled her eyes. “You’re staying at our place, right?” she said, quickly explaining that they owned the hotel at my look of confusion. “That’s right on your way, Daria. Can you take her?”

“Of course,” she said in a clipped voice. Once again, I sputtered that it was no problem to stay and watch a movie, but she took my arm and led me out the door. “I’ll take you to the hotel if you want, but I’m not going home,” she said fiercely as soon as we were in her car.

“You’re not?” I asked.

“I can’t stand this waiting around anymore. I know what’s happening, and I mean to go see if Ivan and the others need help.” Leaning down, she pulled a huge gun halfway from under the seat to show me. “There’s one under yours as well. I assume you can shoot?”

“I can’t,” I said. “I really can’t.”

“It’s fine. I get you’ve only been in the family a short time, and Mat’s been busy. You should get to the range on your own, though, even if he can’t take you.”

“Daria,” I said, around the block of fear rising up my chest. “You’re the first person who’s been real with me tonight. Is it that bad?”

“It’s worse,” she said. “And this protecting us women nonsense is crap. You can bet your boots that Nat and Mila would be right here with me if they weren’t pregnant.”

“But what about movie night?” I asked. “Aren’t they scared, too?”

“Out of their wits, but they’ll give it a couple more hours before they start getting antsy. I’m not that patient.”

“I’ll go with you,” I said. “I can’t shoot, but maybe I can be a lookout or something.”

She gave me a tense smile, her eyes immediately back on the road as we raced through the city into a desolate part of town. “Good. So, how’s life with Mat?”

The sudden change to small talk shocked me, but apparently Daria had seen some things and was used to charged situations.

“We’re muddling through,” I said. Oops, that didn’t sound much like newlywed bliss, but Daria only laughed.

“It’s kind of fun, isn’t it? The blowups, then making up after? I hope Ivan and I never calm down.”

Sure, maybe she had a point. I had no time to think about it because we careened into a dark warehouse park and swerved between the hulking buildings toward the back.

She pulled up in front of one that was surrounded by cars.

I recognized the luxury rental we picked up at the airport.

When she opened her door, I heard crashing from within the building.

Slinging her massive gun over her shoulder, Daria ran and stood on her toes to look into a window, then scurried back and opened the trunk, rummaging around in it. Yanking my door open, she handed me something about the size of a baseball.

“I’m going in. It’s pretty straightforward in there, but our guys don’t exactly have the upper hand right now.” She pointed to the side of the building. “Stand under the window in the alley. Give me a fifteen count, then pull the pin on that thing and toss it in.”

I looked down to see that I was holding a grenade. “What the freaking hell, Daria?”

“It’s just smoke. A diversion, nothing more,” she said. “Can I count on you?”

All her fast-spoken words hit me at once. Our guys didn’t have the upper hand. Mat was in trouble, maybe hurt. Maybe worse. She pointed out the pin I was supposed to pull.

“Do not hang onto it after it’s out. Throw that sucker and then get out of the alley fast.”

Like I was in a slow-motion nightmare, I ran to the alley and started to count.

Was I going too fast, too slow? Standing on my toes, I peeked in the window, then forgot everything.

The place was trashed, broken crates everywhere.

An unmoving body in a pool of blood. Who was it?

I heard another crash and darted my eyes in that direction.

My breath gusted out when I saw Mat, blood running down the side of his face, gun raised.

In the back where he’d come from, there were a couple of men tied to chairs, another body on the floor.

Mayhem. A loud bang, and Mat swerved to the side.

Did he just get shot at?

Damn it, I must have missed my mark by now. In a daze of horror, I pulled the pin and tossed the grenade, then did as I was told and got the heck out of the alley, skidding behind the cars just as a massive explosion rang out and flying debris shattered the windows from the inside.

Just smoke, eh?

There was so much gunfire after that, I had to put my hands over my ears, staying crouched behind a car. My heart was beating so fast I could hardly breathe, and white spots danced in my peripheral vision. Where was Mat? Did he get shot? Did something crush him after the blast?

It might have been a minute or an hour, but finally everything was quiet except for…

laughter? Who the hell was laughing at a time like this?

Mat, that’s who. I was so relieved to recognize the sound, I stood up and flew toward the ruined warehouse just as he was staggering out the door with a couple of his cousins.

His two brothers were behind him, ruffling Daria’s hair like she was their little sister, calling her a hero.

“No, there’s your hero,” she said, pointing to me with a grin on her smudged face. “How do you think we got that amazing explosion that let me get the drop on your friends?”

When Mat saw me, the laughter died, and his face went stone cold. Two of his cousins helped Ivan out, limping and badly beaten. He pushed away from them and struggled to Daria’s side.

“That was stupid and reckless,” he said, giving her a little shake, then dragging her into his arms.

“You’re welcome,” she said placidly, holding on tight.

Mat stormed past their little reunion and grabbed me by the shoulders. “What are you doing here? Do not tell me you were the one who threw that grenade.”

Well, I couldn’t tell him I wasn’t, so I remained silent. The shake he gave me wasn’t so little, and there was no warm hug after. “Talk about stupid and reckless.” But he rounded on Daria. “You! I can’t believe you brought her here.”

“Cool it,” Ivan said. “They saved our asses.”

Mat still had his hands on my shoulders, and we both realized at the same time that I was shaking. A delayed reaction to throwing my first ever grenade, or maybe the sight of all the blood.

“Are you hurt?” we both asked each other at the same time.

I started to go down, and Mat swept me into his arms, swearing in Russian as he carried me to our car. “I’m not done with you, Daria,” he shouted over his shoulder. She only waved.

He settled me in the seat and had a few quick words with the others before returning. “They’ll deal with what’s left to do here. I’m getting you back to the hotel. I can’t believe Daria would—”

The shaking subsided, and I swung around in my seat to fix him with my fiercest glare. “I think Ivan was right. Daria just might have saved your asses.”

“We had it under control. She never should have brought you here.”

“Oh, yeah, three of your cousins tied up looked pretty well under control to me. And you’re bleeding! And I saw you get shot at.” He grumbled, but I continued. “What a hypocrite, with all your talk about me not putting myself in danger. You could have been killed, Mat.”

I only ended my tirade because I ran out of breath. To my surprise, all he did was calmly start the engine and start driving back toward the hotel, a smug grin on his face.

“What?” I snapped, still on edge from what I’d seen. And done.

“It’s funny,” he said, still smiling. “I was beginning to think you might be happier as a widow.”

I had no answer for that. He just reached for my hand and laughed.