Page 18 of Baby for the Bratva

Chekhov’s eyes shift away from me immediately. The wallpaper suddenly seems quite interesting to him. “Very weird, but we’re glad it’s not our Yuri.”

“Super glad,” I agree sarcastically.

“Then you will also be glad that the killer has been apprehended, and he’s currently being removed from the ship. We should be on our way again shortly.”

“Oh,” I say, straightening up a bit. “That’s good news.”

“Certainly is.”

“Did we get a motive?”

Chekhov’s eyes shift away from me again, and I know he’s holding back information. This whole ordeal has been one crazy, confusing mess, and Yuri and his supposed brother know far more about it than they’re letting on.

“I don’t know anything about the motive,” Chekhov says.

I sigh. “Okay, thanks anyway, I guess.”

Chekhov smiles. “You’re welcome.”

I’m about to close the door on him when the door beside me opens, and Molly pokes her head out. “Did I hear something about the shooting?”

I’m actually quite happy to see her. Yuri and Chekhov make her odd behavior seem normal, and being surrounded by men is starting to bother me. Maybe she can talk some sense into me and save me from falling into one of Yuri’s traps. It’s clear he’s still trying to win me over.

“They apprehended the killer,” I blurt before Chekhov can open his mouth. “Maybe you want to get room service and talk about the juicy details.”

A grin spreads over her face. “Thought you’d never ask.”

I flash a bitchy smile to Chekhov, leaving him in the hallway and joining Molly in her room. I didn’t think it was such a big deal that she had a TV and I didn’t, but now I’m realizing just how much I missed ruining my vision by staring at a screen while stuffing my face with junk food.

The killer has been caught, and the drama is mostly over. I can start over tomorrow, and I still have the entire month to forget about both Tyler and Yuri.

9

Yuri

“I’m not trying to marry her or anything,” I grumble, flipping through channels as Chekhov sits at the edge of my bed, looking through the limited room service menu. I didn’t want him in my room before, but now that I know Stella isn’t coming around tonight, I could use his company. He’s the closest thing to a friend that I have.

Chekhov looks up at me with a slight frown, putting down the menu. “You seem emotionally attached. That’s all. Maybe it’s a better idea to pursue someone else. Plenty of pretty girls in bikinis on this cruise.”

I’m not going to admit to him that I am emotionally attached. I shouldn’t be, considering it’s been less than twenty-four hours and I barely know Stella, but chemistry doesn’t need time. It’s immediate and explosive.

The only problem is that it’s exploding right in my face.

“Bikinis are one thing, but Stella is… very beautiful. She’d look good in a potato sack.”

Chekhov laughs. “She did look nice in her towel.”

Ah yes, the towel. It’s because she immediately went right back into her room and touched herself in the shower after arguing with me. That kind of shit drives me crazy. If she wants me like that, why can’t she just admit it and drop the bitchy act?

It must be something from her past, or more likely someone. A failed relationship will have you putting up walls even against the nicest people. I would know because I had my fair share of heartbreaks in my twenties.

That was when I had a heart. Now, I don’t, and I like it better that way. Nobody can get to me. Not even Stella.

“Order some drinks,” I say to Chekhov as he looks back down at the menu. “We need to get drunk.”

He shrugs. “I guess the danger is mostly gone.”

Mostly is right. It’s never completely gone, but with the shooter off the boat and our cruise underway again, we’re as safe as we can be right now.

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