Page 84 of Baby for the Bratva

I hurry to the door, tucking the pregnancy test into my purse. I want to show proof to Yuri, but I’m not quite sure when to do it. Sooner is probably better, but that will certainly change the dynamic of our relationship.

There’s no way to keep it purely business if we’re having a baby together. Getting married is one thing, but starting a family is on a different level.

Besides, we haven’t succeeded in pausing our intimacy. If anything, we’ve become more desperate for each other since agreeing not to be intimate anymore.

All very confusing, but I have some time to think about it. I might actually just go get some lunch by myself before heading out to the cruise ship. That would give me a moment to fill my grumbling stomach and think about how I’m going to break the news to Yuri.

I’m totally lost in my thoughts as I step back out onto the sunny streets of Colombia, so much so that I don’t even notice the man standing by me with a knife in his hand.

Or the big white van idling on the curb beside the pharmacy.

39

Yuri

I knew something would happen. I want to punch myself in the fucking face for even letting Stella leave the ship. She was supposed to stay with her friend Molly, and that didn’t happen. Now, she’s missing, and we have no fucking clue who took her or why.

“Get every goddamn man off the ship and into the city. This is a code red situation. We’re going fucking nuclear,” I growl to Chekhov over the phone.

He was supposed to be watching over Stella with a few other men, but she ran off. Why she did that, we still don’t know, but when they caught up with her, it was too late. Some creep in a white van snatched her right off the street in broad daylight.

“Fuck,” I growl, hanging up the phone and shoving it into my pocket so hard that a few of the stitches pop.

Never in my life have I been this angry at myself. I’m almost too mad to do anything but curse under my breath and shuffle through my closet for a rifle that will do the most damage to the asshole who took her.

As far as Chekhov knows, there were only a few people involved in the kidnapping. There was obviously the driver of the van, and then just one guy who snatched her up. I’m not even sure if this has anything to do with me, but for the time being, I’m assuming it does.

After all, the bloodthirsty Brazilian businessman who put the bounty on my head is still alive. We haven’t gotten a clear hit on him yet, but that’s coming. It could be as soon as today that my men reach him and end his life, but that’s not going to mean much if I don’t have Stella.

She’s the only person that matters in this mess I’ve created. If I don’t have her, I have nothing. If anything happens to her, I’ll never be able to forgive myself.

I sling a rifle over my back that’s loaded with armor-piercing rounds. They’re the type that could travel through the side of a brick wall and still shred anyone standing on the other side. It’s loud as all hell, but it’ll get the job done.

I’m done being covert. I didn’t want to hit Colombian soil because of the bitter taste I left in my contact’s mouth after calling off his portion of the cocaine shipment, but I’m throwing caution to the wind.

If people have to die, then so be it, but it won’t be my precious Stella.

Shit, I won’t let them do that to her. I haven’t even had the opportunity to tell her that I love her. She should know after this. I hate that it took a kidnapping to get me to admit it, but maybe I won’t seem as crazy if I do admit it after I rescue her.

This is my chance to prove to her that she means more to me than business. She’s my everything, and I’d lay down my life to make sure she’s safe.

I don’t even try to hide the rifle strapped to my back as I exit my room and charge down the red carpeted hallway. This will be the last time I’m on this cruise ship. My cargo has already been sold, and all I need to do is grab Stella and leave.

We’ll be wed at one of my houses in Italy, and then we’ll head to the United States once our immigration documents go through.

Thinking about the wedding cools me down a bit. I’m still burning hot with rage and worry inside, but imagining a future with Stella takes the edge off things. I’m just scared that I’m going to lose her commitment after this is over.

The danger. The risk to her precious life.

She won’t be able to see the Bratva lifestyle in the same way, and I don’t know if I’ll be able to convince her to stay. The money won’t work. It has to come from the heart, and I’m just not sure she’s as in love with me as I’m in love with her.

My footsteps fall heavy with the weight of our uncertain future as I leave the cruise ship. The air outside is oppressively hot, but I power through it, jumping into an armored car that was meant for my trip to visit the Colombian dealer.

I thought it wouldn’t be useful now that the deal is off, but I was wrong and I’m not at all happy about it.

My phone rings as I settle into the white leather seat beside my driver. I sling my rifle onto my lap before answering the phone.

It’s Chekhov again. “Sir, we have a location on Stella. She’s heading down 14th street, moving south out of the city.”

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