Page 3 of Tangled Vows

Something is definitely wrong with me. This is the second mental ass-kicking I give to myself in what? Five minutes? It must be the tension. It has to be the adrenaline that’s still pouring through my system. Nothing else makes sense...

Chapter Two

Ivan

I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, observing the young women bustling around the safe house. After getting them settled last night, my men brought over supplies and one of our trusted doctors to check them for injuries.

Physically? They’re in decent shape. None of those pigs had laid a hand on them. It’s their mental state that’s got me worried. I paid them two visits, and three of them jumped from their seats at the simple sound of the door opening. Okay, those hinges are a bit old and they creak, but that doesn’t explain why they freaked out like that. Fear and uncertainty are lingering in their eyes. Even someone with half my life experience would see that.

My gaze settles on Clare every now and again. Leonid can’t seem to look away from her either. I can’t say I blame him. Even dressed in an oversized tracksuit with her hair gathered in a ponytail, the woman is a stunner. But there’s more to her that has both of us intrigued: an inner strength that I spotted the second she spoke up in that dingy locked room. Everyone else was terrified to even utter a word. All they did was squeak and sniffle. Not Clare. She was upset, yes, but she kept her cool.

Leonid couldn’t stop staring after her SUV as it drove off last night. His eyes stayed on it for at least thirty seconds until it became a speck in the distance. Also, he nearly bit Yuri’s head off when we arrived here to check security protocols.

That’s not what I expected from my partner. More often than not, he keeps his shit together. In fact, he’s known throughout the Bratva as one of the most level-headed men. I can see he’s rather protective of that young woman already.

As for me? It’s strange, but I feel attracted to her. And that would’ve been fine, apart from one major reason.

Our lifestyle.

The life we lead is too damn dangerous. Falling in love sounds more like a death wish. To some, it sounds like a bad joke. They don’t need attachments. They’re just complications in a life that’s already too messed up. Still, seeing Clare’s strength in the face of trauma and violence sparks something unusual in me. I feel the need to ensure that she never has to go through the same terror again.

With a small sigh, I stride over to where Leonid and Dmitri stand by the front window, muttering about perimeter guards. Leonid gives me a tight nod. His shoulders look tense, even underneath his expensive black sweater. I know him well enough to recognize when something’s brewing behind that calm expression.

“How’re they holding up?” I ask Dmitri with a jerk of my chin towards the women.

He scrubs a hand through his beard, thinking how to respond. “As expected, sir. They’ve been through a lot, but they’re coping pretty good under the circumstances. I don’t know how long the Armenians had been keeping them, so there may be some psychological issues later.”

“And our security status?” I ask Leonid, shifting my attention to him.

“Air tight, now. No one gets within thirty yards of this place without me knowing about it.” His answer is sharp; he must’ve been waiting for that question.

I check the time on my watch, the silver sparkling under the sharp morning light. “The Pakhan wants an update. We’re expected there in thirty.”

Leonid’s jaw tightens. “And the women?”

“Malachi and his team will remain on guard duty with Dmitri. No one would dare cross them.” I hope the look in my eyes tells him I’m being honest. “They’re safe here, Leonid.”

He scans my face a long moment before jerking his head towards the front door. “Let’s not keep Viktor waiting then.”

The ride to the restaurant the Pakhan owns is short but tense. I can tell Leonid’s mind is still back at the safe house with the women rescued from captivity. That’s where mine is anyway. Or maybe he’s thinking about just one woman in particular. I think I need to distract him.

“So, what’s the deal with you and that gorgeous brunette?” I pose casually, keeping my eyes on the road. “She’s gotten under that tough skin of yours.”

Leonid doesn’t even attempt denial. He shouldn’t bother. We know each other too damn well. “Something about her stood out from the moment I laid eyes on her. Can’t explain it,” he claims, drumming his fingers on his thigh. “Have you ever come across anything like this in one of our raids before?”

“A group of frightened, abused women?” I shake my head. “Can’t say I have. I think the Armenians were prepping them for the sex trafficking racket or some type of fucked up auction.” My grip tightens on the steering wheel, thinking that this might well be true. It wouldn’t be the first or the last time those fuckers attempted something so horrible.

“It would explain why they were kept under lock and key in an otherwise empty warehouse,” Leonid mutters, his gaze on the road ahead.

I let off a slow exhale. This damn business makes my blood boil and pisses all over every moral code the Bratva abide by. Prostitution is one thing. The women who work our clubs do so willingly. We don’t force anyone to work for us. We treat the women with care, respect and we protect them against all sorts of assholes. If one of them gets violent with one of our girls, they get a taste of Bratva justice so harsh, they wish they’d stayed the fuck away. Those women lead comfortable, safe lives. What the girls in that warehouse had to go through? I don’t even want to imagine that.

We pull into the underground parking garage of the bustling restaurant and exit the Mercedes in tense silence. I straighten my navy suit jacket, checking that my twin holstered Glocks sit comfortably underneath. It’s never wise to visit the Pakhan unprepared.

Leonid waits for the elevator, sharp in an all-black suit and tie that matches his dark hair. The tailored clothing strains against muscles earned from years of combat training since he became Bratva at eighteen. I remember the scrawny teenager who showed up on Viktor Yelchin’s doorstep. Even then, his intensity and his ambition were obvious. He’d stood out amongst all the henchmen and was just dying to prove his loyalty to the boss.

Now, he oversees all of North Miami with expert precision. His cold control can—and often does—have our enemies scared shitless. His technical skill alone makes him invaluable to Viktor. Not to mention Leonid’s instincts have gotten us out of many potentially shitty deals.

The elevator doors slide open and we step into the small space. Leonid jabs the button for the restaurant floor, his ever-present Glock tucked under his jacket. As we ascend, I observe his clenched jaw and the tension emanating from his broad frame. In my opinion, he’s still desperate for a distraction. Business first, though—Pakhan waits for no one.

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