Page 41 of The Bratva's Kidnapped Bride

A small town. Thank fuck.

There are people walking around who stare at me, probably because of the way I’m dressed and how dirty I look. A few cars are traveling up and down the main road. Most buildings are still closed, and people are just walking their dogs. I need to find a place that might have a phone; otherwise, I’m at the mercy of knocking on house doors and looking for one.

I see an open sign flashing down the road and realize it belongs to the bar. Maybe there’s a pay phone in there that I can use. I walk in and look around. There’s a group of five guys sitting at the bar nursing drinks, and that’s it—just a bunch of barflies. I don’t see a pay phone anywhere, so I walk up to the bar.

“If you’re not buying, you’re not welcome,” the bartender says gruffly.

“I just need to use a phone, please. Can you direct me to one?” I ask.

“We don’t have a pay phone in here, not in town. And I’m not letting you rack up charges on the bar phone for my boss to get pissed off about. Now you’re either buying a drink or leaving.” He looks at me pointedly.

“Aw, leave her alone, Gus.” It’s one of the men nursing a beer. He gets up and walks over to me, putting an arm around me. “She’s just a little ol’ thing. She can’t hurt anyone.”

I shrug him off. “I need to call someone to pick me up,” I explain to the bartender. “They can pay you back for the call, I assure you.”

“The answer’s no.” The bartender goes back down the bar.

The guy standing next to me strokes my back, causing me to shiver. “Why don’t you come have a drink with us? Then you won’t have to worry about going home straight away.”

“Yeah, come have a drink with us. We’ll even buy one for you.” It’s one of his friends at the end of the bar. “Gus here will pour you a beer, and you can sit down and tell us your story.”

The guy next to me, a tall blond with a beer gut, grabs my arm tight enough to bruise it and tugs. “Come on. Come with us.”

“Please, I need to go. I need to find a phone to use. It’s an emergency.” I try to tug my arm away. “Let go of me.”

“Let her go,” one of the men says. My phone’s in my car. Come on with me. You can use it.”

“Thank you,” I say, relieved as I’m let go. “Thank you so much.”

I follow the dark, tall stranger out of the bar and around the corner to where a few trucks are parked. He opens the one and picks up a cell phone.

“Now, how are you going to pay me back for using this?” he asks.

I should have known that no one does anything for free. “I’ll gladly give you a hundred dollars for your trouble once they pick me up.”

He pockets his phone and grabs my hips. “Maybe there’s something else I want.” He pulls me against him and grinds against me.

I can taste bile rising in my throat as I try to push him away. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea, but that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh, I’m going to make it happen. You can be sure of that,” he growls, grabbing me by the neck and choking me. “You’re going to suck my cock off, or I’ll give you the beatdown of your life.”

Suddenly, he’s yanked off me and tossed against the truck parked next to his.

It’s Arseny.

He found me.

And not a moment too soon.

Something flashes in his hand, and I realize he is holding a knife.

“Nobody touches what’s mine,” he threatens the man. He’s so quick I barely see his arm move, but the man cries out as a cut appears on his face. Arseny swings again, this time cutting the back of the man's hand. More blood gushes out. Arseny kicks him in the ribs, not once, not twice, but three times, and there’s a definite crunch that last time as something snaps.

Arseny grabs him by the throat and holds him close. “Next time, I’ll cut off your dick and shove it down your throat.”

Then he head-butts him, and the man falls to the ground unconscious.

The knife quickly disappears, and he turns to me. He grabs my arm, drags me around the corner into an alley, and pushes me up against the wall. “You ran away.”

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