Page 47 of Kidnapped Bratva Toy

A shiver ran through me at his words, but stranger was the part of my brain that understood the logic. It was cold, severe, and rigid. You fucked with him or his, and you were taken out. You worked the system to the detriment of him and his, and you were taken out.

There was a jilted part of me that knew too much about how the legal system in America worked—that wanted that kind of cut-and-dry justice. With proof, anyway. And funnily enough, Pietor seemed to be making sure I got it in spades.

The cab had been quiet for some time now, and I cleared my throat before I broke that silence with another question. And even I was feeling like they were a bit much at this point. But I was naturally curious, and it was impossible to stop myself from asking about every detail.

“So, where is this meet-up?”

Pietor laughed again, shaking his head. “You do ask a lot of questions, counselor.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I’m aware. Humor me.”

“2319 happens to be the address to a club that’s most well known for being a front. Since you’ll be going with me, I’m afraid you’ll need to look like eye candy. It’ll be filled to the rafters with mafia thugs and maybe even a few bosses, particularly if Cohen is there to deliver details.”

Cocking a brow at him, I looked out the dash again as we continued to make steady progress to the store he was dragging me to.

“Club, huh? Well, it seems like several people like to use them.” I glanced over with a smirk. “Don’t they?”

Pietor scoffed, pulling a hand off the wheel to flatten against his chest in mock outrage. “Well, I never.”

I laughed, my body shaking as I tried and failed to fight it back.

“For your information, miss,” He glared at me like he was some southern woman at court, “Delerium is at least a good club, and our employees aren’t expected to put out for customers or ‘old friends of the owners.’”

My chuckle died as I considered those implications. “That’s disgusting.”

“Yeah, well, like I said, a lot of people suck.”

“And what exactly am I going to need to wear to…” I left the space for Pietor to fill in the name.

“RainBooms. And I think you’re going to need something a little more…” He ran his eyes over me quickly, and despite everything, my entire body was still warmed to be beneath his gaze. “Waterproof.”

However, my stomach dropped, and I frowned as I raised my brows at Pietor.

“Oh, no. I’m not going to like this. Am I?”

He shook his head. “No. But I will.”

***

Going by the surroundings, I was pretty sure we were in some type of sex shop. There was no way that the clothing in here wasn’t designed explicitly for bedroom activities or stripping.

“Pietor, I’m not wearing this stuff. I’ll fall out of everything.”

I held up a crisscrossing bit of plastic fabric that was trying to pass off as a dress but was more holes than an actual garment. Pietor looked over at me, my eyebrows raised to my hairline and just chuckled.

“If you want to get busted as a narc, that’s on you then.”

His voice was completely steady and gentle, but I could just pick out the seriousness in his eyes. I really did need to “blend in,” and apparently, that meant dressing like a dominatrix.

“Fine, fine. Okay, I’ll take this one to the fitting rooms. Will you tell me if I look stupid, at least?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth turning down. “Of course, but I highly doubt it. Have you seen you?”

That flattery was too much again, my heart zinging around my body like it was a rocket trying to take off for the moon. I felt my cheeks burn as I lowered my stare to the ground, pulling out the one dress I thought could handle my curves.

I walked to the back of the store, where the curtained stalls were, and Pietor followed right behind me. He gave me a quick pat on the ass as I hesitated at the open fitting room, and I squeaked quietly as I almost stumbled forward.

“Hey!” I yelled in a whisper.

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