Page 41 of The Bratva's Secret Twins

“Wear a hoodie,” I said to her. “I can’t risk anyone recognizing you.”

“Aye, captain.” She kissed me for a couple of more seconds before finally stepping away.

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While I drove around town, she rolled down her window, breathed the fresh air, and sighed in satisfaction.

“Now, this feels good,” she said happily.

I glanced at her, and her legs were shaking. I’d noticed this earlier in the drive but didn’t think it was something to be worried about.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, this time more out of concern, less of curiosity.

She turned to me, and I could tell she was embarrassed and unable to look me directly in the eyes.

“What is it? I reiterated.

“I couldn't tell you earlier because I was…well, I was embarrassed,” she replied, a little bit shy.

“Milaya, spit it out already.” I was growing impatient.

She managed to look at me and said, “I…I got a UTI.”

Shit!

I didn’t know much about the biology of a woman, but I did know that a Urinary Tract Infection mainly was common amongst sexually active women. So, in a way, this was my fault.

“I’d like to use the restroom, please,” she requested, her thighs shaking.

One of the symptoms of UTI was frequent urination, and now, she was pressed.

I glanced around, and there was a public restroom just across the street.

“Hold on.” I swerved the vehicle and sped over there.

My car’s tires crunched over the gravel as I brought it to a halt.

“Go.”

She was about to step out when I added, “Flip that hood over your head.”

She nodded subtly and did as she was told before stepping out. “I'll be back shortly.”

I watched her rush quietly to the restroom, get in, and lock the door from inside while I waited for her in the car.

Seated there with my eyes on the restroom door, I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. I checked my watch, noting that she seemed to be taking a long time.

Hold on. If she had a UTI, why didn't she mention this earlier? She must have been in some kind of pain and needed medical attention. It doesn’t make any sense that….

Then, it hit me. I’d been played. She was pretending to have a UTI so she would have some time to herself—alone. This was her plan: to get me to bring her outside, and then, she’d flee.

“Fuck!” I rushed out of the car and ran toward the restroom.

With a heavy kick, the door flung open, revealing nothing but emptiness and an open window.

She’d escaped.

“Fuck!”

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