Page 11 of The Bratva's Nanny

Don’t panic, Maria.

Don’t panic.

I rubbed my palms. Squeezed my fingers. Forced a smile on my face when the bright and early students passed by, yelling loud greetings. But nothing worked.

In and out.

I exhaled and was on the verge of blowing up like a freaking dynamite when three sleek black Mercedes pulled up, each lining up behind the other. And when two men stepped down from each of the cars, dressed like the crazy combination of Men in Black from The Matrix, gone were the thoughts of hand dryers and loan sharks.

I assessed the convoy: gleaming rooftops under the morning sun, black-tinted windows, and, of course, the nanny.

Before the student came out with her golden glow and signature smile, I already knew who it was. The grand entrance announced her identity.

Polina R. Varkov.

If I needed any more convincing, the entourage was more than enough proof that she belonged to high society.

I couldn’t suppress it; my excitement level at seeing the little blonde girl boosted to over a hundred. In a short time, we had grown a friendship—I liked to call it—that possibly had more impact on my life than hers. The kid was just a breath of fresh air. It was nearly impossible for anyone not to appreciate her optimism and high spirits.

Her regular bodyguards—I’d learned their names were Kian and Evgeni—assumed their spots behind her, and her nanny walked by her side.

Polly caught my stare, and the corner of her lips pulled up even wider. I signaled her with a thumbs up. It was our way of greeting each other from a distance, and when she was close, we’d share a special handshake that we’d made up.

They’d almost made it past the park when, suddenly, and from almost out of nowhere, random shots were fired. Deafening ricochets of bullets cut through the silence in the air. Children in the classrooms screamed, and those yet to come out of their cars had their parents turn around and zoom off.

I dropped to my knees, my hands over my ears, and, in horror, watched Kian fall to the ground and Evgeni stagger and sway sidewards. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach at the sight of red flowing on the asphalt.

They’d been hit. And they’d been hit pretty badly.

Kian had taken a headshot, and Evgeni had two bullets in the side.

I wasn’t sure how to feel or react. But that was not until I made a quick scan and noticed that the nanny was among the many who had fled the parking lot. The realization hit me, and I was on my feet at the speed of lightning. Polina was there, standing all alone, screaming and searching but having nowhere to run.

The other men in black had guns out and were already firing randomly at the intruders. But their aims were not accurate enough, or else a black van wouldn’t have drifted to the center, opened their side door, and picked up a shrieking Polina.

Picked up Polina?

Fuck, no.

Those hoodlums had fucking kidnapped her!

They’d kidnapped her.

Everything happened so fast. My head was swimming, my heart was racing, and the adrenaline was revving up in my veins. When the door swung shut, I immediately entered flight or fight mode. But deep down in my heart, I knew exactly what I would do.

Fuck flight. I was going after those shitheads.

Thankfully, I’d chosen comfortable work clothes for classes today: stretchy skinny jeans and a white blouse. If I had to, I was going to put a bit of dirt on that white, but who fucking cared? Polly’s life was in danger.

In seconds, without processing any further thoughts, I was on the curb and in my car. And it was not surprising to see George running after me, chasing the car’s tail, waving his arms, and trying to stop me. I shifted the rearview mirror. It couldn’t be that ol’ George cared a hoot about me. Definitely those darn—

No time to think.

I put the gear in top speed and gripped the steering wheel tightly, my heart racing as I floored it. My sweet companion surged forward, and for a second, I thought it wasn’t strong enough to take the extra push. But the engine gave a healthy roar, throwing my doubt out the window.

Ahead, the van swerved and dodged, trying to shake me off its tail. Through their windows, they opened rapid fire and rained bullets on my windshield.

I ducked and cringed when part of the glass didn’t hold for very long. From small cracks, glass splinters flew, and I knew it wouldn’t last if they didn’t cease fire soon.

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