Page 12 of Escaping the Bratva

V

I almost didn’t recognize her at first. Her body has changed from a freshman in college to a full-grown woman. The short dress she wears highlights every single curve. It pisses me off that she was wearing that in a club filled with men who were probably staring at her all night. Her lips are just as thick and full as I remember. Those brown almond-shaped eyes can hypnotize a man. The pictures that I had Oscar, our computer guy, pull up of her didn’t do justice. She’s every man’s wet dream.

I’m relieved to see that she still has that fiery attitude. I was scared she might have lost that. I need a woman like her. Someone who won’t put up with my bullshit. In the backseat, her friend keeps babbling on about something, but I’m not paying her any attention. My eyes keep switching back and forth from the road and my Sasha, sleeping with her head against the cool window. I wonder what she’s been doing since I left college. She’s obviously made a name for herself in the advertising world like she’s always wanted. I resisted the urge to keep track of her until I got out of prison.

“I’m the second house on the left,” the woman in the backseat says. I pull the car onto the street and wait for her to get out.

“Come on,” she says to Sasha, shaking her shoulder lightly to try to wake her up. Sasha moans in response but makes no move to wake up.

“I can take her home,” I say.

Her friend looks at me with wide eyes. “I don’t fucking think so. I don’t even know who you are.”

I nod. Valid point. “Here.” I hand her my driver’s license. “I’m in your car, you have my driver’s license. If something were to happen, the police will be able to find me in two seconds with that information.”

She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, probably debating if she can trust me.

“I’m her ex-boyfriend, not a psychopath.”

Hesitantly, she takes the driver's license from my hand, takes a picture of it with her phone and gives it back. I have a feeling that if she wasn’t under the influence, this would have been a much bigger fight. I want to tell the woman to never leave Sasha alone with a man—it’s stupid, really—but that would be contradicting myself.

“If you touch a hair on her head, I will fucking kill you,” she slurs before stumbling out of the car. I wait to make sure she gets inside the two-story home first before driving towards Sasha’s apartment. She lives in Belltown, smackdab in the middle of the busiest part of the city. I’m not surprised by that. She always liked to be surrounded by people, even if it was people she didn’t know. I’m lucky enough to find a spot in front of her apartment building.

She lifts her head up as I put the tiny car in park. She looks over at me, her eyes bloodshot.

“I need your key, kitten,” I say as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

She opens her mouth to say something, but then it seems like she gives up. She reaches into the small clutch and pulls out a key, complete with a keyring covered in key chains from many different states before handing it over to me. There are only four keys on it, but she could do some damage if she hit someone with this thing. I shut the engine off and help her out of the car. She leans her body weight on me, and I’m glad for the fact that there’s no one on the street or else I might get the cops called on me for how suspicious we look. We make it to her condo on the top floor of the building. The space is decorated with bursts of colors. There are purple, green, and blue wall, decorated with colorful paintings. There’s no real color scheme or theme for the space, but it's completely Sasha. I almost smile at the thought.

“I have to pee,” she mumbles. She reaches down and starts to take off her shoes, still leaning against me for support.

“You need help?” I ask. She looks up at me and rolls her eyes.

“I think I can pee on my own.”

I’m not one-hundred-percent sure I believe her, but I stay back as she walks down the hall barefoot and goes into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she comes back and continues down the hall. I follow behind her into her bedroom. She falls on the unmade bed and immediately starts to snore.

I can’t help the smile this time. I try to ignore the fact that her dress hikes up, revealing the gold panties underneath. I slowly grab the blanket from under her and cover her up. She doesn’t flinch as I move her so that she’s lying on her side, just in case she has to throw up. Then, I take a seat in a chair in the corner of her room. She’ll be pissed when she wakes up and sees me sitting here, but the last thing I want is for her to choke on her own vomit. So I sit back in the chair and wait until morning.

“What the fuck?!” The sound of her hoarse voice makes me look up from the phone in my hand. She sits up in the bed as if she’s just been electrocuted and not like she was just out drinking until the morning hours.

“Ouch,” she says, realizing her mistake as she grabs on to her head. Her purple hair is wild and frizzy, like she’s been rolling around bed. What I would give to roll around the bed with her again…

“There’s water and Advil right next to you.”

She looks over at the glass of water and the white pills sitting next to it. “This has to be a dream, right? V Kustov sitting in my bedroom…”

“You don’t remember last night?”

She looks under the cover, as if checking to make sure her clothes are still on.

I scoff. “Seriously?” I stand up from the chair and grab the water from her nightstand. “Drink.”

She looks hesitant but, after a moment, takes a sip.

“All of it.”

She glares at me but finishes the glass. “Why are you here?”

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