Page 38 of Escaping the Bratva

I raise an eyebrow. “Since when can you cook?”

She rolls her eyes. “Since I couldn’t afford to go out to restaurants every night while I was trying to get my business off the ground. Nothing fancy, but I can do the basics. Come on. I’ve been in the house all day. Let's just run to the grocery store.”

She pouts, and I hate the effect it has on me. I shouldn’t risk her leaving the house, especially since I don’t have an army to protect me like I used to. If we were targeted, it would just be me against Brighton or one of his men.

“I’ll even make dessert.”

“Fine,” I mumble as my stomach starts to ache with hunger. I hadn’t gotten a chance to eat because I spent the rest of the day at the office trying to come up with a plan to get rid of Brighton.

Her face lights up, and she grabs her sandals from beside the kitchen island. I assume this is where she’s been working today, considering her laptop is still cracked open and there’s papers everywhere. I guess she found my printer as well.

“Is this how you always work?” I ask, waving a hand at the island. I don’t remember the desk at her office being this crazy.

She bends down to pull her sandals on. “Only when I’m brainstorming. Organized chaos helps me think clearer.” She stands back up and starts to walk to the door.

“Grab Teddy,” I tell her. If we do run into trouble, I’d like some back up. She looks at me confused but doesn’t say anything before grabbing a leash and getting Teddy hooked up. I put my shoes back on and we’re out the door.

I choose the grocery store closest to my house. It's a tiny place, but it should have everything she needs. After putting the SUV in park, I quickly scan the parking lot. There aren't many people besides a few businessmen who look like they’re picking up a couple things before going home to their spouses. I get out and Sasha follows behind me into the store.

“Let’s be quick. I don’t want Teddy to get cold,” she says while grabbing a cart.

I nod and follow after her as she strolls down the aisles grabbing ingredients as she goes.

“What are you making?” I ask when she picks up a bag of potatoes.

“Homemade French fries and burgers.”

I chuckle. “We could have ordered burgers.”

“Homemade is way better.”

“I’m surprised you eat that kind of stuff,” I say. She’s always been careful about what she eats, even when we were in college. The only exception to her whole, organic food rule were skittles and coffee.

She places the potatoes in the cart and continues down the aisle. “Usually, I don’t.”

She doesn’t offer up any more of an explanation, but I get the feeling she’s letting herself off the hook and allowing herself to be free. I follow behind her the rest of our shopping trip with my hands in my pockets, continuously scanning for danger. It's been a long ass time since I’ve had to look over my shoulder like this, and I can’t say I like it. The gun at my waist feels especially heavy when I’m with her. There’s also the fact that if I got caught with a weapon, I’d be going straight back to prison, but it was worth the risk.

I look to see Sasha staring at me.

“Huh?” I ask like a fucking idiot.

“I said, what kind of ice cream do you like?”

“Ice cream? It's freezing outside.”

“It won’t be bad once you put it on the cobbler.”

My stomach rumbles as if on cue. “Cobbler?”

She lets out a frustrated breath before grabbing a pint of vanilla ice cream from the freezer. Before she can start pushing the cart again, I grab her waist. Sasha lets out a yelp, causing the old woman at the end of the aisle to jump before her face lifts into a small smile.

“I’m so fucking hungry,” I say into her ear.

“Obviously, since you haven’t heard a word of what I’ve been saying to you.”

“I can make it up to you.” I move my hand under her shirt. I feel the bare skin of her stomach.

She squirms out of my hold with a giggle. “Stop it. I’m trying to focus.”

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