Page 20 of Escaping the Bratva

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“That woman is going to fucking kill you,” Marcello says as I look at the dog sitting behind the metal gate. The shelter takes in dogs they find on the street and rehabilitate them before allowing them to be adopted. The small pit bull comes right up to me and licks the hand I have sticking through the gate. It looks like he was underfed at some point, and the shelter is working on getting him back to a healthy weight.

“She likes dogs,” I say.

“If she likes dogs that much, she’d have one. Why don’t you get her a cute puppy if you’re going to get her a dog?”

I stand to my feet. “She won’t have time to potty train a puppy. Plus, I want a dog that’s going to look after her.”

Marcello smiles. “You mean because she won’t let you around her yet?”

I shoot him a look and start walking down the cement hallway.

“So what happened the other night?” he asks.

I shrug. “I told her everything, and she’s still pissed at me for a mistake I made twelve years ago.”

“Ouch.”

I knew it was going to be hard to get Sasha to give me a second chance, but I didn’t imagine it would be this difficult to get her to even talk to me. If I could go back in time, I’d punch my twenty-one-year-old self right in the face, but it probably wouldn’t make a difference. I was hard-headed then…not much has changed.

“Hi! Is there one you’d like to see close up?” The woman at the front desk says as we walk up to it.

“The pit bull in cage five. I want to adopt him.”

Her eyes widen in surprise before a smile spreads across her face. “Of course. We just got him in a couple weeks ago. He’s still on some medication to help with his appetite, but that’s covered by your adoption fee.”

I nod as she walks me through the paperwork and tells me about all their training programs. I take the brochures. I’m sure Sasha will want to get the dog into training. That's just the kind of person she is. She wants her life to be picture perfect, including her dog. That’s why I could never fit into the picture. I didn’t fit into her perfect life in college, and I still don’t. But now, I’m not putting her in danger. I can actually fight for her. I can show her we don’t have to be perfect.

I walk out of the shelter with a handful of paperwork in one hand and a dog leash in the other. Marcello holds a big bag of dog food that the shelter gives out with all adoptions. The pit bull looks hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he can trust me. I don’t blame him. I open the back door to the Escalade I just bought it a couple days ago. I made sure to get custom wheels and interior.

“Come on,” I say to the dog, patting the seat. He looks up at me with wide eyes, his tail tucked between his legs. Shit, the thing is terrified.

Marcello chuckles. “Good job picking out a protector.”

I glare at him. “Give me some of that dog food.”

He reaches in the bag and gives me a handful of the dry food. I crouch down next to the dog and offer up one piece. It takes him a while, but he slowly takes a pebble of food from between my fingers. I keep feeding him small pebbles of food on the sidewalk until his tail comes untucked from between his legs. I set the last of the food onto the backseat, and immediately, the dog jumps inside. I shut the door before he can jump back out and round the car to the driver’s side. Marcello types on his phone as I start the car before pulling out onto the street. We drive in silence. I check the rearview mirror frequently to make sure the dog isn’t freaking out. That’s when I notice the blue car following us. I take a sharp turn, and when the car stays a few paces behind me, I let out a frustrated breath.

“What?” Marcello asks sitting up straight.

“We got a fucking tail. Blue car.”

He checks the mirrors. “Damn. Are you packin’?”

“I’m a felon on parole.”

“Shit.”

“Check the glovebox,” I say while speeding up.

Marcello gives me a look and I shrug. Old habits die hard. He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the three-inch barrel 9mm handgun.

“See if you can get a license plate or a good look at their face. I’m going to try to lose them.”

I take a sharp right as the light turns yellow, but the car speeds right through the red to stay on us.

“Fuck. You see anything?” I ask Marcello.

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