Page 21 of Escaping the Bratva

“Nothing. Windows are tinted, and they don’t have plates, at least not on the front.”

“Shit.”

Who the fuck would be trailing me? All my enemies were left behind when I went to prison.

“Hold on,” I bark out as I merge onto the highway, pressing my foot down on the gas hard enough that I pass most of the other cars. I weave through the Seattle mid-day traffic. There’s no way that small car will be able to keep up. After several miles, I jerk the wheel and turn onto the exit. I fly through the intersection and turn onto a side street. The dog whimpers.

“I think we’ve lost them,” Marcello says.

I run a hand over my head. “What the fuck was that about?”

“I have no idea.”

Well, shit. I guess leaving my past behind might not be as easy as I thought it would be.

We drop the dog off at Sasha’s apartment, which I use a bobby pin to get into. I leave the dog food on the counter with a note that I’m sure she won’t appreciate, but I don’t care. Now she’ll have a reason to leave work and come home at a decent time. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s a workaholic, and what better way to get a workaholic to take a break than giving them a dog they have to feed and take outside. After leaving her apartment, we head downtown to the building where we’ve rented an office space. It’s nothing big, but it’s enough to fit me, Marcello, and Oscar, the computer guy, as well as an area to meet with clients. It's enough room to get us started. I sit at a table across from Marcello. This life already feels so much different than the one I lived before. Before I went to prison, my days consisted of meeting with men who’d killed more people than Ted Bundy and threatening people who owed me money. I had an entire organization that worked under me, and my arms dealing business brought in millions of dollars. Now I’m playing the part of an up and coming business owner.

“We launch in two weeks. We’re going to need some publicity in order to get our first clients,” Marcello says. He’s much better at this shit than I am. In the underworld, publicity means taking out your competition and making a show of it.

“Sasha owns the biggest marketing firm in this city…and from what I hear, she has access to a lot of A-listers. That could be our foot in the door.”

My ears perk up at his suggestions. “You want us to hire her?”

“It would help.”

She might be able to shut me out of her personal life, but she won’t be able to turn me down as a client.

I smile. “I’ll stop by her office tomorrow.”

Marcello lets out a chuckle. “Of course you will.”

My phone rings, and Sasha’s name flashes across the screen. “Speak of the devil,” I say before getting up from the table. “Hey, kitten.”

“V.” I can already hear the irritation in her voice. I walk over to the one window we have and look out at the street below. “Why is there a dog in my living room?”

“Did you read the note?”

“He’s fucking terrified! What did you do to him?!”

Anger courses through my blood. “You really think I’d hurt a dog?”

I’ve murdered more people than I can count, but they all deserved it. I never touched an innocent.

She let out a sigh. “No…it's just…why? Why are you doing all this? You know I can’t turn away this scared little thing.” Her voice comes out defeated. Good. Maybe that means I’m making some progress.

“You said you didn’t have anything to come home to. Now you do. I haven’t named him yet. I put some training flyers on the counter. The shelter said he’s already potty trained.”

She goes silent for a moment. I’d give anything to read her thoughts right now. All she says is,

“Okay”

My lips tug, but I hold back my smile. I’ll take that as a win.

“I gotta go, kitten,” I say. She hangs up without saying goodbye, and I give in to my smile.

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