Page 14 of Claimed By the Bratva Brothers

“Oh?”

“What did you tell him?” he asks.

I cross my arms, anger becoming predominant in the flurry of mixed emotions currently swirling through me. “Why? Are you worried I ratted you out?”

“Not at all,” he shoots back with a confident smirk that causes heat to gather between my legs. “I’m simply curious.”

“Are you okay?” Artur asks me. “You look stressed.”

“You think?” I hiss, ignoring my infuriating arousal at their presence. “It’s not every day I’m interrogated by the FBI. Of course I’m stressed!”

“Why? You’re not the one who kidnapped Bowman,” Max replies.

I give him a hard look. “Are you serious right now? Keep your voice down!”

“You need to loosen up,” he laughs lightly and comes closer. Ivan and Artur watch, visibly amused, as Max closes the distance between us. His lips are dangerously appetizing, his cologne quick to invade my nostrils as I look up at him. “You had nothing to do with any of it.”

“Maybe not but I know who did it, thanks to you,” I say.

“So do they,” he replies.

I frown slightly. “Smith said he could have walked away on his own, that they haven’t received any ransom request or anything else indicating he was taken.”

“Smith lied. It’s why we followed him here. He knows we have Bowman,” Max states.

I shake my head and take a couple of steps back. “Okay, tell you what. I don’t want to know anything about it. Plausible deniability is a real thing, and I intend to make the most of it when the three of you inevitably end up in front of a judge. I will not be dragged into the Russian mob’s dirty business.”

“Actually, you kind of dragged yourself into it the minute you accepted our proposal,” Max says. “But you don’t have to worry about anything, Lyric. That was the last you’ll see of SSA Smith. I promise.”

“As long as you keep your end of the bargain,” Ivan reminds me.

I’m tempted to give him a proper sneer, but as soon as our eyes meet, I lose myself in the depth of those dark pools. I’m conquered by the memory of him pounding into me, his fingers loosely wrapped around my neck as he bent me over and gave me everything he had.

I take a deep breath and manage to look away, but Max isn’t cutting me any slack, either. His hand comes up, knuckles subtly brushing against my shoulder. I can feel his warmth through the white satin of my shirt. His touch sends sparks flying through my core.

“Those are dangerous thoughts you’re having,” he says, his voice low and burning hot.

“What thoughts?” I whisper.

“You know exactly what thoughts. They’re written all over your face, Lyric. What happened at the hotel between us was a one-time only kind of thing. You’re too sweet, too pure, for who we are and what we do.”

“Then what, you’re just here to threaten me?”

“Threaten you? Never. Call it micromanagement, at worst,” he replies, the shadow of a smile dancing across his face. “It’s best if you forget about us, Lyric. You don’t belong in our world.”

“It’s mightily audacious of you to presume I want anything to do with you,” I say.

The three of them give me one last look before they turn around and leave. I hold my breath, waiting for them to walk out the front door. Much like with Smith before, it’s not until they’re out of my sight that I am able to regain my senses.

A few days pass in relative silence.

I do my best to pretend that everything is okay. I know I am innocent and did nothing wrong. Technically speaking, that is true if I’m to disregard what I said to SSA Smith. Or, better yet, what I didn’t say.

It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m in the clear. Whatever the guys do with Bowman, it’s their business, not mine. I’ve got an algorithm to hone, a paper to write, a doctorate degree to earn. Bigger fish to fry.

I keep telling myself that but all I can think about is what happened in that executive suite. Whatever switch they flipped on me, I’m starting to worry that they’re the only ones who can flip it back off. But do I want that? Max, Ivan, and Artur lit a blazing fire inside of me, and it burns so sweet, so scorching hot, I need more.

Shelby keeps me apprised of the Bowman situation through text messages. Although they know nothing about the information I have, I’m still riddled with uncomfortable emotions. I’ve added all the data I have on the matter into my computerized algorithm.

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