Page 34 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“Yeah, but those bullets could have landed anywhere,” I counter right back.

“But theydidn’t.” The argument continues.

I throw my arms up in the air. “Fine, maybe this isn’t going to work out after all.”

“Yeah, maybe it’s not.” David parks in his designated garage spot by the condo and cuts the engine.

His words cut deep. I don’t know what I am expecting him to say, but it isn’t that. Maybe I assumed he would fight for me, defend me, apologize for what happened tonight. Instead, he’s looking at me as if I’m terrorizing him like an obnoxious sibling might.

“What’sthatsupposed to mean?” I try to keep the hurt out of my voice, but I fail, miserably.

A sliver of regret shadows David’s face. His voice is calm now that we’re no longer in imminent danger, but there’s still a bite to his tone. “Look, I’m not trying to offend you or anything but…”

He trails off and I laugh. “That’s exactly what someone says before they offend the person.”

“Just listen,” he says, his eyes pleading.

“Fine.” I cross my arms and stare straight ahead, noticing how clean the garage is. It’s nearly empty, save for a few Tupperware boxes stacked on shelves in the corner.

“Maybe this job isn’t for you,” David says.

I turn my head in his direction. “What job?”

“Any of it. Being around the bratva to get a story. It’s too dangerous for you, and you get too stressed out,” he explains.

I stare at him, jaw hanging open. “I got shot at, and before that, men dragged me into a warehouse and tried to kill me. Excuse me for being a little on edge.”

“I’m not defending what happened to you,” David says. “It was awful, yes, but you can’t handle the danger. That’s all I’m saying.”

“So, what do you suggest, then? You are the one who told me we should get out of the house and go into the field so I can get better research on what you do.”

“Yes, and I am seeing now that it was a mistake. Maybe it’s just not safe for you to shadow me in my job responsibilities.” David looks down at his lap as he says it. “Perhaps you should go back to your boss and tell him you changed your mind, that you wantto stick to the smaller stories where there is no risk involved for you.”

Tears sting behind my eyes and my throat is tight, but I bury the emotions as deep as I can, a sniffle escaping in the process. “I can’t do that. Robert would never let me, anyway. Even if he did, I’d never live it down. He would bully me forever.”

“Maybe that’s not a boss you should be working for, then,” David says sharply. “One who bullies you.”

“He just wants things done a certain way,” I say in a monotone voice, still staring at the wall in front of me.

“And so do I,” David replies.

I cut him a glare. “You’re one to talk about getting what you want. It usually ends in gunfire.”

“Yes, but the difference is, You are not working for me.” David’s accent is heavier when he’s trying to be collected. “And I would never bully you.”

“You’re pressuring me to quit,” I say.

David raises his arms by his sides, as if he means no harm. “I’m just trying to speak the truth.”

Sometimes the truth hurts, and I know that, but I feel like he could be doing a better job of trying to keep me around. It’s really like he doesn’t want me here, and that’s confusing, considering how intensely attracted to me he appears to be. Has this all been an act?

“You think I’m a failure. You think I’m the worst journalist in the world who can’t handle the heat.” My voice breaks over thelast word and I look away. I can’t bear to look at him. It’s too humiliating.

“I didn’t say that.” His mouth creases into a guilty frown.

“Yeah, but that’s what you’re implying.” I lean my head against the headrest and gaze up at the ceiling.

David exhales a long, slow breath. “You can take my advice or not, but when it comes to the bratva, laws and regulations don’t apply. There will always be a risk involved, no matter the situation.”

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