Page 37 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“Where?” Vlad’s voice is low.

“At the warehouse across town.” I rub my tense jaw.

“Oleg?” Vlad asks.

“Yes. He had a crew with him,” I say.

“Anyone we know?” Vlad asks.

“It all happened so fast,” I explain. “But not that I could tell.”

Vlad goes silent for a moment before continuing. “What were you doing at the warehouse?”

“Checking the counterfeit machines,” I reply, trying to sound casual.

“Were you alone?” Vlad sounds wary.

My hesitation is all he needs to hear. “You broughtherto the warehouse?”

“I can trust her,” I bark out, a warning in my tone to let Vlad known that no matter what, I’m still in charge.

“Jesus, boss.” He blows out a sharp breath.

“Leave the decision making to me,” I growl. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Was anyone hurt?” he asks, still concerned.

“We got out of there alive,” I tell him. “But she left once we got back to my condo. She’s furious at me for putting her in danger.”

“Did she ask to go with you to the warehouse?” Vlad chooses his words carefully. He’s insinuating that she’s part of the problem, or perhaps the entire problem, but that’s not the case. I’m the one who came up with the idea.

“I invited her,” I tell him, keeping my words short. I really don’t want to start talking about Hazel right now, especially not after the phone call we had.

I’ve told Vlad very little about Hazel, other than her name and vague details about my arrangement with her. The less he knows, the better. But he is aware of her existence in my life, and that she’s writing a story with anonymous details about the operations going on in this city. I told him about our end game goal of putting an end to the gun running violence. Vlad understands that much, because he wants it to stop just as much as I do.

“She’s pissed, too,” I admit after a long silence between us.

“Well, don’t hate me, but she might have every reason to be pissed,” Vlad says.

“She thinks I let her down when I was supposed to be protecting her.” I light a cigar and blow a puff of smoke toward the ceiling. “How the hell was I to know those gangsters were going to show up?”

“You probably shouldn’t be alone anymore,” Vlad mentions.

I huff. “I can take care of myself.”

“Still, it might be a good idea to bring Miroslav with you places from now on. Just until the heat dies down. Oleg is obviously trying to take you out.”

“He won’t be successful,” I bite back.

“No one is one-hundred percent invincible,” Vlad reminds me in a much gentler tone.

“Miroslav makes Hazel uncomfortable,” I add as if that’s a legitimate excuse for the whole argument.

“Well, is death less uncomfortable to her?” Vlad asks.

I laugh. “Alright, you’ve made your point. It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s gone because she can’t handle this lifestyle. She thought she could, but she can’t. It’s over.”

“I’m coming over,” Vlad says, and I hear him rifling around on the other end. “Grabbing my keys and shoes now and heading your way.”

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