Page 53 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“I won’t.” I try to give her a consoling smile but it’s not convincing, not even to myself. But I know in my heart I have to do this. I feel a strong force driving me.

“So, Vlad isn’t expecting you to show up?”

I crank the engine and give her another, “not exactly.”

“I’m afraid to even ask this, but have you ever even met this guy?”

“Not exactly.” My new catch phrase.

“Hazel…” she breaths out a sigh.

“I need to talk to him,” I urge. “It’s important. David trusts him. He’s his right-hand man for everything. He’s the only option I have for getting in touch with David.”

“Another option would be to go directly to the jail and ask to speak to him.” Veronica gives me a knowing look.

“I called the jail. They said he was moved to a different facility. When I asked which one, they asked me if I was his lawyer. When I said no, they told me they couldn’t give me that information.”

“You should have said you were the lawyer,” Veronica tuts.

“Yeah, maybe, but on the spot, I didn’t want to lie just in case they can check for stuff like that. I’m not a terrible journalist, I swear.”

“No one said you were. In fact, it’s the opposite. You go above and beyond.”

‘I’m not sure that’s a compliment,” I smile.

Veronica grins. “Me either. You’re definitely a little on the crazy side.”

“Who doesn’t love a little adrenaline rush, every now and then?”

Veronica shifts her feet and looks down. “I prefer different ways of getting adrenaline fixes. You know, like guys, or at a concert, or on a hike.”

I laugh. “I’ve never seen you hike a day in your life.”

“Well, I could start,” Veronica chirps.

I put my hand on the door handle to close it. “Just follow me, alright?”

“Do you know what this Vlad guy looks like?”

“I do. He’s popped up in my research several times.”

“You mean, mugshots?” Veronica quirks an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” My cheeks are warm.

I don’t know why I feel the need to defend him, or any of these bratva mafia men. But I now deep down they have good intentions. Even if I have to keep reminding myself of that.

“Where are you going to park?” She asks.

“At least a block from the warehouse. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

“Do you have any protection at least?” Her pupils dilate with worry.

I pluck out my pink vial of mace from my purse. “This gal right here.”

“Be careful.” Veronica gives me one last glance of doubt before strutting off to her own car.

When she pulls out of the parking lot after me, I take a deep breath and clutch the wheel, convincing myself all the while that I need to do this. I need to take risks if I don’t want to be stuck writing clickbait stories forever.

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