Page 24 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“And if he doesn’t?” Vlad’s voice is skeptical at best.

“I’m sure you can find a way to motivate him,” I insinuate. “Use force, or any means necessary. Just don’t bash his face in too hard. That will make the police even more suspicious that he was bullied into a confession, and they won’t take it seriously. We need to threaten Oleg in different ways. With his family, or something else that he cares about and doesn’t want to risk losing.”

“I can hit him where it hurts,” Vlad says. “Trust me.”

“I trust you. You might be the only one I do at the moment,” I admit.

“You’ve got it, boss,” Vlad chimes as if he lives for these kinds of conquests, and is proud to receive praise, no matter what it’s for.

I have a few conquests of my own to tackle. Getting Hazel not to hate me is one. Staying under the police’s radar is another. Now if only I can find a way to do both successfully, without tangling everything up together and tripping over the mess.

“Let me know how it’s going later,” I instruct. “I want an update on Oleg’s location by tonight.”

“I’ll do my best,” Vlad says, and I know he actually means it.

“If you need me to get involved, let me know,” I tell him. “But this one I prefer to delegate just to you.”

Vlad switches back to Russian. “I will, boss, but I think it’s better if you just lay low for a little while. At least until we can get this gun thing sorted out with the judge that was killed.”

“That’s the biggest thing on my mind right now” I tell him. “Above all the other problems piling up.”

“I’ll enlist some of the smaller crews to take care of the minor issues,” Vlad offers. “We’ll put out as many fires as we can.”

“Okay, good.” I glance at the vodka bottle, debating whether to guzzle down one more shot, just to take the edge off. I decide against it. For now, I’m subdued.

“I’ll call you later,” Vlad promises before the line clicks off.

Now, I’m left to sort out all my worries on my own, inside the prison of my own mind.

I glance down the hallway where Hazel is still in the bedroom with the door closed. I wonder how much she heard of my conversation with Vlad, if she was even listening. I tried to stick to Russian for most of it, which I know she doesn’t understand.

I pace the kitchen, debating whether to go to her and ask for help. She’s writing a piece about gun trafficking anyway. If her ultimate goal is to help blow it wide open with her research, then maybe she can help me, too, remain out of reach of the police’s hawklike grip.

One thing is certain. I’m not going down for someone else’s mistake. If my father taught me anything, it’s to never let someone else bring you down. If you’re going to ruin your life, make sure it was your own damn choice.

10

Hazel

He has broad shoulders and piercing gray eyes that could be intimidating to anyone crossing his path…

I bite my lip and narrow my eyes at my laptop screen, pressing my finger down on the backspace button. I watch as the whole sentence disappears, going back to the safe crevices of my mind where it belongs.

No. These thoughts are unsafe and don’t belong anywhere, especially not in my mind. Then why am I having so much trouble erasing them? Why can’t it be as easy as pressing the delete button?

I try again, but just stare at my blinking curser, unable to type anything else. I’ve already tried to start this article five times, and each time, it sounds like I’m head over heels in love with David.

I groan and cradle my head in my hands. I need to figure out a way to accurately describe him without giving away his identity,but also without it sounding like I want him served to me like a hot meal on a silver platter.

It’s hopeless and I’m not getting anywhere with it today.

“Having some writer’s block?” David’s deep and brooding voice comes up behind me.

I startle and lift my head, snapping my laptop shut.

David arches a curious eyebrow. “What are you writing about me?”

“Nothing,” I stammer. “I mean… nothing.”

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