Page 55 of Stolen By the Bratva King

“Yeah, I know, but I can’t tell her no. I’ve already made excuses for two weeks now.”

“Okay, well, let me know how it goes.”

“And same for you,” she says. “Call me if anything happens and you need me.”

“I will, I promise.” And I mean it.

To my surprise and relief,I spot Vlad’s car in the parking lot at David’s condo complex. It’s all the way across the lot, hidden under a large maple, but I know it’s his through research. I park in the guest spot next to David’s front door and will myself out to ring the bell.

“He won’t hurt me,” I mumble to myself all the way to the porch stoop.

My finger is made of lead when I press it to the doorbell. My knees threaten to give out any second. I hear someone moving inside and then the lock clicks. As the door swings open, I hold my breath.

Vlad stands in front of me wearing a wifebeater tank and loose black basketball shorts. His feet are bare, and his eyes are red from lack of sleep. He blinks at me. There’s several days’ worth of stubble on his face.

I wring my hands together and find my voice. “Vlad? I’m?—”

“I know who you are,” he cuts me off, eyes narrowed. “David isn’t here.”

“I know. I heard about…I mean I read…”

Vlad’s eyes slid suspiciously past me, before returning. “Who sent you here?”

“Nobody,” I reply, trying my best to sound confident.

“You came alone?” His eyebrows shoot up into his hair line.

I nod. “I wanted to see if you had a way to get in touch with David.”

The knots in his jaw ease somewhat. He beckons me inside with a wave. When I hesitate, his eyes harden. “I’m not going to hurt you. You are the one who rang the doorbell.”

“Right.” I try to laugh, but it’s nervous and I know he can sense it. These men are used to sniffing out fear. Their livelihoods depend on it.

When we walk inside, it smells like a mixture of cigars and sweat.

“I was just working out,” Vlad says, as if he can read my thoughts.

I nod, unsure what to say.

He sits on the edge of the couch and studies me. I pretend not to be intimidated. “Why do you want to contact David?”

Because I miss him. I need to tell him I’m sorry, that I’m falling for him.

“I went to your warehouse,” I blurt out instead.

Vlad’s eyes widen, and he almost looks… impressed maybe? “Why?”

“I thought I’d find you there.”

“I’m watching this place for now.” He gestures around the living room.

“I saw people there.” I go back to wringing my hands.

Vlad’s eyes narrow again. “Who?”

“Oleg.”

“Which warehouse?” he asks, leaning toward me and frowning deeply.

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