Page 16 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

“Hey, honey. When can you get here?” her husband replies, clearly distraught on the other end of the line.

“I can get there now. Hold on.” Dr. Perri looks in every direction. It’s almost as if she’s not considering I can help her. “Hey, I have to go, Sophia. Marcy’s in a bad way,” she explains.

“You should go check on your daughter. Go be with her. I’m sure I can conduct the last interview. We’ve already done two. I’ve got the list of questions down. I promise,” I tell her in a pleading tone, wanting to prove myself. This is the best opportunity I’m going to have to prove myself as her research assistant.

“Okay, okay. All the files are in there,” she says, swirling her hand around the pile in my hand. “They’re in there somewhere.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll find them. Thank you.”

“Marcy must have forgot her EpiPen or whatever.” And in a matter of seconds, Dr. Perri emerges from her cool, calm, and collected composure to flustered in a few seconds flat. “I trust you, Sophia. Get as much information as you can. Good luck!” And just like that, I’m left alone in the interview room. Slowly I place all the folders down on the desk as well as my notes.

I pick up the corresponding file, reading the name typed in black on it. Andrei Utkin. God, I must have residuals of this guy on the brain because here’s his name popping up again. Groaning, I shake my head at the coincidence, opening the manila folder and noticing how thick it is.

Obviously, he’s a dangerous man, but if I’m going to work in criminal law, this is a process to get used to. I can do this.

A knock at the door makes me skittish as I snap the manila folder shut. I’m of two minds about seeing the face on the other side of the door.

“Are you ready for the next one?” the officer asks.

“Yes, send them in,” I reply, wanting to sound professional, but it comes out more like a chipmunk sound.

As the door creaks open, I’m unprepared for the person who walks through it. A tall man dressed in khaki with sharp, piercing eyes enters, and my stomach twists.

A generous smile covers his handsome mouth. “Hello, Sophia. We have to stop meeting in strange places,” he replies, a deep husk in his tone.

This is the Andrei I slept with. Holy. Shit.

Chapter Eight – Andrei

Twiddling my thumbs and playing cards in this bullshit cell is a good enough way to pass the time, but I’m done with it now. My lawyer, Bennett Cleary, is standing on the inside of my cell reminding me of what I already knew to be true.

“You’re going to be out of here in a couple of days. They just have to make it look like they’re covering their tracks and doing a thorough investigation. You know the drill.”

Smirking, I unhinge some caked-up dirt from underneath my fingernail. “I knew that already. Who got in your way?” I ask him, immediately thinking about ways to have the meddling Officer Williams moved to a different jurisdiction.

“A few people, but all of them are gunning for something or other. The district attorney, mayor… that type of thing. You know how it goes,” he tells me.

“I do know, but that little shit Williams is getting on my last nerve. We got anything on him?”

My lawyer sneaks a look around the cell. It’s not a normal cell. I get star treatment here. I have a good relationship with the prison guards and the chef. They smuggle in the good stuff. I’ve got a TV, my phone, and connections to the outside world, so it’s more like a restful stay for me.

“Yeah, I’m working on it,” Bennett remarks.

“Work harder or—”

“No. Shut up. Respectfully. Walls have ears. Haven’t you got that research thing you’re doing now?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” I tell him, standing up. “Something to kill the time. I might as well. It will be interesting to see how the other side thinks about things. I might learn something while I’m in here, who knows.” I give him a cool shrug, smoothing down the khaki prison costume I’ve been made to wear. I much prefer black, but it beats the orange jumpsuit that some other states have to wear.

“You might. Good luck. I’ll be in touch.”

“Good. See you, Bennett.”

He walks away, and one of the prison guards comes to collect me. “Ready to go?”

“Sure am. Lead the way.”

The guard doesn’t bother to walk behind me. He walks in front because I know him, and I’m paying him a nice little monthly bonus to be friendly on the inside. Besides he’s got a daughter that needs her college tuition paid for.

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