Page 3 of Captured By the Bratva

Jimmy.

I feel the pieces slotting together with a sickening clarity, the way he’d looked at me just before I left, so sure of himself, so smug. He knew he had me cornered, and now, he’s made sure of it.

God, I’m an idiot. I remember, “Give me access, just in case something happens to you, Cathy.” And I did. I believed him.

Tony is watching me, a hint of pity in his eyes as I stand up, stumbling a little in my rush. “Have it on me,” he says. “We all get short at the end of the month.”

“Thanks,” I mutter as I tip back the drink. “I better go sort this.” I have nothing left for pride, nothing left but the fury rising in my chest.

I head outside, dialing Jimmy’s number with shaking fingers as the cold night air presses down around me. He answers on the second ring, and I can hear the smirk in his voice before he even says a word.

“Finally realized you’re lost without me, huh?”

“Where is my money, Jimmy?” I don’t bother with pretense, my voice sharper than I’ve ever heard it.

He laughs, low and satisfied. “Oh, that? I just borrowed it for a little while. Needed to make sure you’d come back to talk this through like a grown up. Can’t have you thinking you can just walk out on me. We’ve got a wedding coming up, remember?”

His voice turns falsetto. “Oh, Jimmy, I can’t wait to get married. I always wanted to get married. My mom never got to get married. I can’t wait to be your wife.” He laughs. “Remember that?”

My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. “You stole all my money? How could you?—”

“Oh, Cathy. Don’t be so dramatic,” he says, voice smooth and cold. “You’ll know you’ll get it back, assuming you’re willing to be reasonable. But if you think you’re just going to run off into the sunset, you’re doing it penniless.

“Where are you even going to go? You have no family, no one who’s going to help you, and don’t even get me started on that ‘career’ of yours. As if writing ever made anyone any money. You’re a fucking waitress and that’s all you’ll ever be.”

My grip tightens on the phone as his words twist deeper into me. I won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking down. Not now. Not anymore.

I take a deep breath, struggling to keep my voice steady. “I want my money back. Tonight.”

Another laugh, condescending and sharp. “I’m parked out by the bridge. Come down, get in the car, and we’ll figure something out.”

3

CATHY

The bridge is where he always goes after we have an argument. Same routine every single time. He drives there. I have to walk. I get in. He berates me until I give in and apologize. Then he drives us home.

Not this time.

I climb into the passenger seat, arms crossed, my whole body tense as Jimmy tosses his cigarette then shifts to face me.

The bridge is deserted, surrounded by dark water and quiet streets. I can barely breathe in the confined space. How have I never noticed before how much he smells of smoke?

He watches me for a moment, as if he’s trying to read my thoughts, then sighs, his voice softening to something meant to be comforting. “I know you’re upset, but you lied, Cathy.”

“I lied?”

“You got home an hour before you were meant to. Sometimes in life, we see things we’re not supposed to.”

“Are you quoting Dirty Dancing at me? I worked twelve hours and then Susie was well enough to come in so I got to come home. How is that lying?”

He does what he always does during an argument. Changes subject.

“Storming off like that, running out without thinking…that’s not like you. You’re better than that.”

“Running off?” I say, gripping the seat to keep my voice steady. “You cheated on me, Jimmy. You stole my money. Don’t tell me how I’m supposed to feel.”

He shakes his head, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth, as if I’m a child throwing a tantrum. “I didn’t steal anything, Cathy. I moved it to teach you a lesson. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.

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