Page 35 of Knocked Up by the Bratva

“She’s been hiding out somewhere in Italy,” Serge says, crossing his arms over his chest. “Looks like she’s trying to stay off the radar, but it’s hard to disappear completely. She slipped up.”

I laugh, leaning back in my chair, feeling the tight knot of frustration in my chest loosen slightly. “She must’ve thought she could escape me.” The memory of her defiance, her running off after that night, it still grates on me. And the fact that she dared betray me, leaking information about our business to the Italians—that’s not something I can let go of. “She made a big mistake.”

Serge nods, his expression serious. “You said it yourself, Timur. She ignored your warning, and worse, she betrayed you. You don’t let things like that slide.”

I smirk. “No, I don’t.”

Serge moves to stand by the window, hands in his pockets, still brooding over his own issues, but his eyes flick back to me. “So, what are you going to do?”

I stare at the screen for a long moment, the grainy footage of Jennifer moving through the store playing on a loop in my mind. She’s gotten away with too much, for too long. The way she left, the way she tried to erase me from her life—it’s laughable, really. She should have known better. No one escapes me.

“I’ll deal with her in my own time,” I say, keeping my voice calm and measured, but inside, the anger bubbles. “When I get my hands on her, she’ll regret every second of it.”

Serge nods approvingly, though I can tell he’s still distracted by his own obsessions. “Good. I thought you’d like to know. As for me, I’m going to keep digging into Anthony’s death. There’s more to it, Timur, I swear.”

I wave him off, not really wanting to dive into that mess right now. Serge’s fixation on his friend’s so-called murder has been clouding his judgment for months, and while I sympathize with him to some extent, I’ve got bigger priorities. “Handle it, Serge. Just don’t get too deep. We don’t need more problems.”

He gives a noncommittal grunt and heads for the door, but before he leaves, he glances back at me. “You should be careful with her, Timur. Women like that… they can mess with your head.”

I laugh darkly. “She’s not going to mess with anything anymore.”

Serge leaves, and I’m left alone in the office, staring at the paused footage on the screen. Jennifer Jewels, the woman who thought she could escape me. The woman who dared to betray me and run. I feel a flicker of something—something almost akin to excitement—as I think about seeing her again, about confronting her. It’s not just about revenge, though. No, it’s more than that. She’s different. She got under my skin in a way no one else has.

She’s the first woman in a long time who’s made me feel something, and it pisses me off.

I reach for my phone, dialing Oleg. He picks up after the first ring. “What’s up, Boss?”

“I need you to find someone for me. Jennifer Jewels. I’m sending you her location. Track her down. No more games. I want her brought back to me.”

Oleg doesn’t ask any questions. He knows better than to question me when I’m like this. “Consider it done.”

I hang up, leaning back in my chair and staring out the window. The city skyline stretches out before me, butmy mind is far away, already thinking about what I’ll do when I finally get my hands on Jennifer again.

***

Oleg sits across from me, the tension thick in the air as we review the latest intel on Jennifer’s whereabouts. It’s been weeks since Serge first showed me the CCTV footage, and while we’ve made progress, we haven’t been able to close in on her yet. Oleg, as usual, is calm and collected, but I can feel the unease creeping into the room. Something’s off.

“I’ve got a tip,” Oleg says, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s from one of our guys in the underground network. Apparently, the Italians have a hand in this. Specifically, Chiara Vinci.”

I scowl, the name setting off an immediate rush of anger. Chiara. The daughter of Don Fernando, who we dealt with not too long ago. She’s been a thorn in our side for a while, trying to pick up where her father left off. I know she’s still pissed about her old man’s death and the crumbling of the Italian Mafia’s influence. I wouldn’t put it past her to get involved with Jennifer—especially since her family lost so much because of us.

“Where is she?” I ask, my voice tight with impatience.

Oleg doesn’t blink. “We’ve got her location. She’s been spotted moving around the outskirts of town. We can track her down easily. You want to handle this personally?”

I lean back in my chair, considering it for a moment. Normally, I’d let my guys take care of something like this, but Chiara is a different case. She’s slippery, dangerous. If she’s involved with Jennifer’s disappearance, I want to make sure we get every last piece of information out of her.

“I’m going,” I say, standing up. Oleg raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question me. He knows better than to argue when I’ve made up my mind.

***

We find Chiara holed up in a dingy warehouse on the edge of town, her usual glamorous appearance stripped down to something more practical. She’s with two men, but they’re no match for us. Oleg takes one out with a swift punch to the throat, while I handle the other, slamming his head into the concrete floor with a sickening thud.

Chiara’s eyes widen in shock as I grab her by the arm, yanking her toward me. “You’ve been meddling in things you shouldn’t, Chiara,” I growl, my fingers digging into her skin. “Now, you’re going to tell me everything you know about Jennifer.”

She puts up a front, trying to play it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Timur.”

I tighten my grip until she winces. “Don’t lie to me, Chiara. I’m not in the mood for games.”

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