Page 27 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“Okay, thanks, Jeff. Have a good night,” I call out with as much composure as possible. Wrenching my arm free of his grip, I glare at him, hissing back at him. “You are a maniac, Ryurik!You’re in a Chicago Police Department parking lot, and you’re trying to manhandle me?”

Ryurik’s sweating, and his eyes are red. “I don’t care where we are,” he grinds, stepping forward as Jeff drives off. “You aren’t going anywhere with that guy.”

I’m angered and scared by his demeanor, and Ryurik backs me down to the hood of my car. I’m so stunned by his irritational behavior that I’m fearing for my life. My leg caves in as I hit the front bumper of my vehicle, my breath hitching in my throat. Desperate for somebody to come out of the automatic glass doors, I look in that direction, but they stay clamped shut.

“What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t tell me who I’m going to talk to, Ryurik. And last time I checked, you were just on trial for being a cop killer.” I’m baiting an unhinged time bomb, and I know it, but the combination of being found out, carrying his child, and his invasion into my world is forcing me into a corner.

Ryurik sneers, baring his polished white teeth. “Oh, you think because you’re outside the police station that you’re safe.” He comes closer to my face. My vehicle is in a tucked away position, and I now wish I’d parked closer in, not in a back corner where it can’t be easily seen.

“I am safe.” I’ve got barely enough wiggle room to show my gun as Ryurik grins, shaking his shaggy mane out.

“No. You’re not. I know your little secret, and I don’t give a fuck what anyone in your little police department job thinks.”

Fuck. Please, no. How did he find out? Gulping down the lump stuck at the base of my throat, I stare at the ruthless man in front of me in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” I pant, playing the role of a great pretender.

Ryurik stretches out one hand on the side of the hood as I bite down on my folded bottom lip, the taste of coppery blood tinged on my tongue. “Don’t play dumb cop. You’re pregnant, and I know it’s mine.

There it is. The worst truth imaginable escapes from his mouth. Disgusted with myself I move like a crab to the side of the vehicle. “How did you get my medical records, Ryurik? Did you steal them?” I ask, my voice straddling between breaking into sobs or cracking. I can’t tell which. Neither are preferable.

“What kind of Bratva underboss would I be if I weren’t able to retrieve personal records without another person’s permission?”

“That’s highly illegal,” I bite back, licking my lip, my eyes sealed to the door, but again there’s no movement. There are cameras all over the parking lot and no matter how psycho Ryurik is, I’m sure he’s not that stupid to keep standing here. He’s going to make a move sooner versus later, I figure.

“Is it? More so you’re highly unethical for hiding my own child from me. I have a right to be involved in my child’s life. I wonder what your boss, Jackson, would think about that?” he taunts silkily, the bright green in his eyes shimmering.

I did hide the truth from him, and it’s got me nervous. Maybe it was completely the wrong decision. I say nothing for a minute, thinking quickly on my feet. I don’t want to confirm or deny that I’m having his kid. Maybe if I do, I’ll be calling his bluff. What if he doesn’t have any medical records at all to prove it’s his kid and he had me followed? With a quick conclusion I think that’s a more likely scenario.

Taking the risk, I look straight down the barrel of Ryurik’s psychotic green eyes. “You’re making a big assumption.”

“No. I’m not. You’re mine and I own you. You’re havingmykid. A Bratva child.”

Shaking my head, I keep living in the lie. “You’re making the assumption, you’re the only man I’ve slept with since the club,” I taunt, knowing it’s liable to get me slapped, but I need to figure out a plan—and quick.

Ryurik slams the palm of his hand on the top of my hood, the shock of the loud thump as he indents it, making me gasp. “It’s mine. I saw the results. And I know the location of all your friends, and your sickly adopted mother, Laura.”

My eyes widen as my heart takes a beating thinking about Ryurik hurting any of my loved ones, and it’s not as if he won’t do it. He’s already proven he doesn’t care, despite the fact he looks like a friendly, affable, easygoing guy on the surface.

“You stay away from them,” I say, but there’s weakness in my warning and Ryurik smells it.

“Then you stop playing tough detective and listen to me. I know exactly how to make a death look like an accident. And get this,” he breathes, his minty breath covering my face as he leans closer. “You know all about this.”

Willy Dee’s case shows up in my mind. Not that anybody thinks his case is an accident, but if he could so easily get away with killing a senior cop and not receiving so much as a slap on the wrist, then what would it be for him to offload my body in the woods somewhere?

“I think you’re making a mistake,” I tell him, but in the quietest voice possible.

“No. You are. Listen to me,” he says carefully, a slight breeze blowing his hair over his eyes as dusk settles in, the streetlights coming on. “Get in my car. It’s next to yours. Isn’t that sweet, huh? His and hers,” he jokes as my stomach swirls,my head woozy. I have to listen to him and as I round to the passenger door of his SUV, I recall my training for what to do in a kidnap situation, re-running all the test cases.

I’m going to need to draw on every lesson I had, but right now all my training has flown out the window and my mind is frozen numb. I’m on the road to death… surely.

Chapter Sixteen - Ryurik

“Yes, but there’s no point beating the South Side over the head too many times. It’s already an exhausted area. We need a new angle, and this Vegas casino circuit could be a new and lucrative venture for the both of us,” Paul Butcher advises as we eat sushi and discuss strategy.

He’s tall enough, with a full head of hair and brown eyes. If I were going to call Paul Butcher anything, I would say he was average to look at, and that’s one of the reasons not many people think he’s one of Chicago’s biggest sharks and involved in mob activities in a big way.

“Yes. But it’s a neighborhood that’s not going to let us down,” I remind him, still wanting to run my illegal card game racket, but Paul’s advising me to take all my attention and place it into the casino game.

“With my help and knowing the gaming commissioner, we can bring your operation up to a more sophisticated level. You can run your product through the casinos. You know MGM Grand, but could I introduce you to skimming?”

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