Page 50 of Claimed Bratva Virgin

But here he was, so I had to deal with him.

One of his men came up to his side and muttered something about the area being clear and Rossi not in sight. The man looked badly beaten, with patches of blood smeared over the skull tattoos on his arms.

Rafayel faced me. “Get out of the car.”

“And why the hell would I do that?”

His eyes darkened when he sneered. “Because I said so. Now’s not the time to be fucking stubborn, Leonya. You’re riding with me, and Tikhon will follow behind us in your car,” was all he said before stepping aside, waiting for me to open the door. His tone left no room for an argument, and I didn’t even have the strength to start one.

Quietly, I snatched my purse and opened the door.

****

“I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Rafayel spoke in Russian, but I heard him loud and clear, so I looked up from the doctor applying ointment on my face and asked him, “Why?”

Why did he want to kill Luca?

But the stubborn man didn’t answer me. He still had the killer look in his eyes and was looking everywhere else but my face.

As far as I was concerned, Papa and I were the ones with the major Rossi problem. He was on our turf, so we were responsible for taking care of him. I didn’t understand why Rafayel had his men search the area to hunt down Rossi, and I sure as hell didn’t know why it wouldn’t have bothered me if Rafayel put a bullet or two in his head.

The stone-faced, silver-haired man, whose name I’d learned was Grigor, adjusted his jacket, fixed his briefcase and first aid kit, and backed away from me. “The wounds on her hands will heal soon. She just grazed her skin. Plenty of rest and consistently applying that ointment, and she’ll be good as new.”

He was talking to Rafayel in more Russian, speaking indistinctly in hushed tones. And when he started leaving, I waited for the door to close behind his back before I faced him and asked again. “Why do you want to kill him?”

“Why?” His anger was misfiring. It was intended for the other Italian, but I got the brunt of his scowl. “Have you seen your fucking face?”

Crazy, wasn’t it? Barely two months ago, this same man had me bound to an iron chair with a knife pressed to my throat, ready to kill me if he had to, and now he wanted to snap someone’s neck for touching me.

“I can handle my own shit, thank you very much.”

“Sure, with your Shadow Clone Jutsu, right? And why the fuck were you alone? Something could have happened to you out there.”

“Yeah, like another encounter with Rossi. I mean, what’s the worst that could happen, right?”

“You think this is a joke?”

“Do you see me laughing?”

Now, he looked madder and spoke with more aggression than before. “I don’t know, you tell me, because, at one glance, you look normal and okay in the head. But then you’re taking lone trips to hospitals and shutting yourself in your car by the roadside after a rival spins a surprise ambush on you. Does any of that sound normal to you?”

I started to respond, ready to yell his ear off for questioning my sanity, when his words replayed in his head, on repeat, and anger flared up in my veins when I realized. “How dare you? How dare you stalk me?”

“While you’re fucking yelling, remember it helped me find you in the first place.”

“Who asked you to find me? Who told you I needed your help?”

It was a shouting match now, regardless of who heard us outside those doors. He didn’t care, and I sure didn’t give a fuck either.

“How could I forget? You’re an ungrateful bitch.”

Ouch?

“And you’re an arrogant, narcissistic bastard! Fucking asshole.”

“Whatever you say.” There was a small smile dancing on his lips, like he was enjoying this. “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re with me right now.”

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