Page 55 of The Bratva's Sold Bride

Nodding toward Andre, I leaned close to Zoey. “See that man over there?”

“Your bodyguard?” she whispered.

I shook my head. “My guard, period. I may as well be a prisoner. He’s not there to protect me, but to keep me from leaving my husband.”

I laid it on so thick I even managed a few tears. I was so anxious about the possible outcome of all this that they were close to being real. This might be the chance I’d been looking for. If I pulled this off, I could be on my way to freedom in a matter of hours, but that also meant I was well and truly on my own. A lifetime of running and hiding.

But my own choice. Was I getting soft even considering backing out? After all, it was my father’s debt, not mine. I wasn’t property to be bought and sold. I wasn’t even faking it anymore. I was on the verge of a full-on panic attack as I soon learned that my new friend was on board with helping me escape.

“It’s just so awful,” I said.

“I have a prescription for anti-anxiety meds,” she said.

I thought she meant for me since I was close to hyperventilating, but she was looking straight at Andre.

“You’re really okay with this?” I asked. “You’re really going to help me?” I might have embellished the hellishness of my time with Dima, but my gratitude was real. I swiped the tears off my cheeks as Zoey’s face set.

“Of course,” she hissed, getting up and heading to the counter.

Very carefully, she drew out an amber bottle from her purse, tipped several pills onto a napkin, and crushed them withthe back of her fingernail. “He’s pretty big,” she whispered. “But three ought to be enough. We’re not looking to kill him, right?”

Her nervous laughter had me clutching my stomach, about to run for the restroom to puke. What was I getting her into?

“He’ll be fine,” I said; a lifetime of witnessing ruthless acts making me able to remain outwardly calm.

She made a big show of ordering a round of cold fruit drinks for the other patrons, saying she’d been working there every day for so long that she felt like she knew everyone. When the barista put the tray on the counter, Zoey turned her back for a moment, her hand slipping from her pocket. I kept my eyes trained on Andre, who’d glanced up when she made her announcement, but was now reading his book again.

Taking the tray, she walked around, setting a glass by each of the other patrons, and they all thanked her with big smiles. Even Andre grunted in a grateful sort of way. We watched from the corner of our eyes as he finally pushed aside his half-finished coffee and took a big swig of the spiked juice.

Zoey made a shuddering sound and put her hand over her mouth, as pale as a ghost.

“There’s no guarantee it’ll work,” I said. Was I trying to soothe her or myself?

Andre must have liked the guava blend because he kept drinking it and soon he was nodding over his book. Zoey looked at me meaningfully, snapped her laptop shut, and got up to leave.

“See you all tomorrow, everyone,” she said for Andre’s benefit, then repeated it in her rudimentary Spanish.

A couple of the people waved, and Andre didn’t look up at all. I kept my focus on a newspaper left on the next table, not even seeing any words I could barely read anyway. I was keenly aware of Andre, struggling to keep his head up. He took one last long drink to finish off his juice, maybe hoping the sugar would perk him up, and then the book dropped out of his hands to the table, and his head lolled back to rest against the wall behind him.

I watched his chest rise and fall for a few seconds, praying we really hadn’t killed him, then made a break for the restroom. But not the women’s this time, which didn’t have a window, and was probably part of why Andre felt so relaxed he could read a book. But I did my homework, and the men’s room had a small window above the sink.

Peeking in to make sure I wasn’t going to alarm anyone just having a pee, I climbed onto the sink and dragged myself through. Ignoring the chipped pane scratching my skin and not giving a damn about my shirt getting ripped as I made the final push, I finally tumbled to the ground outside.

The alley was just wide enough for a car to pass through more comfortably than my trip through the window, and Zoey waited for me there.

“Come on,” she said, voice tight with nerves. Grabbing my arm, she helped me up and pushed me toward the passenger side while she dove behind the wheel and started the engine.

We didn’t mess around with any roundabout routes and headed straight for the nearest highway. As soon as we coasted from the on ramp, she floored it.

“How long?” she asked, eyes glued to the road as she neatly passed the other cars to get into the fast lane.

“Maybe an hour until Dima comes to collect me,” I said. Maybe less if Andre woke up before then and realized I was gone. “We have to get as far as we can as fast as we can.”

She nodded, and the engine revved as she stepped harder on the gas.

Chapter 32 - Dimitry

“Congratulations,” the realtor said after Señor Alvarez signed the papers we’d been negotiating for a week. “You’re now a very rich man.”

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