Page 3 of Innocent Bratva Hostage

I tossed my phone on the table. My fingers hovered over the phone still, and my throat tightened as I fought back emotions.

“Is everything okay?” Hazel asked, her face marred with concern. “You look really sad right now.”

“Yeah.” I tucked my hair behind my ear and lifted my coffee to my mouth. It was lukewarm now, making it taste even creamier. “She’s worried my dad’s business will end up putting me in harm’s way.”

She gave me a pitiful look. “Is it always like this with your parents?”

I drew in a breath, trying to act as unaffected as possible. “Not always. Mom goes ballistic whenever she finds out Dad came around. She’s been that way since they divorced.”

“You can’t blame her, though; she’s only worried because she cares about you.” Hazel stares at me intently. “You’ll be fine. You’re one of the toughest people I know.”

“Can you blame me?” I forced a smile that didn’t meet my eyes. “Mobster dads have that effect.”

She chuckled. “Tell me about it. When I was younger, I used to think mobster dads were very cool. They always looked badass.”

“Yeah, seems that way when it’s not your reality,” I muttered as I peered outside.

It was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning in New York City. The streets were buzzing with people and cars, and the sky was the bluest I’d ever seen. That was when it occurred to me that I was missing something very important—a memory I would cherish forever.

“What are you thinking?” Hazel asked, dragging my attention back to the present.

“I’m thinking I’ve never had a date with my dad. We didn’t even have a daddy-daughter dance when I went to prom at sixteen.”

Hazel leaned over the table, her hazel-green eyes glistening. “So, you want to ask your dad out on a date?”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes.”

My conversation with Mom evoked something in me. I always knew how dangerous my dad’s job was, but it never occurred to me until now how valid her fear was. What if I never saw him again? What if the next time I saw him would be the last?

A shiver ran down my spine, and suddenly, my scalp prickled with terror. I needed to make a bucket list of things that I wanted to do with him. Mom was in Oregon now, and she wouldn’t know I met up with him if no one snitched.

“Perfect,” Hazel exclaimed. “Do you have any idea where you’d want to go with him?”

I shook my head. “I’m thinking of one of the fancy restaurants in the city. We can go fishing, too, and maybe he’d teach me how to shoot a gun.”

Honestly, anything was fine as long as I got to spend some time with him.

My phone bleeped with an incoming message from my dad. “Are we psychics or something? I think my parents know we’re gossiping about them. Guess who just texted?”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed my phone from the table, but it rang just as I was about to open his message.

Hazel leaned back in her seat. “Is that him calling?”

“No. It’s an unknown number.” I peered at my phone for a few seconds longer than necessary, my heartbeat speeding up as time seemed to slow around me. Something about this call sent a ripple of dread through my veins. It was the only explanation for how I felt, and I knew if I picked up the phone, I’d regret it.

“Won’t you answer it?”

I swallowed hard enough to push down the lump in my throat and swiped on the screen, ignoring my internal protests. At first, I didn’t speak; I just listened.

“Hello?” a gravelly voice said on the other end of the line. “Am I speaking to Giselle Rae?”

I listened for any familiarity with the voice, but there was none. I recognized only his Russian accent, and I could already guess that it was one of the people Dad worked with.

My fingers grew cold around my phone, and I clutched it tighter. My pulse picked up, and my heart thudded against my ribcage in anticipation of what was to come.

Something was wrong.

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