Page 22 of Bratva Daddies for the Single Mom

Annie straightened with a soft sound that worried me. “I’m not feeling well.” One hand flattened over her stomach, the other holding the table beside her leg.

That rat bastard Robert. Was he the cause behind this reaction? Had we pushed her too far, too fast after suffering at his hands? If we’d unwittingly caused her any kind of trauma, I’d wrench the man’s head from his shoulders with my bare hands. They curled at the thought, my jaw locking tight. I’d never wrought violence in this room, despite its use for interrogation, and I refused to start. Violence was not what Annie needed. I tore my head out of my ass and gave her a long once-over. Sweatdotted her brow, and her face had paled since we left her at the break room.

She held her ground, but there was a sense of trembling around her, like her body held a fever that shook her in such minute ways as to be undetectable. I’d spent too long watching for such signs that I picked up on even the slightest shift.

Viktor’s mouth opened, his face set in hard lines.

“I’ll take you back to your car.” I remained slightly behind Viktor, but my voice carried past him before he could demand that she stay.

Viktor drove his head back and to the side. “Ilya?”

“Look at her, Viktor. She’s in no state to work.” I spoke too low for Annie to hear, and from the way she shook her head and rubbed her temples, her own body’s betrayal took up all her attention. “I’ll speak with her.”

He grunted his agreement. “Would you like us to walk you out?”

Annie bit her bottom lip, the bright spots of color contrasting with the stark paleness. “I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

“We do not.” He took the table from her.

I shouldered her bag, and Fyodor placed a supporting hand on the small of her back.

Far sooner than I liked, we exited the building and crossed the brightly lit parking garage to my car. Viktor insisted on open spaces and more lights than the Chicago skyline at night. It had saved him on multiple occasions when rivals sought to eliminate him under the cloak of darkness.

I placed her table in the back, Viktor stopping beside me while Fyodor helped Annie into the passenger seat.

“Find out what you can.” He slapped a hand to my shoulder. “Gently.”

“I’m not an animal.” I bared my teeth in a mockery of a smile. “I like her too much to be a brute.”

“Ha. You speak for all of us, my brother.” Viktor moved away, going to the passenger side to say goodbye to Annie.

I gave them a few seconds before I climbed behind the wheel and cranked the engine.

Viktor closed the door and stepped back, Fyodor moving at the same pace so they looked like soldiers marching in reverse. I tapped my forehead with two fingers, indicating I’d return soon.

Annie remained quiet the first few miles. Chicago unrolled all around us. Buildings. Cars. Noise and chaos. I’d become used to it through the years, but it still found ways to surprise me. Annie was one of those delicious surprises I’d never seen coming. “Would you like music?” I pointed at the knobs and dials. “What do you prefer to listen to?”

A beat of silence passed, then, “Jazz.”

Interesting choice. “And why jazz?”

“It’s a vibe, you know? Soul and hope, all wrapped up in beauty.” A darting glance in my direction, and then she concentrated on staring out the windshield.

I tapped a button and one of my favorite artists crooned through the speakers. “Have you heard this?”

“Yes. It’s my favorite.”

I allowed the music to work its magic, then gently asked, “Are you feeling better? Is there anywhere we need to stop on our way? Anything you need?”

“My stomach is upset. I’m sure it’s nothing serious. I’ll be fine, I’d just like to go home and rest.”

If we were not on the road, I’d have a better handle on her facial expressions and how her body responded to the questions. As it was, thanks to years of interrogations, I relied heavily on the cadence of her voice, the even pitch and tone, and the factthat she didn’t fidget or lean away from me when she answered. All of those things pointed to her telling the truth.

I joined a line of traffic on the main road leading to Miles Kent’s office building. “Where are you parked?”

“On the ground floor, beside the elevator. I didn’t want to carry the table too far.” Again, her voice remained neutral, giving me further proof that she spoke the truth.

The line of cars crept forward at a slow but steady pace. Black exhaust plumes rose from the taxi ahead of us, the rattle and rasp of an engine on its last turn coughing a farewell. I made the turn into Kent’s garage for the second time today, feeling better about this trip than the first. Perhaps I’d check in on Mr. Kent once Annie left. He wouldn’t expect me again so soon. A hint of a rigid grin threatened. I tamped it down. “Which car?”

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