Page 6 of The Bratva's Hunted Bride
“Maybe Matvey’s shoes are too big for you to fill?” Valery teases, singsong.
That yanks me out of the movie playing on repeat in my head. “Do you think you could do better?”
It comes out harsher than I intended, my nerves raw and frayed, and she leans back in her seat, away from me. “Chill. It was a joke. Jesus, you are wound tight. Seriously, Tim, we’re here to help. Delegate if you need to.”
Oleg nods in agreement. “You don’t have to take it all on by yourself. We’re a family.”
“It’s not too much,” I say, brushing away their offers of help. And it wouldn’t be, if I could stop my thoughts from racing. I feel like a zoo animal, pacing back and forth at the front of its cage until a rut is worn in the dirt.
Valery snorts. “Riiight. You saved the day at the restaurant, and things are running smoothly right now. Why don’t you give me something to do? Just to keep me out of trouble.”
Is there some way I could use them to find Talia? It seems impossible to go by just a name and a description, but three people looking is better than one.
“I need to find someone.” I try to come off casually, like this is no big deal to me, but Oleg eyes me strangely when I go on. “Her name is Talia. That’s all I have.”
“Talia,” Oleg repeats, frowning at me. “And you need to find her, why?”
The lie tumbles out easily. I only hope it’s not so paper-thin he can see right through it. “For now, all you need to know is she’s a target we’re interested in… acquiring. Petite. Early twenties. Light brown hair. Brown eyes.”
“That’s… not much to go on,” Valery says, sharing a look with Oleg. “I mean, how many Talias do you think are in this city?”
“About seventy,” I reply, because obviously I’ve already looked this up. “Give or take.”
Oleg’s frown deepens. “And she’s a target we’re interested in, is that right?”
I glare at him, daring him to challenge me on this. “That’s right. Look, you guys wanted to help, this is what I’m offering. Help or don’t, I don’t give a shit.”
There’s an upswell of irritation within me that I know has very little to do with either of them and everything to do with my ghost. I almost feel as though I dreamed her. One perfect night with one perfect woman, and then she’s gone. Slipped from my fingers because I was careless. I shouldn’t have slept. Should’ve gotten her full name. Her address. Anything more than this nothing I have to go on.
“Okay, okay,” Valery says, waving her hands up and down in a calming gesture. “We’ll help. Right?”
I can practically see Oleg turning it over in his mind, but he sighs and relents. “Fine. We’ll help. No promises, though. Seventy people and not much to go on.”
It’s a long shot, but I won’t rest until we find her. I need to know why she snuck out. Why did she take off without even leaving her number for me to reach he, when I know we both felt something raw and real that night?
“Thanks,” I tell them both, pushing my chair back from the table. We’re supposed to be getting lunch, but I can’t spend another moment sitting still—not with this jittery, nervous energy flooding my system. “Let me know once you find something.”
Oleg’s stare follows me out of the restaurant, a prickle between my shoulder blades. He knows my history. Knows my tendencies. If he tries to put a stop to this before I find Talia again, he’s going to find out just how far I’ll go to get to her.
***
It’s the worst week of my life. I’m making mistakes, stupid and careless mistakes, where the business is concerned, because I can’t focus on anything but finding Talia. All my free time, and time that isn’t really free at all, is spent searching for her, crossing names off my list. In the end, I’m not even the one who finds her.
Valery rings me one afternoon. “Is this her? I think she matches your description. I’m sending a picture through.”
My heart races. I pull the phone from my ear and swipe over to Valery’s message chain. There’s a picture of Talia in profile from a distance. With shaking fingers, I tap to zoom in, hardly believing what I’m seeing. It’s her. It’s actually her.
“Yes,” I say, barely managing to keep the excitement out of my voice. Totally neutral. This is just a target. Just business. “That’s her. Where is she?”
Valery spouts off the address and I memorize it. “But Timofey, why do you want Talia Popov? Are you trying to start something with their family right now?”
Popov. No wonder she was so hard to find. She’s probably got a protection detail and her whole family looking out for her. I ignore Valery’s question and hang up, grabbing my car keys. I want to get to her before she moves on to another location where she might be harder to find.
Take it slow. Don’t scare her. I white knuckle the steering wheel and press the gas pedal down a little further, darting past a car that’s moving too slowly for the urgency pounding in my chest. I find a parking spot and skid the tires in the sand that coats the pavement, then hop out.
The beach isn’t too crowded, just a handful of people strolling along in the surf and a few sunbathers lying on towels, hoping to catch the first rays of the day. I double-check the address Valery sent and turn toward the boardwalk. It stretches for seven miles and is packed with cafes, shops, galleries, and hotels. The one I’m looking for is a surf shop, judging by the name.
Mollusk Surf sits between an art gallery and a smoothie shop, the latter with a line stretching outside onto the boardwalk. The sweet smell of fruit overtakes the salty smell of the sea as I step into the line, using the cover of the crowd to peek into the surf shop’s windows.
