Page 44 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
It was my pilot, telling me there were a whole lot of people at the airfield he didn’t recognize. “Some new fuel technician, or at least that’s what he claimed to be, was sniffing around the plane when I got here. I can’t find anyone I trust who works at the airport to vouch for him.”
“Do you know what happened at the house?” I asked. He was already aware of the situation with the Collective, so he was on high alert anyway. When I filled him in, he swore.
“Listen, Boss, I’d like to do a complete inspection of the plane before I risk taking off and having us explode in midair,” he said.
When I turned to Masha, her face was pale under her new golden tan.
“How long will that take?” I asked. We weren’t too far from the airport, and I didn’t want to waste any more time putting space between us and the Collective.
“Three, maybe four hours.” When I expressed my dissatisfaction, he added, “A lot less time than it’d take to pick up all the pieces if we go boom in the sky.”
Enough said. I looked down at Masha’s hand still holding tight to mine. It was all I could focus on, even in the midst of the shitshow unfolding in front of me. Nothing was more important than keeping her safe. What was it with this woman and what she did to me?
“Why don’t we just drive straight through?” she asked in a low voice. “Better than being sitting ducks at the airport.”
I instantly relaxed. As usual, she was brilliant. I told the pilot to do the inspection and wait for further instructions. By the time he was done, we’d be over the border, and he could always fly the plane down in case we needed to move to yet another location.
“Good idea,” I said. With a nod to the driver, he started the car and pulled back onto the highway, preparing to head south.
Masha nodded, taking the compliment in stride and talking about possibly changing cars. “If they’ve been watching you, they’ll know this one.”
“Another good idea,” I said, turning to my phone to locate all the rest stops and gas stations on the route where we might find a suitable car to borrow.
We continued to discuss strategy, her hand still resting in mine, almost as if we were on the same side.
Chapter 33 - Masha
It was difficult to comprehend that the beautiful modern mansion was burning. Much too close a call, when I had been cajoling Anatoli to stay in bed just a little longer. I had almost succeeded, and when I heard the final scream of the guard, a shudder ran through me. As usual, the Collective meant business and had acted faster than I ever dreamed they would.
I was putting on a brave front, but if I had to face them down with only Anatoli, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t win. However, I was beginning to feel an odd loyalty to him I didn’t understand, and furthermore, it scared the daylights out of me. Shouldn’t I have been plotting my escape instead of helping him figure out ways to defeat our common enemy?
An enemy I might very well have better odds with if I played my cards right. They might be powerful, and they might have had a bone to pick with me, but for whatever reason, they weren’t buying Anatoli’s cover story. I believed they balked at the idea of starting an outright war with my family and chose to come after him instead, because they believed he was the easier target. If that was the case, I might be able to stay alive with them long enough to make a deal with my cousins for my safe return.
Based on Anatoli’s dark look, he seemed to think along the same lines. It must have stung his fierce pride, and my hackles raised on his behalf. With the amount of support he got, which was next to none, he was doing a pretty great job. He’d given us a run for our money when he was based in Silicon Valley. And he managed to pull off an escape from my team.
He’d accrued a vast fortune basically on his own after he cut ties with his treacherous family, and when they pleaded forhim to return, he put everything aside for them. I’d never seen such a messy, divided organization, but he whipped them into some semblance of cohesion in only a week. Now they had to be pressuring him to turn me over and end the fight with the Collective, but instead of saving his own ass, he was on the run again, trying to get me to safety.
I was just about a breath away from giving him a pep talk, but I kept my mouth shut. It was almost like I was starting to care about him, and that was impossible. Wasn’t he just drawing out my punishment and keeping me from my family?
Throughout all this inner wrestling with myself, I’d been keeping an eye out the back window and nudged Anatoli, who immediately looked up from poring over the map on his phone.
“What do you think about that silver car,” I said, twisted around to look out the darkly tinted window. “Three cars back, behind the bread truck.”
It had been hanging back, almost making a point not to get directly behind us or pass us, and our driver was sticking to the speed limit, causing most of the other cars on the highway to blow past us. As Anatoli turned to look, two of the cars behind us found the opportunity to change lanes and sped around, leaving the lumbering bread truck to fill in the gaps, the silver car staying steadfast behind it.
“I think it’s time we change cars,” he said, telling the driver to pull into a big rest stop with a restaurant and gas station that had been advertised for the last several miles.
He turned at the last possible second without using his indicator, and thanks to the bread truck still plodding along behind us, we narrowly gave the silver car the slip. If they were indeed following us, they’d have to take the next exit and double back, which would give us a few minutes to make the trade.
My stomach tightened with nervous anticipation, but I relaxed when I saw how busy the place was. The giant tourist trap was packed with cars, every gas pump had a line, and people milled around outside taking pictures of a big cactus statue or just stretching their legs while sipping cans of soda. It took several minutes of winding around the huge parking lot to find a spot, then the driver turned around for directions.
We’d gone over the plan in the forty-five minutes or so since we got the news about the attack on the house, and had been on the lookout for the perfect place to change cars. We couldn’t have asked for a better place. Anatoli would steal another car, and we’d leave in the new one. The driver would wait around and see if the silver car doubled back, then he’d lead them away on a wild goose chase, giving us the opportunity to continue to the Mexican border.
“We all good?” Anatoli asked as he leaned over the trunk, discreetly slipping a few tools under his jacket. He’d have to take the plates off one car and change them with the one he decided to steal, but I had faith he could do it all in only a few minutes.
“I could actually use a trip to the restroom,” I said, looking at the crowded convenience store in front of the gas pumps.
It was half the size of a shopping mall, brightly lit and packed with people buying snacks and t-shirts or big bags of ice for their long car journeys. Anatoli gave it an appraising stare, then looked at me, wearing jeans and one of the silly sweatshirts that had greeted me when I first arrived at the desert house. Most of them were left behind, probably ashes by now, and the only thing I wasn’t sorry about was being gone forever. This one had a big-eyed kitten on it, surrounded by sparkles. My hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and I had comfortable, plain sneakers on my feet. I would blend right in with all the other tourists.
