Page 23 of The Bratva's Christmas Bump
Igor’s meaty hands are suddenly around my throat, and I choke violently with how quickly he cuts off my air supply. There’sso much pressure rising in my face that heat flares behind my eyeballs while my chest throbs and my heart stalls.
He slaps me once, then clamps that hand over my mouth and nose.
Something unlocks inside me and I fight. I fight like a wildcat caught in a trap. I hit him with all my strength, kick him with everything I can muster, scratch his arms and pull his hair like my life depends on it.
Because it does.
Suddenly, my shoe slips off in the struggle and blue-tie immediately yells in pain. The car swerves dangerously and dislodges Igor from my body. The moment his grip slackens, I suck in a deep breath and attack his face, clawing and scratching at his eyes until he’s the one yelling. He slaps me again, then we’re all suddenly launched forward as blue-tie loses control of the vehicle.
I don’t wait for him to fix it.
My seatbelt snaps free and I open the door and throw myself out onto the cold, hard road where I land with a grunt and roll several times thanks to the momentum of the vehicle. Car brakes screech, but I’m already on my feet.
With one shoe, I turn and sprint, gasping through tears and throbbing lungs.
And I don’t look back.
9
MAXIM
“Hollie?”
No one answers. My penthouse is completely dark and silent.
Fighting a yawn, I head toward the bedrooms hoping that she chose one and climbed into bed without a second thought, but every room is empty, bathroom included. Even the home gym and balcony are abandoned, leaving me with a rising, uncomfortable worry in my gut.
Where the hell is she?
I’m in the process of putting a call down to the lobby when the elevator doors slide open and I’m face-to-face with a breathless Toto. I glance up briefly, confused why the announcer didn’t tell me the elevator was in motion, then fix Toto with a glare. “Where the hell is Hollie?”
“She’s not here?” he gasps, sagging against the elevator frame. “Shit.”
“What do you mean,shit?”
“Why didn’t you pick up your phone?” Toto waves one hand while still struggling to catch his breath. “I sprinted all the way to the club because you wouldn’t answer, and Stu was there telling me you were already on your way here, so I sprinted all the way back!”
My phone lights up showing twelve missed calls from Toto. “Fuck. I must have slipped it onto silent. What the hell happened?”
“Your dad didn’t leave. I sent Hollie up here as you asked, but when I was down there, I saw that fucker Yannis or whatever his name is. So I followed him and realized your dad was still up here, but by the time I got up here, he was gone and so was Hollie.”
“Motherfucker—” Unlocking my phone, I delve straight into my tracking app. “When he called me to deal with the Italians messing with the warehouse, he told me he was back home. Fucker lied.”
“Sorry, Boss,” Toto gasps, finally managing to catch his breath. “By the time I got back down there, Yannis was gone too, but I got no clue where.”
“It’s alright. If Hollie kept her wedding ring on, I’ll know exactly where she is.”
“And if she didn’t?”
Our eyes meet and the rest goes unspoken. I’ve spent the last two days doing everything I can to keep Hollie safe from everyone, including my father. Instead, he orchestrates a fight between us and a rival Italian family to draw me away from her, knowing I would never bring her along to such a violent altercation, and placing her firmly in his crosshairs.
“Got her,” I say, pushing Toto lightly into the elevator with me. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, he pulls up on a disaster. My father stands in the middle of the road illuminated by the flickering headlights of one car. Another car, presumably the one he was in, is crashed just down the right-hand bank, resting against a tree with smoke rising from the hood.
“Where is she?” I bellow before I’m even entirely out of the car. “Where the hell is she?”
Toto follows me and Stu, who met us in his own car, flies out of his vehicle with his gun raised as my father’s personal guards, Yannis and Frederick, move to position between my father and me. Several red claw marks streak down Dad’s face and he clasps a bloodied tissue in one hand.
