Page 30 of Brooklyn Bratva

“Vanya always busy with work. No sense in make it personal.”

I blinked hard, staring down at my plate of goulash, reminding myself that it didn’t taste any less good just because he wasn’t here to enjoy it too. “No. Of course not. I know.”

“We keep a plate for him.”

I nodded, forcing myself to smile. “Yeah.” This was something I had to get used to if I was going to be a cop’s wife. Crime didn’t stick to nine-to-five and Ivan wouldn’t be the detective he was if it did. I was lucky really that he’d left a message at all.

Standing up from the table, I fetched another plate from the cupboard and dished up a generous helping before covering it, ready to go in the fridge. It wouldn’t be the same heated up in the microwave, but it was the best I was going to be able to do. “You think he’ll like it?”

Mrs. K frowned at me. “Is goulash. Vanya loves goulash. Why he would not like?”

“It tastes good then? Even though I made it.”

She patted me on the hand again. “Is very good Becya. You have family recipe now.”

I smiled, but even that thought didn’t stop me from worrying. He’d been set on keeping me in his sights, and yes, he’d been mad I made plans with his mom, but I didn’t think he was that mad.

Did he have second thoughts? No. This was definitely work. I wasn’t going to let some idiotic fear of abandonment take over.

I made to clear away the dinner plates, but Mrs. K shooed me away. “You cook, I do wash up. Is still my kitchen. Go relax.”

“Thanks Mrs. K.”

Ivan

I cursed again as the crowd parted around Ruslan, a bewildered milling hoard of people muttering about him pushing past and coming together again, oblivious.

I had my service weapon, but as soon as I drew it, someone would call the cops. I wasn’t here officially. I could do without backup asking questions. I needed to get Ruslan on my own.

The only thing I could do was flash my badge. “Police! Get out of the way!”

Ruslan looked back, locking eyes with me as he darted to the side of the boardwalk. I veered off course to follow just as he scrambled over the railings and dropped down onto the sand.

I was right on his tail. Vaulting over the top of the barrier, palm planted on the curved metal rail, I dropped rolling into a crouch to still my fall. Barely missing a beat, I took off after him down the beach.

The hours I spent cross training paid off. My calves felt no difference between the shifting sand beneath my feet and the harder surface of the boardwalk above. The length of my stride never changed.

Ruslan was struggling. Legs working slower as his feet skidded, slipping in the fine, dry sand, trying to force his way through each shifting step. He was losing ground as fast as I was gaining it.

A group of picnickers screamed as Ruslan stomped straight through their party, and I flashed my badge as I hared past, in hot pursuit.

Right up ahead an old lifeguard station would give me the cover I needed to get answers.

Three feet out, I lunged, tackling him to the ground. Ruslan went down like he’d been KOed.

We rolled in a tangle of limbs. He kicked out, his foot colliding with my side, and I hooked him solidly with my right fist. I barely felt him retaliate as I shoved him around, yanking him to his feet and dragging him under the shadow of the guard station.

Both of us were breathing heavily. My lungs heaved like I couldn’t drag in enough air. The only kind of rolling around I wanted to do was with Becca, but this fucker was taking up my time instead.

I wrenched his arm back, but Ruslan twisted, jabbing back at me high with a hard elbow.

I grunted at the solid blow to my solar plexus. Winded, I scrambled for my gun, but Ruslan got to his first.

Wheeling around, I heard the crack of a gunshot at the same instant as a searing stab of pain lanced through me, exploding in my shoulder, knocking me back with the force of the impact.

I growled, diving towards him, rattling off a shot of my own, but it only ricocheted off the tall pillars.

Ruslan grabbed onto the cross strut of the structure’s legs, heaving himself up with circus-like agility. The cornered rat was climbing, and if he made it to the top, he could disappear into the city all over again.

“Shit!”

I thought I had him cornered, but with alarming speed, Ruslan was climbing back up to the boardwalk level.

Holstering my gun, I made a grab for the rung with my good arm, wincing as I heaved myself up to follow him. My stomach muscles rippled as I took the strain one handed, climbing the structure as fast as I could without straining my wounded arm.

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