Page 63 of British Bratva: A Russian Mafia Romance

“One more go!”

Without a moment’s pause, she tugged her helmet off.

In the car, Sandra’s eyes widened in recognition and I heard her shout out. “Oh my God, it’s Elizabeth Harrington!”

Half of me wanted to brain her, the other half wanted to fuck her senseless. She didn’t need to take that risk just for this, but she had and she would do, because she knew we needed it. Fuck whatever Valentin thought, she was good as Russian.

The slim chance she’d had of slipping back into her old life had just gone up in flames. As of right now, she was officially on the run. Every effort I’d taken to keep her away from the consequences had gone up in smoke. And she’d just stated pretty bloody solidly that she was on our side.

God damn it, she was sexy when she got demanding, gesturing me to bring the bike back closer in. She was born for this. Just like I was.

She leaned out further than I could have with my bulk, making the most of her petite frame and the strength in her arms as she used the frame of the car to hold herself, head ducked into the window.

This time, it took her a matter of seconds to grab the data stick, and she leaned close to tuck it into the zip pocket on the front of my leather jacket before she pulled her helmet back on.

“Let’s go!”

One hand high, she gave the universal OK gesture to our entourage, and the mopeds peeled off, zig zagging up the road.

I gunned the engine and let it rip, practically igniting the road beneath us, rubber burning as we licked a straight line right up the centre of them. The pair of us in black from head to toe, and the bike flashed deep, bright red. We must have been no better than a streak of color to Sandra’s stressed out eyes.

Sirens shrieked behind us, and I made it to the first junction ahead of our moped team. They scattered, peeling off down different turnings, and I bore us on, before doubling back towards the underpass, killing the speed.

I hated to have to ditch the Ducati, but we had no other option.

In the shadow of the bridge, the guy who’d snatched the folder handed it back over. Adrenaline high, there were handshakes and squeezed fists. I slapped shoulders, nodding thanks.

And we ducked into the Addison Lee car I’d had waiting in the layby. We’d been using them to courier drug deals and to sub in for getaway cars for years and they always proved useful. Respectable private hire taxis couldn’t easily be held to account. Especially when it was all individual drivers and cash in hand.

“We’re always in your debt. Don’t worry, a Russian always looks after his friends.”

Elizabeth slid onto the leather back seat, into the far corner, already pulling off her black jacket and wiggling out of her jeans, unashamed about changing in the back of the car. I’d made it clear to her the best way to vanish was to be completely different from what the police were communicating over radio.

I slammed the car door closed behind me, leaning in to take a deep, deep kiss, thoroughly turned on by the fact that Elizabeth was wearing the data stick around her neck like some kind of pendant now. And not much else.

“Sergei, let’s go. Drive carefully.”

“You got it Maxim.”

I caught his eye in the rear view mirror and I glared at him as his eyes started to wander towards Elizabeth.

“Eyes on the road Sergei.”

He gulped audibly. “Right you are mate. Don’t want to get pulled over for any funny business in the back, that’s all. The windows aren’t that tinted, you know what I’m saying?”

I didn’t care. I wanted her, right then and there. The woman was going to be the death of me.

She had me ready to go, zero to sixty, and I loved the way she pulled herself hard against me, letting me arch her back against the seat as I kissed my way down her chest. Her thighs spread to wrap around me and my hand slid down her hip, my thumb hooking the side of her knickers and drawing them down.

Elizabeth’s eyes locked onto mine. “Wait until we get home, Maxim.”

CHAPTER 25

Elizabeth

Maxim was all over me, riled up like I’d never seen him and I realised he was utterly turned on by my performance on the back of his bike. He wasn’t the only one still riding on the adrenaline.

If there was ever any doubt that I wanted to be a part of Maxim’s life in the Bratva, it was gone now. I’d loved every minute of cornering Sandra’s car. I was going to replay the look on her face when I took my helmet off a million times over.

---