Page 145 of Wicked Vows (Suvorov Bratva 2)

“I’d love to.”

I glance at the mirror behind her, freezing when I see the guy from the sidewalk. He’s not even looking at me, but it feels like he’s keeping close to me.

You’re just paranoid, I tell myself. I force a polite smile as I wish Donna a nice day.If your brother wasn’t pakhan of the Suvorov Bratva, you wouldn’t even be worried.

But I am worried. I’m always worried. I’m always thinking about the things that my brother does.

I may not be involved, but I’m still family. And family always pays the price in full. Especially now.

With my coffee in one hand and my overflowing basket in the other, I hustle out of the shop and start making my way home. I slip around the corner at the end of the block and watch the passing foot traffic. Just to be sure.

Most pedestrians are older folks, joggers, businessmen, and tourists. None of them seem menacing. None of them seem to care that I’m standing in the shadows. In all actuality, I don’t think any of them even notice me.

The peaches guy isn’t among them. He’s probably long gone by now.

Relief causes me to shrug.That’s enough excitement for one day.

Even though I’m sure I’m fine, I avoid taking the usual route home. I turn left and follow a series of grid-locked streets, knowing it’ll still spit me out in the same place. As I walk, I shake my paranoia, tilting my head toward the sky.

It’s barely noon, yet heat pricks the back of my neck and makes sweat slither down my spine. Even in shorts and a tank, it’s sweltering out here. Autumn may be around the corner, but there’s no hint of it coming anytime soon.

A few more turns put me back on the main avenue I need to follow to get back home. Traffic is normal. No weird peach guys. I sip my coffee, feeling a small sense of victory.

My phone rings in my left pocket. I’m too preoccupied with the delicious taste of caffeinated iced mocha as I slide around other pedestrians and avoid collisions with kids on skateboards to worry about answering. Once the city streets drift away, longer roads open up to more open neighborhoods. I live just on the other side of this slice of urban utopia where wealthy folks send their kids to boarding schools.

It won’t be much longer until I’m in my kitchen with my goodies.

A towering brown fence guards one of the street corners. Evergreen vines climb the fence, crowding over an archway that leads into a gorgeous backyard garden. As I round the corner, I practically slam into a tall guy. Peaches scatter on the ground. My coffee flies out of my hand. The plastic smacks the sidewalk before I can save it.

“Oh no!” I groan.

“Sorry about that.”

I shake my head and bend to grab the peaches. He swipes them up before I can grab them. As I straighten my back to smile and thank him, my heart stops.

I recognize him from the market. And the window. And the coffee shop.

The sound of an engine rumbles nearby.

“Going home, Karina?” he asks. His hazel eyes glitter with mischief as he juggles the peaches. “This isn’t the road you always take.”

I take a step back. “Who are you?”

“A friend.” He winks. That gesture holds so much malice now. “Of your brother.”

“My brother’s friends don’t look like you.”

The guy looks far too amused, expertly juggling the peaches like he’s just rehearsing for a performance. That engine sound grows louder.

I swallow my fear and reach into my rear right pocket slowly, wrapping my fingers around the jar of pepper spray that Pavel gifted me.

I never thought I would need it. But it’s a good thing I have it now.

The guy steps forward. “Don’t worry. You won’t feel a thing. It should be nice and—” He catches all three peaches. “Quick.”

As I back away from him, I realize the sound of the engine is right next to me. It’s a gray van. The door slides open and reveals a couple of hooded goons in the back. I pull out the pepper spray and hold it out in front of me, spraying the peaches man square in his eyes.

He drops the peaches and wails as tears flood his face. He staggers around blindly while the other two men try to close in. I toss the basket at them, turn around, and high-tail it up the road.

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