Page 6 of Tangled Vows

Some small, rational part of me whispers I have no reason to fear these men so far. I want to trust the doctor’s words that Viktor Yelchin abides by a code that forbids harming trafficked women. That they pride themselves on showing mercy. That they are not brutal to the ones unfortunate enough to get snatched by psychopathic criminals. But how can I feel safe when I’m surrounded by professional killers?

Wiping my eyes, I walk over to lean against the balcony railing for support, taking even breaths. The safe house occupies part of a beautiful three-story Spanish style residence. Creamy stucco walls draped in flowering vines. A red-tiled roof tops the elegantly arched windows. The Mediterranean beauty surprises me given its fortified position. Viktor spared no expense securing our isolation. Even a blind person could see that.

As I observe the tactical advantages, a shiny black car gliding through the open iron gates catches my eye. I spot two familiar figures stepping out, and my heart starts to flutter in my chest. Squinting against the bright morning sun, I watch Leonid stride around to the passenger side. He looks sharp and imposing, dressed in a dark sweater and black slacks. The dangerous image softens when he smiles and laughs at something his partner says. A genuine warmth touches his usually stern features that makes him appear years younger.

Ivan shakes his head as they walk up the front steps, his handsome face twisted into a broad smile. My cheeks warm, realizing I’m ogling them. I’m actually watching those two and enjoying it. With a nervous glance around the empty balcony, I surrender to temptation and continue observing the pair.

The easy smiles slip away as Dmitri opens the door and leads them inside. Those men are back to business.

A small twinge of something that feels much like disappointment goes through me when they disappear from view. It was good while it lasted.

Biting my lip in frustration, I turn and brace against the railing again. Why does seeing Leonid make me feel attracted to him? And Ivan, too, for some reason. I haven’t exchanged more than a few sentences with them, and I’m drawn to them like a moth to a flame.

You’re drawn to the fact that they saved your life, I argue with myself. You don’t know anything about them, besides the fact they’re high-ranking members of the Russian mafia.

Rubbing my temples, I stare out across the expansive gardens. Various foliage sculptures dot the manicured lawn while stone pathways meander through. It’s beautiful. Peaceful. It’s like a slice of heaven. I’m starting to realize it’s been done like this for a reason: to lead guests into thinking they’ll be safe and sound here. These deadly criminals don’t live in a state of constant violence like what television and movies portray. The two I’ve met have been complete gentlemen in their brief interactions with me. Almost protective.

My thoughts circle back to Leonid wrapping me in his warm, leather jacket that had still smelled of his rich cologne. I bet he carries a gun wherever he goes. He should, otherwise his enemies could take advantage with ease. Yet, those strong hands treated me with such care while we were trapped in close proximity during the SUV escape.

Ivan, on the other hand, moved with quick tactical precision, getting everyone to safety. He was more restrained, but his bronzed skin and sharp intelligence left an equally strong impression. He’s classically handsome, like an old movie star—minus the vivid snake tattoo curling up his neck. A glint had entered those sea-blue eyes when he’d asked my name. Not lewd interest; I’ve seen that and I can recognize it from a mile away. It doesn’t really float my boat. Ivan’s glance was something deeper, perhaps. Curiosity, maybe? But why?

Groaning under my breath, I rub my tired eyes again. This whole situation feels surreal. I’m ogling dangerous mobsters and getting flustered, remembering how warm and safe I felt wearing Leonid’s jacket. Like his giant presence could shield me from an entire army. It was purely an instinctive emotional response to trauma...right? That’s exactly the issue. I don’t know what brought on my reaction. Perhaps it was the abduction. I have been through an ordeal. Maybe it was the warmth of that jacket. Or, perhaps I loved it so much because a gorgeous stranger had offered it to me and it still carried his scent.

Captivity has screwed up your ability to think rationally, I scold myself. Taking a few more deep breaths, I attempt to get back to the real world. I repeat the doctor’s reassurances like a mantra. No one here means me harm. These powerful men have shown nothing but concern for our care. Once the police investigation around the warehouse is over, hopefully, I can give my witness statement and return to a normal life.

As I turn to go back inside, I spot one of Viktor’s men exiting a sparkling Mercedes down below. He heads into an outbuilding near the rear gate, appearing to be a gym from the equipment just visible through the open door. A bench, a leg press and some weights line its walls. I sigh, wishing I wasn’t up here. What I wouldn’t give to lose myself in the mindless peace of a hard workout right now instead of sitting trapped, stewing over my chaotic thoughts.

Maybe I’ll ask Dmitri about using it later. Physical activity always helps clear my head so I can sort through problems. Anything to avoid sinking back into panicked helplessness. If what Dr. Yuschenko and the others insist is true, then Leonid and Ivan don’t plan to hurt any of us. Surely, they’ll allow access to the gym if I promise to stay within sight of the guards.

With that reasonable plan bolstering my courage, I turn and stride back inside, determined to stay strong. I touch the faint bruises on my wrists, reminding myself that while the worst may be over, dangers likely still lurk nearby. But we found protectors in this powerful Bratva brotherhood—whether by chance or by fate. I cling to that hope with everything I’ve got.

Chapter Four

Leonid

I leave my Mercedes in the parking lot, treating its door like it’s made of silk.

Not just because I like that car a lot, but also because I don’t like to make noise. My eyes scan the street up ahead, searching for anything suspicious. After fifteen years in the Bratva, I’ve learned that a man can never be too careful. Being caught off guard can get you killed.

For the person in charge of Viktor’s northern territory operations, this level of caution is necessary. I know of a few men who would chop off their arm to have my job. To run things for my Pakhan and enjoy the perks of the life. This is what I have to watch out for, some crazy bastard with enough firepower to think he can earn some respect by taking me out. Still, despite the danger, I’m not going to regret the power and the rewards of this life. Never have—never will.

There’s just one thing that might lead me to doubt this.

Running into Clare Jensen.

I cross the street and reach up to loosen the knot on my tie. My mind has been spinning in about a hundred different directions since I found those kidnapped women. Thinking that someone could have carried out this sort of shitty business right under my nose makes my blood boil in my veins. This is why Viktor gave me the job of managing this area. To make sure that I snuffed out whoever wanted to make money by treating women like cattle.

I failed him. I fucked up. Big time.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there’s something else that’s been bugging me.

I promised to protect those kidnapped women. To make sure they got back home in one piece. Instead, all I can think of is the one woman who was shivering so much that I had to give her my jacket. The girl with the dark-green eyes: Clare Jensen.

What the fuck?

Calling this weird wouldn’t do it justice. No. This is not just weird. More like crazy. Unlike me. A rookie’s mistake. Or even a boy’s fuckup.

I’ve been in the Bratva for far too long to be acting like this. I’ve been known to keep my shit together and my focus where it should be: on business. My ambition is too high for me to be held back by a woman. Every time I need to get laid, all I have to do is reach out. It’s easy for a man in my position to find a lady friend for the night. Easy and free. So, why the hell am I still thinking about this Clare girl?

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