Page 62 of The Bratva's Forced Kidnapped Bride
If Anatoli was remembering the same man ramming his knee into the same spot less than a week ago, it didn’t show, and soon they were knocking back shots like they were long-lost frat brothers.
CJ danced around, trying to get a tray of snacks to everyone, but I took it from her and dragged her out of the fray. Her dog Artem got loose from wherever he’d been kept locked up and bounded around everyone’s legs. He made a beeline to follow us, and I knelt down to hug the scruffy dog who had grown twice his size since I last saw him.
“I really am happy,” I said, looking up at CJ. “It’s important you believe me.”
“I do,” she said. “And I really want to pick Anatoli’s brain about enhancements to that program of his.”
“I’m sure he’ll be delighted to get your input. He thinks you’re a genius.”
“It’s clear what he thinks about you,” she said. “Now let’s get back in before they freak out because we’re out of their sight for more than five minutes.”
We went back in and sure enough, Anatoli was scanning the crowd with a tense look brewing on his handsome face. I hurried to his side and into his outstretched arms, the only place I wanted to be, surrounded by family.
“You didn’t have to choose,” he murmured into my hair.
I shook my head, looked up at him to see the love radiating from his gray eyes. “I love you, Anatoli. There was never any choice. It’s always you and me.”
Epilogue - Anatoli
Three months later
I stretched out in the lounge chair on the deck of our brand new mansion. The view of the ocean was always relaxing after a long day chasing after one thing or another. However, on that particular day, I was already as calm as the cloudless sky, dark purple and indigo now that the sun had dropped below the horizon.
My new crew was shaping up nicely. A few of the guys were green and needed more training, but they wanted to be here in the US and were ruthlessly faithful to the Ovinko name. And the Fokins. Lev and I had been working together to take down a group that was encroaching on his San Francisco territory. We thought it might be what was left of the Collective, or the international group moving stateside to try again, but so far, we’d kept them down and manageable.
Masha’s hand stroked my wrist, her fingers chilly from the cold drink she just put down on the table between us. I turned to look at her, long hair loose and hanging down her shoulders, eyes as dark as the sea lay out before us beyond the sand. She gave me a contented smile, and our fingers twined together as we went back to admiring the view.
After a lot of discussion, she decided to put her own territory on hold until she got a little more experience as a leader. I knew she was ready, but I appreciated that she was being cautious for once. Her help with getting everything off the ground again had been priceless, and there was plenty of time.
“How’s the software coming along?” she asked.
After a mini war with Mat that lasted close to a month, he finally agreed to let CJ and me work together to further develop my information-gathering program.
“Just about ready for launch,” I said, turning to see her smile. A smile I’d never get enough of. As of now, we’d dialed back the program so it could be released for sale to the general public, as well as enhancing it for our not-so-legal uses. “It’s going to be huge, Masha,” I said, unable to restrain my excitement.
Even Mat was a whole lot friendlier to me now that my creation was going to be raking in the big bucks once it hit the market.
“I think I might overuse this word,” she said, still smiling. “But everything’s perfect.”
I nodded, waiting for the doorbell to ring, and the surprise I had arranged to arrive. Masha had been working tirelessly for both me and Mat, as if she had something to prove. No amount of praise or encouragement was enough for her, and I just decided it was her nature to always strive to be better than the best. An impossible task and one I hoped to distract her from with something else to focus on.
“Why do you keep looking in the house?” she asked, just as the doorbell finally rang.
I jumped up, pulling her with me, having already instructed the staff that only we were to answer the door that evening. Masha trotted behind me, confused, maybe even a little nervous, until I swung open the door.
A young woman stood there holding a leash attached to the world’s scraggliest rescue dog. At the first sight of Masha, the anxious dog instantly changed to a hyper love rocket, catapulting himself at her.
“Frederick?” she shrieked, dropping to her knees to wrap the small mop of fur in her arms. “What are you doing here?”
We had both fallen in love with CJ’s dog Artem, and Masha often went to the shelter that CJ and Mat supported to walk the dogs or help clean up the kennels. For the last few days, she couldn’t stop talking about this one dog, Frederick, the mangiest little mutt that ever existed. Skin problems, some kind of asthma issues, crooked teeth, and a chunk of ear missing. She was certain he’d never be adopted.
She was wrong.
“This is his home,” I said. “He lives here now.”
To my utter shock, my hard-as-nails wife burst into tears, hugging the dog so tightly that it started wheezing. The shelter worker handed over his blanket, toys, and a box full of medications and left before I changed my mind.
Gathering him up and still crying, Masha brought him into the house. “Thank you,” she sobbed.
