Page 71 of The Bratva's Auctioned Bride
Chapter 21 - Diomid
Angelika is sitting on my lap in the front seat of the car. Dark, tinted windows hide us from anyone who might be watching, but I’m not really worried about that. The absolute chaos caused by the smoke bombs is still going on around the front of the building.
I honestly thought I’d lost her in there. I thought something had happened and I’d never see her again. I would never have forgiven myself.
Grabbing her tight, I hug her again, shaking my head, trying to push the horrible thoughts from my mind.She’s safe now, she’s right in your arms, she’s with you.
“Where is Oleg?” Angel asks, looking up at me.
“He has the girls; they’re bringing them out now.”
“But you’re missing out on that, don’t you want to go help him?” She knots her brows in concern.
“No, I want to be right here with you, princess. Nowhere else in the entire world.”
“I’m ok, Diomid, I promise you. You can go if you want to. I’ll wait here, I won’t move,” she reassures me.
I scoff. She doesn’t get it. I can’t leave her side. I can’t move away from her. She is my entire world, and she doesn’t even understand.
Movement draws my attention, and I look up to see Oleg jogging around the corner of the building with about seven women, protectively surrounded by our security team, headed for the van.
“Get them inside. Five in the van, the other two in the third car. Move. Let’s get the fuck out of this shit hole,” Oleg shouts, and his men split into two teams, some moving toward the van we came in, others toward the third card parked behind me.
Oleg jogs to my window and waits for me to roll it down.
“You guys good?” he asks, grinning from the hype.
“Yes, you?”
“Excellent. Fucking great,” he blurts out. “We blew out the doors on five store rooms. Only two of them were occupied. These were all the girls. I set up chargers in the venue. They’ll blow in ten, so we should leave, likenow.”
He winks at Angel. “Well done,princess,that was impressive,” he says, calling her by the nickname that only I’m allowed to use on her.
“Alright, Rambo, move along. Let’s get going,” I say, closing my window on him. He’s laughing, high on adrenaline, as he runs toward the van.
I start the car and ease out of the parking area, watchful in case we’re being followed. But they have other things to worry about, including another fight that’s broken out in front of the venue after several cars crashed into each other in their rush to escape the smoke bombs.
Angel sits on her knees on the seat, facing backward, her eyes on the chaos.
“Sit down and buckle up,” I demand.
“Wait… I want to see when the explosions go off,” she says, holding onto the headrest.
“Angel, princess, I need you to sit down.”
“No, I want to see it,” she huffs.
I shake my head, grinning. She’s a firecracker all right.
Instead of turning left to head straight home, I turn right to drive up a small gravel road that leads to a quarry and a hill overlooking the warehouses.
I park in the dark, hidden from view, and switch off the engine.
“What are we doing?” she asks, sitting facing forward.
“Watching,” I say, gesturing toward the warehouses below us.
She bites her lip, smiling.
