Page 9 of Caught By the Bratva Boss

“Who’s Jinx?” he asks, making my whole body tense with fear.

My plan to ignore him goes right out the window. I sit up and see my laptop in his hands and feel my heart drop down into my stomach.

“He’s no one. Leave him alone. He had nothing to do with this.”

He holds the laptop up and gives it a small shake. “Looks like he had a lot to do with it actually, and it also looks like he has access to the tracker you put on me, which means he knows where I was the other night.”

“Why the hell does it matter where you were that night? What, you afraid your wife or girlfriend will find out about some affair you’re having?”

He doesn’t answer me, and when I scowl at him, the side of his mouth quirks up a bit. God, the man is infuriating. Walking closer to the bed, he looks down at me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly disappointed that he’s now wearing a dark grey T-shirt and no longer bare chested. I find him more tolerable when he’s showing more skin.

When he’s standing right in front of me, my knees less than an inch from his legs, he reaches up to grip my chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“You’re turning out to be a real pain in the ass, Charlie.”

“You’re not so great yourself,” I grumble, and I swear I see a slight upward twitch of his full upper lip, but it’s gone so quickly it makes me doubt it was ever there at all.

“My men are looking for this Jinx person, and if they find him first, then I’ll have him killed.”

When I try to jerk my head away, he tightens his grip on my chin, holding me still.

“If you tell me where he is, then you have my word that I won’t have him killed unless he forces my hand.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask. “You can’t just go around holding people prisoner and killing people.”

“Yes, I can,” he says, and his voice is so fucking calm that it makes me want to scream.

He lets go of my chin and kneels down in front of me, opening my laptop and showing me the chat box filled with messages from Jinx asking if I’m okay. He must be worried sick, and now I’ve gone and brought a whole bunch of trouble to his door.

“The choice is yours, Charlie.”

I take the laptop and meet his dark eyes. “You promise me you won’t hurt him?”

He holds my gaze and gives me the smallest of nods. “You have my word that no harm will come to him unless he forces my hand.”

“What the hell does that even me? I feel like that’s a loophole that means you can kill him whenever you want and still say you’ve kept your word.”

This time there’s no denying the amused look on his face. “I can do whatever the fuck I want, but I don’t give my word lightly, and when I give it, I keep it. It also means that I won’t kill him unless he leaves me absolutely no choice. But if you don’t tell me where he is, Charlie, my men will find him, and when they do, it’ll be a bullet in the head for your friend. You have my word on that as well. You fucked up, little one, and got in way over your head, so you either help me fix this, or his death is on you.”

“Fine, I’ll help,” I say, taking the laptop.

“Smart girl,” he says, sitting down next to me. “Now, tell him you’re okay, make up whatever excuse you need to.”

He watches me as I type out a message about there being a guard dog that I had to evade and how I thought I was being followed so I was too shaken up to answer right away. Jinx seems to buy it. His only concern is for me, and that makes me feel a hundred times worse.

“You care about him,” Mikhail says. “A little word of advice. If you’re going to get into a life of crime, it’s best not to form attachments. They’re the first people your enemies will go after to use against you.”

“Are we enemies, Mikhail?”

He looks at me, studying me for a few seconds, and then ignores my question, and instead asks, “Are you hungry?”

I nod my head yes as he takes my laptop back and stands up. “Follow me then.”

Before he decides he’d rather just slip me some food through a crack in the door, I jump up and follow him out of the room. He stops by the door that was locked earlier, and I peek in to see an office with a large desk made from the same dark wood that peppers the rest of the house. The carpet is a cream color that I imagine is a bitch to keep clean, not that this guy is the one cleaning this place. I’m guessing he has a whole team to keep the place spotless. A man like Mikhail doesn’t scrub toilets and floors.

“Aren’t you worried about me trying to run?” I ask, noticing that his back is still turned to me while he sets my laptop down.

He shoots me a look over his shoulder. “Try it, little thief. I fucking dare you. See what it gets you.”

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