Page 56 of Bratva Bastard

The trees, the ocean in the distance…that rock! It looked like a photograph from my memory, I could see it so clearly. If I just continue that way for another couple hundred yards, I should pop up just outside of…Luiz’s apartment complex.

I was just outside Trancoso!

Using every bit of strength I had, I sprinted forward, until the roofs of the building came into view. The townhouse-style apartments lined the lot, and I ran to number 20, Luiz’s.

His burgundy car was out front, so I practically leaped over the stairs to his door, pounding furiously like a deranged lunatic.

I didn’t care if the neighbors were peeking through their curtains, pointing at the insane woman beating down Luiz’s door. After the trauma, the exhaustion, I only cared that Luiz answered his door.

Finally, I heard his footsteps grow closer from the other side, but I didn’t stop banging. Not until I saw that door swing open.

“Crissy?” Luiz asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. His eyes scanned the dirt that covered my body, and the twigs that stuck out from my frizzy hair. My clothes had tears, my wrists were bruised, and tears poured from my eyes like a faucet.

He pulled me forward, into his embrace, tucking my head against his chest as he ran his hands through my hair. Well, through may not be the best word, since my hair was knotted and tangled. But he patted my back, comforting me before he even knew what was going on.

Luiz. Always a gentleman.

He ushered me inside, walking me to the couch as if I were wounded—and for all he knew I was. Grabbing a blanket, he wrapped me up like a burrito, getting me a cup of coffee with two creams and four sugars, just the way I liked it. After he’d taken care of me like a newborn, he sat down in the chair diagonal to me, and cocked his head to the side with his eyebrows raised.

I wasn’t ready to explain to him what the hell had happened because I wasn’t even totally sure, myself. Pieces of my days were hazy, and I had no idea how long I’d even been gone.

“I need water. I haven’t had water in days, and I’m really dehydrated.”

He jumped up from his chair, coming back with two bottles of water, unscrewing the cap and handing me a bottle.

“Thanks,” I muttered before tipping the bottle back, downing half of it in one gulp. But I paced myself and held back, not wanting to get sick and throw up the water I’d finally drunk.

He tossed the cap on the coffee table and took a sip of his tea. “First, I must ask, are you okay? Did anyone hurt you? Do we need to call the police?”

I nodded, shook my head, nodded again. I wasn’t sure how to answer, and he could sense my conflict. I knew because he had this weird twitch in his left eye when he was focused.

Should I call the police? What would I tell them, that I was kidnapped by a man who wanted to force me to have an abortion? Or that he kidnapped me in some sick revenge ploy? Even I couldn’t believe it. If I told them that, I’d also have to explain my month-long fling with a man from the Bratva. Telling them would just bring in more complications, and probably end up with Maxim in jail. No. I couldn’t call the police.

“No police,” I muttered, not saying anything else.

“Okay,” he said, his tone soft. “Let’s try this. Are you wounded?”

“Nothing too bad,” I mumbled.

“Do you need bandages? Gauze? Where are your wounds?”

I held out my wrists, my legs, arms—my skin was covered in scrapes and bruises beneath the dirt.

Luiz got up for the second time, disappearing down the hallway and returning with his first aid kit. I scooted down the couch so he could sit beside me and tend to my wounds. With a warm, damp cloth, he wiped away the dirt, patting gently every time I winced.

We sat in silence, as he wiped me down, applied ointment, and bandaged me up. But after a while, he sighed.

“Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?”

I chewed on my bottom lip, thinking about what I’d say. “It’s just…a lot to take in.”

He nodded, not asking another question for the remainder of my visit.

26

Maxim

Dimitry burst into my room in the middle of the night, shaking me awake. “Maxim! Wake up, asshole!”

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