Page 65 of Bratva Bastard

Dimitry gave me the okay to stay at his place while Gemma and I searched for Crissy. Gemma was waiting for me at the airport, her big belly pressed against the steering wheel as she called out for me. “Over here, Maxim.”

I walked over to the car, chuckling at the sight. “You look like you’re squeezed into a clown car,” I teased between laughs as I got into the passenger seat. She didn’t have a bodyguard with her, but there was one following in an SUV behind us. I’d noticed she wasn’t fond of having bodyguards watching her constantly and liked her privacy.

Turning on my phone after the flight, I had several missed calls from Zoran again. “Oh shit,” I said, Gemma turning to face me with a concerned expression. “Zoran called. He may know something.

I called him back and Gabby answered. “Maxim? I heard from Crissy.”

“Hold on,” I said, putting her on speaker phone. “I’m putting you on speaker so Gemma can hear.”

“Hey, Gemma,” Gabby said, probably an acquaintance as well. “I spoke to Luiz. Crissy showed up on his doorstep a few days ago, dirty and injured. He said he treated her injuries and then took her home, but she told him that she and her mother would be staying in Arraial d’Ajuda with her grandparents.”

“Oh, that’s not far,” Gemma said, her tone perking up. “It’s a neighboring town.”

“Then let’s go,” I said. “Gabby, do you know where her grandparents live?”

“No. I’ve never met them. Her mom stopped talking to them when she was younger, and I rarely even heard Crissy mention them. All I know is that they live in that town, and that’s where Crissy is staying.”

“Thanks, Gabby,” I said, saying goodbye and hanging up, trying to be less rude than the last time I’d hung up on her.

I tried calling Crissy’s phone at least a dozen times in the car, hoping that maybe she’d charged it when she got back, but it went to voicemail every time. Which meant we’d have to look for her the oldfashioned way. By walking around town and asking the locals, “Have you seen this girl?”

When we got back to Dimitry’s house, I showered and changed my clothes after wearing the same thing for two days. The only plane ticket I could get had a long wait between flights, which made my entire travel nearly two days. Two days of the same sweaty, disgusting clothes. And because I’d gone straight to the airport after Sorokin’s, my clothes still had splatters of blood—which was fun explaining to the security at the airport as “paint.”

Dimitry said I could wear his clothes since I hadn’t brought my own bag, being a spur-of-the-moment decision to leave. After I was ready, Gemma and I left for Arraial d’Ajuda, only I drove Dimitry’s car this time.

I insisted she stay behind and rest, not wanting to put too much pressure on her pregnancy, but she said I’d need her help with the language barrier. So, she was tagging along to play translator.

Using a photo of Crissy, Gemma asked the locals if they’d seen that woman. Each one gave me a once-over and turned away. A few had actually stayed for a moment to look at the photo, but they would look around with hesitation, and quickly leave.

Were they suspicious of us? Did they think we were trying to harm Crissy? Maybe she told the people in town that a man was looking for her, and to hide her residency there.

That’s another thing to add to the list of shit I would kill Andrei for.

The town was small, so we circled it, searching every store and in-between. We asked damn near every local—or so it felt—but came up empty every time. After hours of searching, we called it a day. I was jetlagged, Gemma was pregnant, and we were exhausted. It was nearing sunset, so I drove us back to Dimitry’s, utterly defeated.

Knowing Crissy was safe left me at ease enough to pick up our search again in the morning.

One way or another, I would find her. We’d been apart for too long, and my heart ached every day we were separated.

I would find her.

31

Crissy

After my mother’s funeral, my grandparents took me out to get ice cream. Maybe they were living vicariously through the past, but even ice cream couldn’t stop the throbbing ache in my heart.

My mother was gone. Forever. I’d never get to brush her hair while having one of our talks again. I’d never get to see her smile or hear her lecture how I should marry Luiz. As much as I hated it at the time, I’d give anything to hear it now. Anything, if it meant my mother being alive.

We were walking back to my grandparents’ house after the ice cream when Mr. Santos, one of the locals, approached us. “Crissy, I need to speak to you.”

I looked to my grandparents, who watched me with apprehension. Do they stay or leave? I gave them the okay to head home. “Go on,” I said, forcing a smile. “I’ll be there soon.”

Figuring Mr. Santos wanted to grieve for my mother, tell me stories about how wonderful she was, I stayed. That was what everyone had done since they heard the news.

“Crissy. I hate to alarm you, but there’s a man in town looking for you. A Russian man. I don’t know if he’s the same guy that threatened you, but you may need to lay low for a bit. Don’t worry, no one’s told him anything. We’re looking out for you, girl. We won’t say a word. But you need to get home and stay there.”

Another local who’d overheard, came over. “I saw him too. Tall man, thick Russian accent. He was accompanied by a pregnant woman. Asked around town for you.”

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