Triplet Babies for the Russian Bratva Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance by Rosalie Rose

Author:Rosalie Rose [Rose, Rosalie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-18T16:00:00+00:00

12

Andrei

“I’m OK,” she says, as I walk in and lock the door behind me. I spent much of the day patrolling town, checking out-of-town and rental plates, and eying drifters who might be discreet operatives for Marya.

But it seems the war was on the home front today, and I wasn’t even here.

Bentley is in the kitchen, washing dishes. She wears a sweatshirt and leggings and thick socks, her hair damp from a shower and her hands shaking as she squeezes out the sponge.

I manage to evade the cloud of black rage that comes thundering through me. “What happened?”

“Don’t,” she warns, eyes widening, a hint of fear in them. “Don’t do that. Go all Russian-mafia crazy and not listen to reason.”

“Reason,” I bite out. “What. Happened.”

“A man came. He didn’t tell me his name. I thought it was you, pulling up in the drive, and I—” Her eyes fill with tears. But after a moment, she manages to compose herself, not even letting a single one fall. “He forced his way inside—”

“Did he touch you?” The rage is red now, crowding in at the edges of my vision, blotting out reason, reality, as I imagine the impossible. Bentley. My Bentley. In harm’s way—because of me? My laziness? My naivete? My decision to hide, off the map, like a fucking coward? To put off the inevitable war knocking at our door?

“No. Not like—” She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself. I finally see the full scope of the damage: her black-bruised neck, rapidly swelling; a gash across her cheekbone, evidence of a pistol-whip, clear as day; a fine split in her lower lip. Her eyes are too-bright, haunted, fearful as prey. “He told me…”

“What?” I ask. I need evidence. A face. An accent. The words. I will find the man who did this, and I will make him beg me for the mercy of death. “What did he tell you?”

“He told me he’d been watching me,” she says softly, looking away. “Since I got into town. That he sees me through the windows, and that he…likes me. He likes watching me.”

What? I stare at her. Waiting.

“He had a Southern accent. Florida, maybe? I don’t know. He seemed homeless, I think. A drifter. You know how Castle attracts them.” She swallows with some effort, hands going tenderly to her swollen neck. “But he said he was leaving town now. He sees you here, and he didn’t want you to find him and hurt him. He said he wanted to see me in person, just once. And then he left.”

“And when,” I say, hearing my voice emerge a growl, “in all this conversation, did he do this to you?”

“I fought,” she says, sounding almost saddened. “I fought him when he came in, but when he started talking, I understood he didn’t really want to hurt me. He was just a crazy stalker or something, Andrei. I don’t know. But he’s gone now.”

A very long, heavy silence stretches out between us.

“Do you really expect me to believe that?” I ask.

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