Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64993 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 325(@200wpm)___ 260(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
I hesitate but then shake my head. I may have doubted Natasha before, but I was wrong. She wouldn’t do that. She’s not mean or vindictive, even when angry at me.
He nods at Maxim. “All right. You talk to Natasha—she wants no part of Dima right now.”
Even though I knew that, having Ravil say it out loud guts me.
I go to my room, unwilling to hang out in the living room with the living. But once I’m there, I don’t know what to do with myself. It feels like so long ago that I was cyberstalking Natasha’s on the building security feed.
She was just a fantasy then. An obsession, but nothing I’d ever act on.
Now I know her. I’ve tasted her. Held her. Kissed her and laughed with her. Now she feels like mine. And yet nothing could be further from the truth.
The place on my finger where I wore Alyona’s ring marks the change in me. Everything’s different and rearranged inside, but was it too late?
I sure as hell hope not.
Natasha
I order a drink at Starbucks and look around. Alex isn’t here yet. He was totally punctual the other times we met up, but I don’t read too much into it.
I feel both hollow and heavy at the same time. Sort of like I’ve been filled with sand. I don’t want to be here.
Interacting with any other human would be painful at the moment, but I especially don’t want to talk to Alex. He’s another one who used me. I wasn’t even his fall-back friend. I was just a target he used to get to my friends.
And yes, I do still consider them my friends even if I’ve had it with all of them. They’re still my community. My people.
But maybe he did really care about me. I read all the texts he sent over the last week. The ones Dima intercepted and replied to. He apologized. Said he felt bad for involving me and that he knew I wasn’t a part of the bratva. He said he liked me, and he hadn’t been faking the good times he had on our dates.
I’ll bet that one drove Dima particularly nuts.
I sit down and wait. Time crawls. Five minutes goes by then ten.
Seriously? What. The. Fuck? Alex is standing me up now?
Well, screw this. I did my part. I’m not going to waste any more time here. Not when I just spent the last week as a pseudo-prisoner in the forest for the bratva. I stand and walk out.
“Natasha!”
I turn in the direction of my name to see Alex in his car at the curb. He gives me a wave. “Sorry I’m late.”
I walk toward his car.
“You already had coffee?” He glances at the cup in my hand.
“Um, yeah.” I turn and look over my shoulder at the Starbucks. I really don’t want to go back in. I’d already thought I was off the hook.
“I couldn’t find a place to park. Why don’t you hop in? I’ll drive you back, and we can chat in the car.”
The Kremlin is only a few blocks away but whatever. I was supposed to get some answers from this guy.
I pull open the door and climb in. He pulls away from the curb and maneuvers into traffic. “Did they put you up to this?” he asks casually.
I should have been prepared for the question, but my brain has been too occupied with not thinking about Dima that it makes me choke on air for a moment. “What makes you think that?”
“You said you wanted nothing to do with me but then here you are. What made you change your mind?”
I muster the anger I have for him and wave it like a sword. “I don’t know, maybe I wanted to tell you off in person. I didn’t appreciate being used, Alex. Do you know how stupid I felt when I found out you’d only asked me out to get to the bratva? And do you have any idea the position you put me in with them? Those are my friends, Alex. I live in their building and rely on their good will! I’m incredibly lucky my mom and I didn’t get kicked out.”
Alex’s friendly mask slides away. “You think they’re the good guys?” he demands with more anger than I would expect from a federal agent.
That’s when I realize he hasn’t circled back toward the Kremlin. Which means… I don’t have a clue where he’s taking me.
“You live with criminals. Murderers. Accepting the goodwill of an organized crime brotherhood is pretty, twisted, Natasha.”
“Where are we going?” I demand, gripping the door handle. Maybe I can jump out at the next light.
But that’s when he jabs a giant needle right into the top of my thigh and depresses the plunger.
I grab his wrist to pull it out, but he’s already finished.