Page 23 of The Bratva's Virgin

“It is.” I filled him in. Told him everything about Mike Collins, the money he owed, and the hostage situation with his daughter. Igor didn’t sound pleased.

“That son of a bitch,” he cursed in Russian.

“Hold on to the girl a while longer,” he said, and I conceded.Never planned to let her go.“We’ll fish him out, and I’ve got the best guy for the job. Rafa.”

I smirked. Trust him to pull out the big guns. “Thanks, Igor.”

“No need to thank me,” I could imagine his eyes lit up and the ghostly smile on his face. “No time for the sappy shit. We look out for each other. It’s what we do. I’ve got to, uh... I’ll keep in touch.”

The call disconnected and I turned around, feeling triumphant. Rafail Varkov was a cousin to the Pakhan, Vlad, Damien, and my boss, Igor. He lived in Russia, but we’d met on a few occasions. Very traditional and well-respected in the organization. He was one of the best in the business.

“Boss?” Pavel looked up expectantly.

With a brisk wave of my hand in the air, I reassured him. “We’re going to find the bastard. For sure, this time.”

Chapter 8 - Vanessa

I paced the floor. Back and forth; past the bedpost, to the door, and back again.

Again.

And again.

I’d been in motion, not taking any necessary action for minutes now, wondering whether to dare or not. I hadn’t seen him since last night.

After...

I picked at my fingers and chewed on my lip. He’d locked the door and most likely thrown away the key. No words or communication since. If he even remembered my existence, that might have been a miracle.

But I had to see him.Neededto see him. Staying locked up in here was doing no good. If he wasn’t going to come to me, I would take the bull by the horns.

My bare feet padded the floor, past the bedpost, to the door. I turned around and stopped. Then, spun to the door again. My heart pounded fiercely against my ribcage; the sound almost deafening. Sucking in a deep breath, my hand latched on the cold steel knob, pressed down, and... it didn’t move.

No surprise there. It was locked.

I pressed a thumb on my forehead and sighed. It seemed like I would have to try the “help the prisoner” method. I exhaled and pounded my hands on the wooden door. “Hello?”

Silence.

I tried again, banging harder and louder than before. “Hello? Is anyone there? Can someone hear me?”

Harder.

“Hello!”

I raised my hand, but before it harassed the door again, the locks turned, and the knob twisted. Instinctively, I took astep back. Annoyed blue eyes stared back at me. Definitely nothim. This one was much younger. Had short blonde hair and a tall, lean stature. He wore a black shirt and black jeans.

The man I wanted to see could cover my entire frame with just his shadow.

This guy? Not so much.

I lifted my brow, feeling a sliver of confidence slip in. “And who are you?”

He hesitated, unsure whether to speak. He parted his lips, deciding on the former. “Arseni. What do you want?”

I cleared my throat. “I need to talk to Alexei.”Alexei.I realized, since I'd heard it, I hadn't said his name out loud. It felt foreign rolling off my tongue. Foreign but natural; like I could get comfortable with it.

“No.” His response was fast, clipped as if he’d rehearsed it for this very moment. My brows furrowed and I took a daring step forward.