Page 31 of The Bratva Sinner

I look at him. My best friend. My most trusted lieutenant. The man who has been at my side for years.

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I’m not giving her back.”

Damien stares at me for a long moment. Then, he laughs. It’s not a happy sound.

“You’ll get us all killed,” he says.

“Then we’ll die protecting her.”

“Maksim, you’re one of the smartest men I know. This is stupid.”

“I will not debate this.” I head toward the door. “Let’s go. I need to get to the club.”

“You think your brother will risk bratva resources for some girl you pulled out of a club?”

“I’m not asking him to.”

We walk out together. He gets in his car, and I walk to mine. I get in, start the engine, and take a second to think about what he said.

What the hell am I doing?

Damien’s right. I’ve broken every rule I’ve ever lived by. I’ve put myself, my people, and potentially my brothers at risk for a girl I barely know. Someone who would probably run the first chance she got if she thought she could survive out there.

She’s been through hell. She’s lost everything. And the world wants to take more from her.

I can’t let that happen.

Damien pulls in behind me. It’s one of my smaller ones; more of a gentleman’s club. Dark furnishings. Low light. Quiet. Private.

My club manager, a woman who calls herself Sapphire, greets me. I do these check-ins at least once a week. It’s all about verifying the books, asking if there are any problems, and checking in with the women.

Damien walks beside me. I’m not mad at him, and he’s not mad at me. We have these little arguments, and then things go right back to what they always are.

We stay for an hour. Damien and I are talking as we head for my car parked in the back of the building. I’m reaching for the car door handle when I hear the screech of tires on pavement. My instincts kick in before my brain catches up. I drop low, yanking Damien down with me.

The first shot shatters my driver-side window. Glass explodes over us. More shots follow.

“Get down!” I shout, though Damien’s flat against the ground next to me.

My car absorbs round after round. The metallic ping of bullets hitting steel fills the air. I count at least two shooters, maybe three, based on the angles. They’re using the building across the alley for cover.

One of my security guys comes running from the club entrance. He doesn’t make it three steps before a bullet catches him in the shoulder. He goes down hard, cursing.

I move toward him, but Damien grabs my jacket.

“Stay down, you idiot!”

The shooting stops as suddenly as it started. I hear an engine revving and tires squealing. They’re gone.

I’m up and running to the downed security guard. Blood spreads across his shoulder, but he’s conscious and swearing, which is a good sign.

“I’m okay,” he grunts. “Fuck. I’m okay.”

“Get him inside,” I order the other guards who’ve emerged. “Call our doctor.”

Damien’s on his feet with his phone out. “On it.”

My car is destroyed. If I’d been inside when they opened fire, I’d be dead. If I’d been standing one foot to the left, I’d be dead.