Page 99 of The Bratva Sinner

“No,” I agree. “He really wasn’t.”

The foal shifts in the straw, and Willow nuzzles her. She was already an excellent mother.

Mama wasn’t like that. I know she loved me, but love and tenderness aren’t the same thing, and she only had so much of either to give. Some nights, I’d come in from the barn smelling like horses and sweat. She was at the kitchen table, nursing a beer and a cigarette, and she’d look at me with sadness. I thought she was just sad in general.

I knew better now.

I don’t want to cry. I can’t open that door. I’m still figuring out how I feel about her and the lies I’ve been told my whole life.

“Come on.” I push off the door. “I’m starving.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he says.

“So. It’s not like we have to be up in the morning.”

“What do you want?” He falls into step beside me as we walk out of the stables and into the night air.

“Something with lots of carbs.” I tilt my face toward the sky and smile at the stars. Out here on the property, with the lights low, there are more than I expect.

We make sandwiches that are stacked with enough meat, cheese, and condiments to feed twenty people. Back home, I was lucky if I had cheese and lunch meat to put on the sandwich at the same time.

But that’s not my life anymore.

“I want to get out of here,” I tell him. “I’m ready.”

“Get out?” he asks.

“Get a coffee or take a walk. Go to the beach. You have a beautiful home, but I’m starting to feel claustrophobic.”

“Can you give me two days?”

“Two days?”

“I’d like to take you out, but I need to make sure it’s safe.”

It’s not a request, and that pisses me off. I hate that I don’t have a choice.

But I also like to breathe. I inhale and fight against my knee-jerk refusal. My need to argue and reject hisrequest.

“Fine. We both know I don’t have a choice.”

We finish our sandwiches and walk past the guards. When we get to the top of the stairs, I have a choice to go to my room or his.

I take his hand and walk to his room. Where I belong.

And that scares the hell out of me. Since when did I belong with him? Maksim Sokolov. Easily one of the most dangerous men I’ve ever met, not counting the assholes who kidnapped me and murdered my mother. I think Maksim might be even more dangerous than they are because he’s smart. He gives no fucks. Those guys are told what to do. Maksim is the guy who just does shit.

“I need to tell you something,” he says when we’re lying in bed with him cuddled against me.

“What?”

“Briar started the fire.”

I go still against him. “What?”

“Briar.” He says it again. “I think she’s the one who disabled the sprinklers and started the fire.”

I turn over so I can see his face in the low light. “You think, or you know?”