Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

When we pull back up along the curb in front of Jasmine’s bakery, the light in the kitchen is off. But I still have the spare key on my keychain.

“I don’t want to wake Isabella again, so—”

“Sleep here for tonight if you want,” Adrik finishes. “Or on the curb. In a ditch. You’re free to go and do as you please, remember? As we agreed.”

After we shook hands, Adrik was quiet. He sat back in his seat and tapped away at his phone like I didn’t exist.

I shake my head and ignore his coldness. “I’ll text you when she’s awake. And then we can… decide where to go from there?”

I glance over at him. He’s still frowning down at his phone.

I take a moment to study him. Even his profile is stunning. His nose is a perfect slope over full lips and a strong chin. It makes me want to grab his head and turn him to the light, examine him like a diamond, searching for imperfections I already know won’t be there.

Maybe if we’d met under different circumstances, things would be different. Maybe we could have danced together, talked, laughed. Maybe he would have asked for my number, and we could have…

I cut the thought off before it can flourish.

This is just a business deal and Adrik is just a business partner. How he looks is irrelevant.

The sooner I get that through my head, the better.

“I’ll find you later,” I decide.

I climb out. He hits the button to close the door before I’m barely on the sidewalk. The SUV rips away from the curb a moment later.

Only now, as the silence of the night descends around me like a weighted blanket, am I able to appreciate how insanely exhausted I am. I haven’t felt this dead on my feet since Isabella was a baby.

Her first few months of life are still a blur for me. I was coming down off of the emotional high of being pregnant, recovering from the trauma of childbirth, and dealing with a colicky newborn on my own without any support.

My father, for all the press releases he made about funding the new maternity wing of the hospital in my honor, never visited me once. Not at the hospital and not once I was home.

I exhale. I’m too tired to dig through my shit ton of emotional baggage right now.

Better to shove it down deep and save it for another day.

I shoot Jasmine a text to let her know I’m on my way up so I don’t scare her, and then I drag my tired ass up the stairs.

Futon, couch, plush rug… I don’t care. At this point, I could sleep almost anywhere. But not until I check in on Isabella.

The door to the guest room is cracked open. I push it open a few inches more so I can peek in.

At first, I think I just need to let my eyes adjust to the dark room. I blink and squint, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing.

Or, more precisely, what I’m not seeing. There are pillows and a blanket on the folded-down futon.

But my daughter is nowhere to be found.

Surely, she’s just… I throw the door open and flip the light switch.

It’s impossible to deny any more—the bed is empty.

She’s gone.

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. It’s like my lungs are being crushed. Like the tether holding me to the earth has been severed and I’m floating away into the ever-thinning atmosphere, grasping for something, anything, to hold onto.

Adrenaline spikes through me. I’m burning up with the need to move, to act, to hunt down whichever sick motherfucker took my daughter.

I spin on my heel—and slam directly into Jasmine.

“Shit!” She jumps back and shakes her head. “What are you doing here, Em?”

“What am I—Isabella!” I stammer. “I’m here for— where is she? Where’s Isabella?”

Part of me is waiting for a simple explanation. Oh, she’s in the bathroom. Something nice and innocent.

But that’s not possible for my baby girl. Her chair isn’t up here. If she’s not in the bed, then she’s—

“She left,” Jasmine says, befuddled. It’s the punctuation to my worst nightmare. “She’s gone.”

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone?”

Jasmine blinks at me, her brow furrowing. “After you and Adrik left, a car came. They said they’d been sent to pick her up and take her to meet you.”

“Someone took her and you didn’t stop them?!” I screech. “Or call the police?”

Malcolm. Oh, God. I don’t know how, but Malcolm must have found us. He found us, and he came to take Isabella.

It doesn’t make sense and there’s no real motive, but I can’t even think of another possibility. Who else would ever want to take her?

“Why would I stop him?” she asks, still bewildered. “Did you two get in a fight? Did something happen after you left?”

“Wait, who are you talking about?”

“Who do you think?” Jasmine snaps. “Adrik! The man you waltzed in here with tonight.”

Time slows. The seconds fold in on themselves, lengthening and bending until I’m sure it’s stopped altogether.

“Adrik told me he’d send a car for Isabella,” she said. “He… he told me that he’d take care of everything.”

“When did he say that?” I ask. “When, Jaz?”

“He said it when we were all downstairs. When we were…” Her voice fades out as she thinks about it for a second. “Actually, you were outside getting Bella’s wheelchair.”

“Right before he bought out your entire inventory,” I add.

Jasmine nods slowly.

It served me. Everything I do serves me.

He wasn’t lying. His “good deed” was nothing more than a distraction. He wanted to make sure Jasmine was so focused on ringing him up that she didn’t mention his plans to send a car for Isabella.

It also explains why he agreed to everything so readily. Why he let me get out of the SUV at all.

Because he knew I’d come crawling back.

And this time, it would all be on his terms.