Stalked By the Mob (Miami Mafia 1)

Chapter25

Getting from the mansion to my apartment without any of Alek's men stopping me proved to be an exercise in problem solving and patience.

Neither of which were my strong suits when I was trying to be sneaky, and also beat the clock.

It was only after I managed to get out of the window in Alek's office and over the gate around the border of the property that I felt safe enough to message for an Uber to pick me up. Then I messaged Alek what was happening.

Well, I tried calling him first, but the bastard still wasn't picking up. The jerk had cameras all over my apartment and couldn't pick up the stupid phone when I called?

I really hoped he was just being a jerk, and there was nothing more nefarious going on.

Except Alek wasn't the type to "hit it and quit it". He had fully committed to the obsessive boyfriend role. If he wasn't answering the phone now, there was a reason.

If Borya had something to do with this, I would kill him myself.

It was impossible not to freak out the entire drive over, so I coped by sending mass amounts of messages.

I asked Alek where he was. He didn't respond.

Then I started messaging everyone I could, starting with Becks.

Don't go home. There's a weird guy there. I'm taking care of it.

That was probably an understatement, but I didn't know how else I could put it. Then I messaged the number Borya had called from and hoped like hell he would answer.

I can't get a hold of Alek. Did you do something to him?

A stupid question to ask the person who could have hurt him, but I was still convinced that he was trying to help his brother in a strange, misguided way.

A strange, misguided way that might involve killing me, but still came from love, nonetheless.

Becks messaged back a hasty,WTF? Who is in our apartment?

Borya’s messagewas just as urgent.  What did you do to Alek?

I'd beat the apartment in ten minutes, and the driver was thankfully one of the silent types. Or he was good enough at reading my body language to know not to even bother.

I had no idea how to answer Becks, but I gave it my best shot.

Danger. Please stay away.

I hadn't given the driver the actual address of the building, but the block over. Then I'd just have a short walk to rehearse what I could possibly say to Borya, but my mind was still drawing blanks.

He'd already made up his mind about me. My only hope was to stall him long enough to talk to Alek. Hopefully he could talk some sense into his brother. My main goal was to keep Borya away from Becks.

But I never made it up to my apartment. Everything collided like a perfect storm.

The first thing I saw was Borya leaning against the outside of my building like an ominous gargoyle. The fact that he was here made me growl in anger, but I was just grateful he was out of the apartment.

For once I felt lucky that my apartment was such a "shithole," otherwise Borya would probably still be waiting for me up there.

But then my heart leapt in my chest when I saw a familiar blonde head down the street.

Becks. I never should've texted her. Of course she raced right home to danger instead of staying out of it. After all, she was always the one to protect me, not the other way around.

I shook my head frantically, trying to signal her to get the fuck out of here, but she frowned and, of course, ran towards me.

Borya started to approach me, and I turned all my attention to him, hoping like hell I could keep him from noticing Becks doing a death march over here.

What would he do if he saw her? Maybe nothing. Maybe start shooting.

Borya was hardly the poster child for mental stability. I opened my mouth to start to think of something to say to distract him from the shitshow that was supposed to go down when the windowless black van pulled up beside me.

Borya seemed just as surprised as I was, even though he must've recognized whoever was inside, because he immediately started speaking Russian to whoever slid open the side door.

I had no idea what was going on, but I automatically knew that a windowless black van equaled bad news for everyone.

Becks must've realized the same thing, because even she had stopped in her tracks, taking out her phone to snap a picture of the license plate, not that I thought this car would be able to be traced anywhere.

I started to back away but ran into something hard and solid. Before I could pull away, arms closed around me, clamping me against a hard chest. The rest happened in seconds as I was pulled in, the door was shut and everything went dark.