Brutal Boss (Bratva Brothers 1)

“That isn’t necessary. I can deal with it during my lunch break.”

I hit the gas, and we roll right out of the garage around the long, paved driveway toward the gated entrance. My men see the vehicle approach and have already opened the gate for us.

“When?” I overheard her conversation yesterday with her friend in the elevator. “Didn’t you say you barely get a break, let alone a lunch hour?”

“You were listening!” Madisyn says with a laugh and pointing at me.

“Was I not supposed to be? We were stuck in an elevator together.”

“I wouldn’t use the word stuck,” she quips. Her shoulders relax as she glances out the side window for a moment, and then her attention is dedicated back toward me. “Stuck implies that you couldn’t be anywhere else, like the elevator was broken. But you were with me for what? Thirty seconds? Maybe a minute, including the time for the elevator doors to open and close.”

“Well, I couldn’t escape. So, stuck it is.” I’m sticking to my guns. Why the hell not?

I’m never wrong.

No one ever questions the authority of a Pakhan. They know better, but this girl doesn’t know anything about who I am and what I do for a living.

“Escape?” She stares at me and bursts out laughing. “You are crazy. Oh my gosh. I stayed overnight at a crazy person’s house.”

I glance at her briefly. “You’re just figuring that out?” I ask, returning my attention to the road.

Traffic is getting heavy, and I don’t need to slam into another vehicle because I’m paying more attention to the hot blonde sitting next to me.

“Usually, the response for that is thank you,” I grunt.

Her brow furrows as she examines me, her eyes raking over my body. “You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who looks for a lot of acknowledgments.”

She isn’t wrong. I don’t need someone sucking up to me or patting me on the back for a job well done. “What makes you say that?” I shoot a look at her before gripping the steering wheel harder.

The SUV dings, and I bring my attention to the light on the vehicle’s dashboard.

“Is there a problem?” she asks.

I need to fill up the SUV. Luka left us with barely any gas yesterday, and the fuel tank is nearing empty.

While the ice has melted from the road with the sun out, it’s still frigid and the kind of job I’d have pawned off on Luka or any number of my men to handle.

“No,” I grunt.

She leans closer and glances at the dashboard, noticing the fuel light. “It means you’re almost out of gas.”

“I know that.” I glare at her. Does she think I’ve never driven a car before?

“You need fuel to make the engine go,” Madisyn says, her face dead serious. “You can’t drive a car without it. Like oil or wiper fluid.”

“Oh my gosh. You’re too much.” I can’t take it anymore, and she actually gets a chuckle from me. Was that her plan all along? To see me laugh. “Wiper fluid isn’t a necessity.”

“Well, it ought to be. When you’re living in Ohio and after a snowstorm driving on the highway, you can easily run out of windshield washer fluid. Then it’s dangerous if you can’t see through the glass, especially when the sun is setting, heading westbound.”

“Aren’t you chatty this morning?”

“I did have two cups of coffee,” she says with a reddening grin, like she’s confessing to being naughty and in trouble. “I’m not normally allowed caffeine.”

“Is that so?” I pull into the driveway of a gas station. “Sorry, it’s going to get cold in here for a few minutes.” I shut off the engine and step out into the brisk winter air to fill up the vehicle.

Every so often, I glance into the vehicle toward Madisyn. The tinted windows make it difficult to see much of anything.

I should drop her off at work and vow never to see her again. It’s not like I’m doing her any favors by befriending her, and besides, I don’t need any friends.

I’m a loner. I have my men to depend on, and that’s more than enough. That’s all I need.

Finishing up with filling the tank, I rush back into the SUV and out of the cold. “I’ve never been so grateful for Luka,” I mutter.

“What’s that?” Madisyn asks, giving me her undivided attention.

“Luka usually fills the tank up for me.” I pull out of the lot and back onto the road. “What time do you get off work?”

“Are you asking me out?” There’s a wry smile on her face.

Damn.

Does she hope that I’m asking her, because I wasn’t?

“I was finding out what time you get off work so that I might drive you home.”

She forces a smile. “I don’t want to put you out more than I already have. I can have one of the girls give me a lift home.”

“What time do you get off work?” I repeat the question. It’s not that I need to run her around town or have my men accompany her. It’s that Nikita is right. She is a nurse and having someone in our inner circle when we need it isn’t such a bad thing.

Besides, I want the opportunity to get to know the woman I let crash on my couch. I won’t be satisfied until I’ve seen the inside of her home, combed through her belongings, and am confident that she is one hundred percent authentic.

Generally, I have a decent indicator of bullshit and trouble. Madisyn falls high on the trouble meter, but I can’t distinguish the difference between her causing me trouble because she’s a woman, and I don’t need a relationship, and her being trouble.

I pull up out front by the lobby near the entrance. “Eight-hour shift, you do the math,” Madisyn says. She’s upbeat, sunny, a little too normal for my taste.

“I’ll be here.”

* * *