The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3)

Within minutes, he's pulling off to a vacant lot where a car waits for us. Cruising up beside it, he rolls down his window. I can't see who's in the car with tinted windows, but not surprisingly the hand that reaches out is covered in tattoos like his are. These guys take their tats seriously.

Maksym nods, thanks the person in the car, then rolls up his window, and hands me three bags.

"Eat," he orders.

"Don't have to tell me twice," I mutter. "Who was that?"

"Stop asking questions and do what I say." He frowns. "You're growing too free, Olena. We aren't peers. You remember your place, or it will be my pleasure to remind you myself."

I barely stop myself from rolling my eyes, because something tells me he's just looking for another reason to punish me.

I open the bag and take out a breakfast sandwich. "You want one?" I ask.

"You let me worry about me," he snaps.

"You know, if we're like stuck with each other, you can at least be civil," I say before I think about it.

Without warning, he slaps my thigh sharply. "I told you to remember your place. No scolding me, no sarcasm. Behave yourself and do what I say."

Instead of heeding the rebuke, it angers me. Who the hell does he think he is? Does he think some muscles and a fucking God complex give him power over me?

My anger flares so quickly I can't stop it.

"Oh, for God's sake," I tell him. "You and your fucking God complex."

I wince as soon as my words fly out of my mouth. I've got a fucking death wish. If we weren't already back on the highway driving approximately a million miles an hour, I think I'd be toast right about now. Maybe I still am. I squeal when his hand wraps around the nape of my neck, squeezing.

"That's five," he warns.

Five, um, what?

"God," I mutter. "I'm trying over here. And uh... that would be five what?"

"Five smacks bare-assed over my knee," he says.

I don't miss the way his jeans tighten. He doesn't even bother to hide his erection.

The promise of punishment doesn't inspire fear like it should, though. The last time I was bare-assed over his knee I came like fucking dynamite. My cheeks heat with the memory of me naked over his lap, and I actually toy with the idea of ratcheting that number up higher before I blink and come to my senses.

"Fine," I mutter.

"Ten," he says sternly, giving me a sidelong glance. "Care to go to twenty?"

I tear open the breakfast sandwich and take a bite so big I nearly choke, mostly to prevent myself from speaking again. I chew and swallow, barely registering the taste as I demolish the sandwich.

"We've got some time," he says, his brows rising. "You can take your time eating."

"I'm just trying to shut myself up," I tell him around a fully stuffed mouth. "My mouth works before my brain does."

"I've noticed."

I open my mouth to retaliate, then stop myself from saying anything else with another mammoth bite of food. It's good, some kinda flaky bread thing wrapped around eggs and bacon, and my stomach growls appreciatively.

We're driving out of the city now, the paved roads giving way to a single road. On either side of the road are miles and miles of green grass and trees and soon, we're completely away from anything civilized. My heart races. He's taking me to some place remote. Off the grid. A hideaway no one knows about.

His home?

Now that I've eaten, my mind begins to clear, and I can think straight.

Far away from anyone and anything?

My stomach sinks.

There will be no means of escape. Nothing but me and my jailor.Chapter 9Maksym

I've never taken a woman captive before, but somehow, I imagined her behavior would be different. If she were afraid of me, would she be so quick with her tongue? But it appears she has no restraint over herself, as sometimes after she says something she shouldn't her cheeks flush pink, and she's even once or twice clamped her hand over her mouth. It's almost cute.

Demyan would lecture the hell out of me for not training her harder.

But there's time.

My purpose is different than his was. He wanted to teach his little captive a lesson. Though I will demand nothing short of obedience from Olena, she isn't the one who's incurred punishment, but her father. It's my job to keep her alive. She's no use to me otherwise.

This morning, Demyan told me that the video we took yesterday was somehow lost, the file corrupted. Demyan was apologetic when I told him Filip is a fucking moron. We will need to make another, but I'm waiting on contacting Yuri and his men. I need to out whoever knows she's here with us, and once I throw that gauntlet, the details surrounding our pursuers will be clearer.