The Bratva's Captive (Wicked Doms 3)

Maksym takes my hand and nods. “We’ll go now,” he says, turning to me. “And Olena, we take nothing. Even our identities will change now.”

Hope rises in my chest.

A new chance. With him. In my home country.

I take in a deep breath, my gaze coming first to Maksym, then Nicolai.

“I’m ready.”

Maksym cups my jaw and raises my eyes to him. “Brave, sweet angel,” he says. “I’m ready, too.”EpilogueSix months later“Laina? Laina.” The persistent voice finally catches my attention. I look up to see Marissa, a teenaged Bratva daughter, grinning up at me. Her father and Nicolai’s father are best friends, and though she’s much younger, we’ve struck up a close friendship. She’s the little sister I never had.

“Wow,” she says. “You were a million miles away.”

Not really. Only about five thousand miles away. And I’m still not used to my new name. I still think of my home in Moscow, especially when something reminds me of when I first met Maksym.

“Come with me,” Marissa says. “I want to run today.”

I give her a curious look. Sometimes she gets a wild hair and does something foolish and reckless. Most of the time I can talk her out of it, but sometimes she gets us both in trouble.

She isn’t a runner, not that I know of, but when she shoots me a mischievous wink, I know she’s up to no good. So young and impulsive, her father has a guard on her at all times. Recently, she’s become Nicolai’s full-time charge. She’s young and sweet, though she’s been sheltered her entire life. God, don’t I know the feeling.

“Run?” I ask her. “You mean, like at the gym?”

“Nope, not exactly,” she says in a singsong voice.

Then she looks over her shoulder, secures her bag, and begins to run.

“Marissa,” I moan. I shake my head and follow her. She’s going to get us both in trouble, but hell, the girl is fun to be with. Maksym is not so impressed.

When we run by, Nicolai looks up from where he’s sitting, drinking a cup of coffee at the café. He jumps to his feet and scowls, spilling his coffee all over the place. Oops.

“This way,” Marissa says, as we near a bend. I duck where she does, slipping into a hidden passageway behind bleachers. We watch as Nicolai runs past us, his shoes pounding on the pavement.

“You are in so much trouble,” I tell her, shaking my head, when a deep voice arrests me from behind.

“As are you.”

I turn to find Maksym standing behind me, his arms crossed on his massive chest, his dark brown eyes stern but twinkling.

“Aw, Rafael,” Marissa says. “Can’t a girl have any fun?”

“Yeah, Rafael,” I say, stifling a giggle. I’m still not used to his new name. “We were just going for a harmless jog.”

“Come here, Laina,” he says, crooking a finger at me.

“Oh, have fun with that,” Marissa says. She’s a gorgeous brunette with hair so long it hits her butt, and wide blue eyes that look up to me with mischievous humor. She turns to run but slams smack dab into a solid male chest.

“Running again, Marissa?” Nicolai says, shaking his head. “I thought we talked about that?”

He takes her arm and marches her away. Her cheeks flush pink. I know that look. I wonder if she wanted to do just this, to provoke him to lecture her. “Did you forget I installed tracking on your phone?” he says.

She groans, sticks her tongue out at him, and Maksym chuckles when Nicolai half-drags her with him.

I walk hand-in-hand with Maksym back to the car that’s still running by the side of the road.

“Out of work so soon?” I ask him, grinning.

“Don’t give me that pretty smile,” he says, giving my ass a playful swat. “You know you’re in trouble. You think it’s okay to play those childish games, little girl?”

“She’s sweet and fun.”

“And she’s a child. That doesn’t mean you need to act like one.”

“Aw, don’t be so stuffy,” I say with a wave of my hand, even as my body heats with his warning. It’s been a few days since he’s had his way with me, and I’m so ready. He lifts me into the cab of his truck and buckles me in, but before he leaves, he bends down and brushes his lips to mine. I sigh into him, and his tongue sweeps into my mouth, leaving me breathless.

“Stuffy?” he says. “Naughty little girl. Do you need a session over my knee, angel?”

“Nope,” I say stoutly. I like this game.

“No?” he asks, shaking his head tsking. He shuts the door, then walks to the driver’s side. “I think otherwise.”

Sliding into his seat, his eyes come to mine. “So you’ve been a good girl, then?” he asks.

I nod. “You yourself just called me angel.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” he says, but he reaches over and gives my knee an affectionate squeeze.