The Fixer (Chicago Bratva 2)

“Trace her phone!” I boom to Dima and Nikolai as I come out.

“Oh fuck, really?” Dima says. “I’m sorry, Maxim. I thought she was in there.” He squares his shoulders off to his computer, and his fingers fly over the keys.

I want to shout and rail at them for losing my bride, but really I’m at fault. I should’ve stationed Oleg at the door like Ravil did when he captured Lucy. I didn’t want her to feel like a prisoner, but she’s already proven herself a runner.

Hopefully she’s just out shopping with my credit card. Proving to me and herself she’s not a prisoner, and she can do what she wants.

“Blyat.” Dima curses in Russian. “She’s in Los Angeles. I’m sending the tracker to your phone.”

Los Angeles.

Again, fuck me. That was where she went to college. She probably went to visit her friends. Or her old haunts.

I kick myself for not knowing more about her. I should have visited her when she was in college in the States. But I had no interest in tangling with her again. Not when she’d fucked me over so badly.

Besides, despite being kicked out of Igor’s cell, I still belonged to him. Which meant she was still considered way off-limits. Not that I had an interest in seducing her.

Or being seduced.

And I knew from experience that even a friendly visit to her could go way off the rails.

Dammit. Looks like I’m going to L.A.

I’m sure she loves this game of chase.

Well, she’s going to discover there are consequences to playing the brat.

I pack a quick bag and put my pistol in a gun case to be checked.

“You want us to go along?” Nikolai asks.

“No. She is my problem. I can deal with her.”

The idea gives me a slight surge of satisfaction. Punishment might be just what we need. I’m a dominant man in bed. I know how to inflict a little pain with pleasure. I could certainly make Sasha pay in a way that’s a win for both of us. Break down her walls and make her beg for satisfaction from me.

Maybe I have too much confidence, but I believe once she surrenders to me sexually, our battle of wills will cease. Right now, her walls are up too high. As long as she refuses to receive pleasure from me, she can continue to fight.

I grab a cab to the airport and get on the next flight out to Los Angeles.

Sasha

“The Russian is in the house!” I holler when Kayla throws the door wide for me. Just seeing the short, perky blonde makes me happy.

I prance past her and into the apartment like the queen returning to her castle. It looks very much the same—the bright red sofa and armchairs I bought with my father’s credit cards, the rug under the coffee table. Even the paintings on the walls are the ones I hung.

I didn’t buy my friends—at least I don’t see it that way. They gave me so much—but we did live completely off Igor’s money senior year. My friends enjoyed the free ride and, in exchange, opened their hearts and world to me.

“Don’t prance past me without a hug!” Kayla chides, giving me a girly slap on my butt. I turn, and she throws herself at me, squeezing hard. “I missed you so much.”

Ashley and Sheri are right behind her. “I can’t believe you’re here! How long can you stay?” Sheri asks. They are also degrees of blonde—it is California, after all—amplified with expensive highlights. Both could be models. When the four of us went out on the town together, we attracted massive attention.

A tall brunette I don’t recognize clears her throat pointedly.

“This is Kimberly,” Kayla says. “I met her doing dinner theatre. She took your room.”

“But not my place in your heart,” I say immediately, striking an old-time Hollywood actress pose.

“Never,” Sheri laughs. “So how long, girl? Do you have a place to stay? You can sleep in my room if you want.”

“I doubt I will stay the night. I ran away from my keeper, and he will probably catch up with me,” I say ruefully. “Hopefully not before we get to party.”

“Oh my God, you are so bad!” Ashley smacks my arm. “You gave Daddy’s bodyguards the slip again?”

I wasn’t under guard while I was at school—not like I was at home. But every once in a while, I’d catch a guy in familiar black tattoos following me. Taking photos to send to my dad. My friends and I used to toy with them, running over to throw ourselves at them, sit in their laps or lick their necks. Just to make them uncomfortable and throw the balance off. It was fun. I played that game on my own before, but my friends made it into more of a tournament. It became our goal to make my watchers squirm.