I stomp over to look at the photo. “Mother. Fucker. He’s a dead man now.”

“He’s a nobody,” Ravil says. “This is not his operation. Whoever has Galina must’ve sent him to do the dirty work.”

I glare at Dima. “Find him.”

Dima shoots a helpless and stressed look at Ravil, but then returns his focus to his screen. “Checking domestic flights to Chicago under the false alias.”

I pace the living room.

“Put that away in here,” Ravil commands.

I hear his words but I’m not listening.

“Maxim.”

I look over.

“I said put that away.” He lifts his chin in the direction of my hand.

I look down to find I’m palming my gun. The safety is off.

Fuck. I put the safety back on and shove the piece in my waistband. “Give me something, Dima. If I don’t put a bullet between this guys eyes tonight, I will fucking lose it.”

Oleg stomps over to me. He stands at least a head above me, his shoulders half again as wide as mine.

“What?” I snap.

He drops a giant ham-hand on my shoulder and then lowers his head.

If it were anyone else, I’d probably punch him, but Oleg so rarely tries to communicate, I force myself to receive his condolences.

But it’s a mistake. I suddenly can’t breathe, grief tearing at my throat, making my eyes burn. I wheeze and drop my hands to my thighs, trying to draw a breath.

Fuck. Sasha’s dead.

My beautiful, smart, funny, lively, incredible wife is dead.

She’ll never brighten this room again with a smart remark. Never toss that red mane of hers. I’ll never get to see her act.

I never saw her act!

I try and try, but I still can’t breathe. My heart pounds, my throat’s closed tight like a fist.

I want to die.

Yeah.

Living without her isn’t worth it.

So I let myself choke out. I stop trying to breathe and stumble to one knee. My head hits the coffee table on the way down. The blackness that follows is relief.

Chapter 19

Sasha

“I’m hungry. Are you guys hungry? Should we order up some room service?” I decide the best course of action is to playact with my mother that I’m on board and everything is perfect. Until I figure out what my options are and what I can do.

I still desperately want to get to Maxim, to ease his heartache. I want to believe that he’ll take me back and somehow save my mother from her folly.

But I suspect even if Maxim took me back, my mother’s life would be forfeit. And as much as I hate her for this terrible plan, it’s not enough to want her dead.

Right now I’m the definition of stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“Alexei will get takeout,” Viktor says. “Right, Alexei?”

“Great.” Sending Alexei out sounds like a stupid idea to me considering the cops are still out there, but I don’t argue. I’m pretending to be agreeable. And I really am hungry.

“Mama do you have a nail file?” I try to sound casual. I don’t have a phone, but maybe I could get a hold of my mom’s. Just to let Maxim know I’m alive. That I love him. That this wasn’t my plan.

Of course, I don’t even know the man’s number! It was programmed in my phone, which went up in flames in the car, along with the burner phone and everything else in my purse.

My mom produces her purse from one of the dresser drawers and hands me a nail file. I pretend to file my nails as I eyeball the contents of the purse. I don’t see a phone but that doesn’t mean it isn’t in there.

“I don’t have a toothbrush,” I muse.

“We can buy all of those things,” my mother says. “Alexei will get one when he’s out. And tomorrow we’ll leave for Russia.”

Russia. That makes my stomach twist into an even tighter knot.

Farther away from Maxim. From my heart.

“Do you have a passport for me?”

“Da. We have everything,” my mother says. “Once we are in Russia, I will hire an attorney to get our money. Then we’ll be free forever, Sasha. You and me.”

You, me and two guys I don’t trust an inch not to off the both of us when we get the money.

Although Viktor does seem to care for my mother.

Alexei turns off the television and stands. “All right. I’ll get the food.” He walks out the door without asking what anyone wants.

Asshole.

Also—duh. Of course he’s an asshole. An asshole who probably wouldn’t hesitate to put a hole in my head if I don’t pretend I’m totally on board.

At first, I thought the worst. That I’d be lucky if I made it out of this hotel room. But the more I think through it, the more I realize that might not be true. I have to remember—they didn’t kill me down there. And they could have. So my mother is running this show. She does have sway over Viktor and Alexei, or else, I’d already be dead.

Tags: Renee Rose Chicago Bratva Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net