Possessive Boss (Bratva Brothers 3)

Nikita pulls the vehicle through the main entrance as the guards open the gates for us. He makes a sharp left, and I'm about ready to run when he pulls up by my vehicle. I'm parked across the street.

He knew which car was mine. There are two others parked on the street in front of other properties.

What else does he know?

"Get out."

The rain pours, and I don't wait for him to change his mind. I step out of the SUV and hurry to my car.

Shit.

I lost my keys somewhere in the backyard after I climbed the fence. My phone is in the glovebox, but the doors are locked.

The rain never looked so good. I stride past my vehicle; it's of no use right now. Tomorrow, I'll deal with getting a locksmith to open the car and get a new key made.

I make it a block in the rain before Nikita pulls up alongside me and rolls down the passenger window. "Get in."

"I'd rather walk," I say.

Lightning illuminates the sky, and I shudder as thunder cracks overhead.

"I'm not asking." Nikita's tone is firm, and he inches forward at my pace as I walk alongside the road.

I'm soaked. My hair is dripping wet, and my dress clings to my body. "I'm not going back to your stupid dungeon."

"You'll catch a cold."

"That's an old wives' tale. Besides, I'd rather die from hypothermia than at your hands."

"Ouch." He hits the gas and takes off.

"Good," I mutter and watch as he slams on the brakes a block up the road. What is he doing?

He leaves the engine on; the hazard lights begin to flash as he steps out into the rain and grabs an umbrella. Is he worried about getting a little wet?

I have half a mind to jog between the two properties, but I don't want someone calling the cops because I'm trespassing. I've gotten myself into enough trouble for one day.

Nikita carries his dark umbrella, covering himself from the storm. "You're testing my patience. Get in the vehicle."

"You should stay dry," I say. "Don't come too close. I could give you the plague."

He snorts at my remark. "I said a cold, not black death. Come on. I'll drive you home." He grabs my arm and leads me unceremoniously back to his awaiting vehicle.

I'm afraid to ask, but the words spill past my lips. "Do you even know where I live?"

"I either follow you home or take you there, your choice," Nikita says.

"You're the first guy I know who's honest about being a stalker." I climb into the front seat, soaking the leather.

He shuffles into the driver's side and shuts the umbrella, staying remarkably dry for the heavy downpour outside.

"Do you have many stalkers?" He sounds concerned, but I'm sure I'm reading into it. Why would he care? He's just held me captive and is forcing me to repay my debt, which isn't even mine.

But who am I to argue semantics? If he's willing to take me back to the crappy motel, I can at least get a good night's sleep and deal with this shit show tomorrow.

Nikita emits a heavy sigh. "Address."

I don't know the address of the hotel. "I'll give you directions. Turn right at the stop sign," I say.

He doesn't answer me, but he does follow my directions, and when we pull up out front of the dingy motel, the silence is broken. "You live here?" he asks.

"It's a place to crash for a while," I say. I'm not proud that I foreclosed on my house, but I'm making the best out of an otherwise bad situation. I have a roof over my head and food on the table. The rest, I deal with as it comes.

"How about I get you a room at—"

"No, thank you." I don't need any favors. I already owe the bratva far too much. "I can afford the Sunshine Inn," I say. Anyplace else would be way out of my budget.

Nikita opens his mouth, but I shoot him a look, and he thinks better of it.

I unlock the SUV door and open it, not caring that the rain hasn't lightened.

"Be careful. This place can be rough."

"I can handle myself," I say.

He doesn't offer up his umbrella, but even if he did, I wouldn't take it. I don't want anything I'd have to pay for, including borrowing an umbrella. A little rain won't kill me. I'll head inside, take a hot shower, and climb under the covers.

"I'm sure you can," Nikita mutters. "Your car keys—" he says and hands them to me as I climb out of the vehicle.

"You're an asshole." I slam the passenger door shut and hurry to the third door from the left. At least the car keys have my hotel room key attached. I had assumed that I'd have to stop by the office and be let into my room.

Why had he let me stand out in the rain when he had my car keys?

What the hell is wrong with him? I hurry inside the hotel and lock the door. Not that it matters. I'm sure Nikita could break down the door if he wanted to get in.

Is that why he held my keys? Did he make a copy of them, like I was supposed to do of his home?

Well played.

I strip and head for the shower, turning the tap to hot. Steam quickly fills the small space in the bathroom. My skin is clammy, and I shiver as I step under the spray of the shower. The water stings until my temperature warms up enough to take the burning and tingling sensation away.

After a hot shower, I slip into my pajamas and shut off the lights. I'm not the least bit hungry, and I don't feel like going out into the storm to grab something to eat. There's probably a half-eaten bag of potato chips on the nightstand, but not much else.

I stalk toward the front window and push the heavy corduroy curtains to the side. Nikita is seated in his SUV. He hasn't moved.

Is he planning on staking out the motel all night?

I'm too tired to care. I shuffle back across the small room and climb under the covers.

* * *