Page 7 of Surprise Bratva Daddy
He extends his hand, but I’d rather die than shake it. I recoil, backing myself against the sink. The knife is my backup, but I’m not even sure if I have the heart to use it. I’ve never been in a fight before.
Maksim closes the distance between us, lowering his hand. His expression follows, his eyebrows coming down so low that his eyes almost disappear. “We already have what we came for. It’s over for you unless you start talking. I’m sure you have some dirt on Zane.”
“Zane?” I ask, having never heard the name. “I’m sorry, but this is honestly a mistake. That package came to my house by accident. It was dumb of me to open it, but I promise I don’t even know what it’s for.”
Maksim chuckles, but his face stays rigid. He pulls a pistol from his waistband, pointing it at me. My stomach drops, my heart skipping several beats. This is really happening. I don't know who the hell Zane is or why I have the flash drive, but Maksim isn't taking chances.
He takes another step toward me, the barrel of his gun aimed right at my chest. "I've had a very long day, and I'm tired of playing games. Let's make a deal. You tell me everything you know, and I'll let you live."
"I told you, I don't know anything."
"Don't play stupid," Maksim hisses. "How did you get the drive? Either you're a dumb pawn for Zane or you're working close to him."
"I told you," I reply, my voice cracking. "It came to my house by accident. Someone dropped off a package and I thought it was a birthday gift."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Yes," I plead. "Because it's the truth."
Maksim cocks his head to the side, his hand tightening around his gun.
"Look," I stutter. "I can't give you any information because I don't have any. Maybe if you explain to me what this is all about, I can help you."
"You'd do anything to save your life?" Maksim asks, his tongue flicking across his lower lip. His eyes travel over my chest, and there's a hint of something warm in his frozen eyes. It's not the type of warmth that indicates kindness, however. It's something so much more devious than that.
I nod, trying not to cry. My body is shaking uncontrollably, and there's a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't understand what this is about or what he wants, but I have no choice but to comply.
"You can help me," Maksim grumbles. "You see, I've been in prison for a long time. I'm hungry. They don't feed us well there." He steps closer, pressing his knee between my legs. I'm forced to lean back against the counter, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
"Please," I beg.
Maksim reaches down and unbuckles his belt. I'm frozen in fear, unable to move. The knife in the sink is my only defense, but can I reach it before he shoots me? Would it be better to submit to him and allow him to ruin my life like this?
"Please what?" Maksim growls.
I turn my head away, squeezing my eyes shut as tightly as possible. I can hear his fingers fumbling with his pants, the hot air from his mouth wafting against my neck. Tears roll down my cheeks as I realize what I have to do. I'm not going to go out like this. I can't let such a horrid man have this much power over me.
I reach back into the sink and find the knife, my fingers curling around the wet wooden handle. Maksim doesn’t notice. He’s too focused on my body, his eyes popping out of his gaunt face as he imagines what he’s going to do to me.
But I’m not going to let it get that far. Just as Maksim pushes up against me, I pull the knife out in front of me to defend myself, the blade flashing in the light as though it’s winking at me.
Is it useless to bring a knife to a gunfight? I’m about to find out.
6
Zane
Idon’t have time to call for backup. This situation is critical. Someone has beat us to the punch, and they’ve already checked the mailbox. The rusty metal door to it is hanging agape like a broken jaw.
The sedan on the curb was the first sign that something was horribly wrong, but seeing that the front door to the house is open sets off all kinds of alarms in my head. They’re screaming at me so loud that I can barely hear my own thoughts.
I hold Kiro back before he can hop onto the lawn. “We’ve been compromised,” I mutter. “Stay quiet and shoot to kill.”
He nods, pulling a pistol from his jacket and cocking it. Kiro is always prepared. We have no idea what we might be facing. It could be an ambush. It could be Tema, here to make sure his package is retrieved. It could be a third party, one that could potentially cause the whole operation to fall apart.
I push open the front door, and the sound of my footsteps on the wooden floor echo through the small house. It smells like old carpet and lemon furniture polish, and it looks like it hasn't been updated in decades.
I have no idea why someone would leave a flash drive with insider stock data in the mailbox of a house like this. Surely, they'd realize it belonged to a regular person and not someone from the mafia.
