Page 27 of Wicked Mafia Sinner

"Put me down, you lug! I can walk just fine." I'm damn tired of getting thrown around like a doll.

“Da, but I’m faster and there’s a lot of glass.”

Touché.

He makes the mistake of putting his hand on my ass. I snatch my phone from his grip just as the screen lights up.

Raine. “Thank God!” I try to tap the answer button, but I can't and tug the end of my towel in place. I have to let the call roll over to voicemail.

“Son-of-a-bitch,” I grit out.

Volkov steps over downed bodies and hauls ass the last few feet out the hole where my front door used to be.

We cross my little front yard and I'm shoved inside a car the size of...

"Wait. There's no way I can sit down in that thing and not flash everyone. Why does the door open sideways?"

I don't get a chance to protest more. I'm unceremoniously plopped onto a warm leather seat that feels like smooth butter on my bum.

"It's fancy like that. Now be a good girl and stay put."

I blink up at the Bratva man too stunned to speak. But that doesn't mean my body has the same problem. Self preservation has me out of the seat, hauling my towel up one second and down the next. I can either cover tits or ass but not both.

“No you don't.” I'm pushed back in and this time the massive mafia man leans his body over mine. It's a tight squeeze and he's a big man. My puckered nipples graze against taut pecs.

Bright blue eyes meet surprised violet.

I give a half shrug. “What? It’s not like I can say “at ease, soldiers” like they obey me on command.”

I swear to all that is holy the man grins and then he’s all business again. “Stay put, Cora Vale.” With that my ex's father snaps my seatbelt on and I'm pinned to the seat.

“I don’t even know your name.” I’ve racked my brain since landing against his chest tonight, but nada. “I can’t keep calling you Daddy Volkov.”

Heated eyes turn to me and something flares with a fire I’ve never seen in a man’s gaze before. “You what?”

I swallow the embarrassment and tap my temple. “In my head, anyway,” I quickly add and file away his reaction to think about for later if I survive.

He tugs the belt to make sure it’s secure and then says, “Rowan.”

With that he grabs something off the ground and then tosses my phone onto my lap. And then he’s moving.

Through the windshield I watch him pull my destroyed front door closed. He tests the frame and adjusts something with his shoulder. Another minute of working the tattered entrance and he's jogging back to the car.

I spy high beams shooting down the street and I rap my knuckles on the glass.

“Hurrryyy!” I gesture toward the incoming hitmen and he hot foots it back, sliding into the driver’s seat.

"Why did you just waste all that time on a broken door?"

Blue eyes meet mine in the glow of the dashboard as he cranks the engine.

"Put the door back?” He shrugs like the answer is obvious. “Make the fuckers think it's locked and you’re still inside. It will buy us time."

My stomach clenches. "Okay, that’s not a bad idea. How many goons does your son have on his payroll anyway? I want to know my odds of survival."

The engine roars and the car tears away from my house. My back presses into warm leather and the seat sticks to my damp skin. My towel is twisted sideways and I fight to keep it in place as my ex's father weaves us through city traffic.

“I do not know. More than you can fight off alone is the only answer you should care about.”