Page 32 of Forced & Owned By the Bratva Boss

Taking my phone from my pocket, I text Sergei.

Me: Come to the guestroom.

He texts back immediately.

Sergei: Yes, boss.

I take one last glance my wife, satisfied when I see the rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps peacefully, and then I leave the room. I’m barely halfway down the hallway that leads to the guestroom when Ruslan calls my name from the stairs.

“Igor.”

Halting, I turn around to face my brother, who’s running up the stairs, completely flushed with panic. “I’m still alive.”

He steps into the hallway and his eyes widen when they meet my bloodstained white shirt. “What the fuck happened?”

“There was a suspicious shipment at the port tonight. Joaquin alerted me. Long story short, we were ambushed on our way to Montero.”

His brows crease with a deep frown, and his eyes are red with murderous rage. “Someone did this on purpose. They lured you out to try to kill you.”

I nod. “I figured that out already, but it’s now a question of who would be stupid enough to do that?”

He taps his temple thoughtfully, then sighs. “We’ll figure that out later. Let’s get you stitched up first.”

We make our way to the bathroom in the guestroom.

Ruslan pulls out a first aid kit from under the counter, then disinfects my wound and wraps a bandage around my ribs. Luckily, it was only a graze and the blood’s pretty much clotted, so there’s no need for stitches.

“Are you okay?” Ruslan asks, staring at me with concern after he secures the bandage.

I shake my head. “She got hit.”

“Who? Audrey?”

I nod, turn around, and clench the edge of the sink. The rage I managed to suppress earlier starts creeping back in. “I swear I’ll kill those fuckers when I find them.”

My brother lets out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t think Joaquin is behind this?”

“No way. He’s a cunning son of a bitch, but playing front man while laying down an ambush isn’t his style. I need to speak to the Mexicans, see if they can give me some intel on what went down tonight.”

A knock on the door has both of us turning our heads at the same time. I yell for whoever it is to come in and Sergei walks in, holding my other phone, the one I use for business calls only.

“It’s Joaquin.”

I take the phone from him and press it to my ear.

“Nazarov,” Joaquin says over the phone, his voice a little louder than I can tolerate. “I heard about the ambush. I was worried you’d be dead by now.”

My fingers tighten around the phone and I scoff. “Who’s behind it?”

“I don’t know, but I have my men on it already. I’ll let you know when I have more information.”

Of course he will. He seems to be forgetting that whoever set the ambush used him to lure me out of the house tonight. I’m used to assassination attempts and everything that follows them, but what I’m not used to is almost having my wife killed.

“I’ll be at your place in an hour. You better have something useful by the time I arrive.”

He starts to say something, but I don’t wait for it. I end the call and toss the phone to Sergei.

“You can’t possibly be thinking of going to Joaquin’s casino. You can’t trust that fucking bastard,” Ruslan says.