Hunted By The Bratva Beast: A Bratva Stalker/Captive Romance, Jagger Cole [good books to read for 12 year olds .txt] 📗

are literally on the polar opposite ends of the legal spectrum. Or that we grew up under vastly different circumstances. It’s that at our cores, we are very, very different people.

I’m never going to be in his world. No matter the money, influence, and power I have now. No matter how well I dress, or how smart I am. I’m never going to be the country-club type getting wet over racquetball serves.

I’m too broken for that. Too damaged. Too much scar tissue.

“Hey, you wanna hear this crazy story about the new flooring they just put down at the racquet club?”

Abso-fucking-lutly not.

“Sure!” I smile, painfully. “But first, I’m just going to go use the ladies’ room, if you’ll excuse me.”

Pierre bounds out of his seat to help me out of mine. I smile and thank him, and then scurry to the bathroom. Inside the single occupancy room, I groan and sink against the door. I glance at my watch. This date has been going on now for eighteen minutes. I start to wonder if it’s somehow possible to end it before we even order food, without coming across as rude.

I check my phone, kill another three minutes, and then decide it’s time to just do this and get it all over with. Hey, at least the food is supposed to be incredible here. I can tune out the racquetball lesson for that.

I step out and head back to the table. But as I get closer, I frown when I realize Pierre is standing, buttoning his jacket, and dropping some money on the table. When he sees me approaching, he stiffens.

“Um, hi, is everything okay?”

“Very, yes. It’s…” he smiles nervously, his face pale and lined. “I’m sorry if I bothered you this evening, Nina.”

I frown. “You didn’t… I mean…” I sigh. “Look, Pierre, you’re a really nice guy, I just—”

“So, this is for dinner,” he drops more money on the table. “Please, stay, enjoy.”

My brow furrows. “Hey, is everything okay?”

I step towards him, but he actually recoils, jumping back from me. He whips his head around, looking around the room with a terrified look on his face.

“Pierre, what is going on?”

“Nothing,” he blurts. “Nothing at all. I just… we should end things, Nina. And I don’t think we should try this again. Nothing personal.”

“I…” I frown again. “Um, okay? Pierre, are you sure—”

He recoils again as I step towards him. His eyes dart past me, scanning the room. But then he swallows and looks back to me.

“Look, Nina, when you see him next, can you just let him know that I understand perfectly, and he’s got nothing to worry about with me.”

“What?”

“Please just tell him that. Tell him I said, ‘I understand completely and I will not ever be an issue.’ Can you please do that? Please?”

I stare at him, perplexed. “What the hell are you talking? Next time I see who?”

He blinks. “Your friend. The big, big guy, with all the tattoos.”

I tremble. Suddenly, I have zero doubts who he’s talking about.

“Goodbye, Nina.”

Pierre nods, white-faced, and quickly bolts from the restaurant. I whip my head around, scanning the room. He’s here. Or he was here. I replay the terrified look on Pierre’s face, and his words about “the big, big guy with all the tattoos.”

It’s my hunter. My beast. I know it.

I swallow and scan the room again. My heart is racing with a fucked up excitement that I might actually see him again. That he’s looking at me, and if I look hard enough, I’ll spot him back. But it’s not a big restaurant. And it’s pretty clear that he’s not here.

Part of me wonders if I’m crazy, and just jumping to conclusions. But what the hell else could explain Pierre’s sudden departure?

A waiter comes by to see if I’ll still be dining with them. But I shake my head. I collect my stuff, and I leave. Outside, it’s raining. But the valet brings my car around, and I get behind the wheel. But my heart is still thudding in my chest. My mind is still trying to put the pieces of this together.

I’m being stalked. I mean, that’s literally the word for it. He’s watching me. He’s been in my house—in my bathroom while I showered. He’s seen me, and I’ve knowingly put on a show for him, knowing he was out there. I want to question my own sanity at that. I mean there’s reckless, and then there’s playing with live dynamite.

And now he’s gone and escalated things. Now, he’s showing up to dinner and scaring my dates away. I blush, shivering in my seat as I drive through the city.

He’s my stalker. But also my escape. He’s my shadowy nightmare, and he’s also my forbidden fantasy. But the fantasy is getting real. Maybe too real…

I’m driving in a haze, lost in thought. I slow for a red light, when suddenly, high-beam headlights blind me from the side, from an alleyway. I wince as I turn to shield my eyes. But the headlights suddenly get bigger, and closer. I hear the roar of a diesel engine, my heart skips, and I scream and throw my hands up.

The hit comes hard. My whole world goes upside down in a shower of shattered glass. The sound of wrenching metal and screeching tires is all I know as my car slams sideways. The airbag slams into my face, and the car tilts onto two wheels. Then, it goes all the way over onto the roof as I scream.

I blink, feeling something hot and wet trickling down my face. But through that and the daze of the crash, I can hear truck doors opening. I hear barked command in Russian, and my jaw tenses. I reach over, fumbling with the glove compartment before it opens. I yank the gun out and take the safety off, and whirl as boots rush to the side of the car.

“Ubey yeye!” A man snarls in Russian. Kill her.

Not today, motherfucker. I’m upside down and pinned by