The Runaway: A Dark Mafia Romance (Bratva Dark Allegiance Book 2)

by Raven Scott

  “Wow… talk about peanut butter and jelly, right.” Mason’s nervous laugh shattered the thick atmosphere, and I sucked in a huge breath to ease my burning lungs. He popped open the limo’s back door with one hand and rubbed the back of his neck with the other. “I’m gonna need a lot of weed to relax from that shit.”

  “I wouldn’t relax just yet, Mason.” Ignoring the conversation, I climbed into the car after Sascha and Ophelia to heave a massive sigh. Sinking into the seat, I flung my arms over my face and slouched low. When Reece shut the four of us in and the car rolled forward, my mind stuck in place. Everyone expected something to happen when Carlyle and Aleksander met for the first time, but…

  That was beyond anything I could comprehend.

  “Well… that went well, I think.” Sascha stroked his beard thoughtfully, slinging his arm over Ophelia’s shoulders and crossing his knees. His English accented much worse than Aleksander’s, but he still spoke it well. I’m starting to regret not trying harder. “What do you think?”

  “I think it’s interesting that Carlyle brought up the Albanians. They downscaled when Carlyle’s father effectively destroyed the Italians. They could see his dealings with Aleksander as an opportunity to readjust their own terms with Carlyle.” Ophelia puffed out her lips, her brows furrowing slightly. “I’m sure I’ll get a clearer picture later on. No point in thinking about it right now.”

  “We’re in America— we can have fun, right?” I cringed at how sloppy my English was, rolling awkwardly off my tongue and leaving a gross feeling behind. Flames licked my cheeks, but no one cast judging eyes on me as I raked both my hands through the ends of my hair.

  “Yeah, we can. We’ll figure out what to do when we get to New York City.” Nodding as embarrassment clogged my throat, I clasped my hands in my lap. The back of the limo grew quiet; no one really wanted to talk to strangers forced together in a tiny space, which only made the air thick with awkwardness. Turning to stare out the window, I gulped down my feelings as my mind turned to Aleksander’s offer on the plane.

  I took my out without hesitation, and now, I had some time to figure out where to go next. My English needed working on, and I didn’t even know where to begin with a job. Where would I live? How would I live? What struggles would I encounter, and how would I overcome them?

  The person I was before I met Anatoly… would I be closer to her once all of this was behind me? I would never be that woman, of course. And that was saddening. One, seemingly innocuous mistake had irreversibly changed me for the worse.

  America is the land of opportunity. The economy is better than Russia. Life was more stable. If I didn’t work directly for Aleksander, I’d never get paid on time. The currency is 0.016 of a single US dollar. First thing was first, though. I had to practice my English. Glancing over at Reece, I clenched and released my jaw thoughtfully. He worked for Carlyle Santino— I couldn’t trust him with something as mundane as helping my English.

  “How long to the city?” The words were rough even to my ears, and Reece’s baby blue eyes met mine quizzically.

  “Uh- about half an hour. To be fair, once we get there, we’ll probably have to ditch the limo. Traffic is insane at this time of day. After 3pm, it’s pretty much at a standstill.” Cocking my head, I frowned while my mind tried frantically to keep up with Reece. Sitting back, he nodded slightly. “I guess it’s better to see the city that way rather than craning your head out of a car window.”

  3

  Joci

  “Joci.” I blinked, tearing my eyes off the golden glitter of the city that never slept. Ophelia put a hand on my shoulder, and prickles raced down my spine as she smiled at me. “Want to go in and eat?”

  “Oh- um…” Not only do I have to learn to speak better English… I have to learn to read it, too. The thought dragged down my cheeks, and I turned my gaze back at the letters hanging above the store. What did they spell? What was this delicious smell? “I’m too excited to be hungry.”

  “We are— that’s why we came this way. Reece suggested this place. Even if you don’t eat, you should come in with us.” Oh, right… I forgot that tidbit of information; I was so distracted by everything… everything— everything I saw and all the thoughts rampaging around in my head.

  “No- it’s okay. I’ll walk around, and you call me.” Speaking English got a little easier every time I opened my mouth, and Ophelia smiled despite the worried wrinkle between her brow. Truth be told, Carlyle Santino would be stupid not to have people following us aside from the ones we know about. Slowly, Ophelia nodded, and I inhaled through flared nostrils in a bid to calm my racing heart.

  “Okay. We’ll be here for a while, probably.” I held myself stiff as Ophelia’s hand fell from my shoulder. She, Sascha and Reece walked in, his hands moving animatedly as he described all the wonderful things about this restaurant. Glancing up at the sign again, my frown darkened before I started down the sidewalk.

  “Maybe… I shouldn’t have been so quick to be on my own…” My murmur was lost in the noise of the city. New York City was a fancier, better version of Moscow, but the noises were always the same in places like these. The only difference was that the sky was lighter— rose higher— seemed endless. In Moscow, the sky was fake. I was a prisoner whose cage was painted to mimic the real world.

  But here, in New York City, I had the chance at freedom, even though it would be an uphill battle. Flopping my head back, I paused my shuffling to stare, unblinking, at the sun glinting off the endless expanse of windows reaching up— up— up… The sky was no longer something I looked at, but looked through at all the beautiful, wonderful, mesmerizing strata that animated it. No longer was the sky flat, but thick and dense with crystals and angles and barely any dead, empty space.

  Somewhere, in one of those tiny, hollow crags, was where I belonged. Somehow, I would find a place that fit me and only me, and I would slowly but surely carve away more space when needed.

  I’m getting philosophical with my freedom. Lowering my head, I reached to rub my eyes as a sigh built deep in my chest. Could I really believe that Aleksander would keep his word? Nothing he’d said on the plane was untrue. I was a nuisance to him, and from a certain standpoint, I was lucky that he hadn’t killed me in that cell five years ago. He would never have a use for me. I would never make a difference to him.

  But every one of those people— those irritants— didn’t exist anymore in this or any world. Could I rely on Aleksander’s pathetically flimsy sense of guilt, if that was what this offer even stemmed from? Anatoly and I had dated, and not even seriously, for a few weeks, and Aleksander had said so himself… that Anatoly’s childish tantrums were a problem. Was that why he’d kept me around? To remind his little brother that not all things can be accomplished by throwing himself on the ground and screaming?

  If so, why now? Surely, this was Aleksander’s best chance to get rid of me. He very well could just leave me here, in America, and forget about me. Everything would be fine on his end.

  My head started to ache from all the questions barraging the backs of my eyes. Shaking my head roughly, I sucked in a sharp, loud breath and grit my teeth. Whatever Aleksander’s motives aren’t my problem anymore. I’m taking this opportunity, and he wouldn’t have offered if he wasn’t serious. This serves him no purpose— there’d be no contact, after all. He wouldn’t break his own rule and drag me back. His pride won’t let him.

  Stuffing my hands into my jacket pocket, I kicked my short heel against the sidewalk before starting off again. This city was so filled with people that the air wasn’t as cold as it should’ve been. Puckering my lips, I could only faintly see the puff of air when I blew. My jeans kept the nip at bay as I walked aimlessly, and I paused at a crosswalk to wait for the light to turn.

  Despite the evening drawing closer and closer to night, the city was so bright and alive. People swarmed the streets in beautiful clothes, and I paid no attention to where I was going as I watched them all. Words I didn’t know
swarmed around me, and tension zinged up and down my spine.

  There was one word I did recognize in English- Bar. Ducking into the first one I came by, I licked my lips heavily as the familiar smell of alcohol and fried food curled into my nostrils. Reaching to run both my hands through my hair, I weaved through the crowd towards the bar.

  The selection was impressive, glittering along the back wall in pretty bottles with pretty colors. Stuff I’d never seen before called to me, and I sat on a free barstool to take off my jacket. If one thing was international, it was a bar, and my gaze roamed down the rich mahogany to gesture politely.

  “Hey- I.D. please.” My lips parted in an ‘o’, and I pulled out my passport as the bartender propped his elbows on the bar in front of me. “Oh- uh- Hey, Carly! Come here real quick!”

  “I’m 27.” A female bartender bounced over as I spoke, and my cheeks flamed at how bad I sounded. Pointing at the birth date printed on my passport, I gnawed on my inner cheek as surprised, brown eyes met mine.

  “Oh-h that’s cool. We haven’t had a Russian in here for a while. You can serve her, Cade.” Just like that, she flounced away again, her blonde ponytail swished around behind her. Blinking at how easy that was, my brows drew as I turned to the man— Cade— while he nodded in acknowledgment.

  “What can I get you?” He spoke slower, and relief slumped my shoulders as I put my passport back in my inner jacket pocket and fastened the zipper. Gazing at the wall of alcohol, I decided to try something I hadn’t had before; tequila wasn’t easy to come by at most bars in Moscow. Pointing at a bottle that caught my eye, a small, apologetic smile stretched my lips.

  “Is this your first time in America?” Cade was easy, and I nodded quietly as he grabbed the bottle to effortlessly pour me a shot. “How are you liking it?”

  “Um- not long here.” Jesus, kill me now. “First day.” Embarrassment threatened to melt my cheeks, but Cade simply hummed softly with no change in his expression. “My English is bad. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” Pulling out his cell phone, he opened the device to hold to his face, and curiosity sloshed up my throat. He said something in English that I couldn’t follow before holding out the phone and tapping a button. “How long are you going to be in the city? You can download this app to help you if you want. It’s called Translator. Very original.”

  My brows nearly flew off my face at the electronic voice that spewed out of the phone’s speaker, a squeak of surprise escaping me. Instantly, I whipped out my phone, and Cade smiled warmly as I navigated the screen with tingly thumbs.

  “Yes— um, I am moved here. Not here, but… America.” Waving my hand in an all-encompassing gesture, I tapped the ‘Download’ button with a satisfied huff. “Thank you.”

  “Sure. Do you want any food? Have you ever had fried mozz?” The confusion on my face must’ve been enough of an answer, and Cade snatched a small menu to hold it out for me. “These are the prices. Do you have dollars on you?”

  “I’ll handle her tab, Cade.” A second, deep voice sounded from behind me, and I twisted as a handsome, blonde man in a suit sidled up to the bar. “Can I get another beer, too, please.”

  “Yeah- no problem.” Off the bartender went, leaving me to stare at this guy that’d so confidently butted in on my conversation. He turned his blue eyes to me, the very light stubble on his jaw and cheeks rippling as he smiled. Licking my lips as nerves ate through my gut, I held out my hand politely, and the hairs on my arm stood up when he took it with no hesitation.

  “I’m Jacob.” Jacob’s palm was warm, sliding roughly down my fingers from the callouses of his hard work. For a brief second, my brain fried under the brightness of his eyes. He was young— maybe not older than me— and I nodded as my gaze struggled to stay on his face.

  “M— Joci.” The bartender returned with his beer, and Jacob nodded in thanks. “You speak Russian?”

  “No, sorry. Your English is pretty good for someone whose never been here before, Joci.” Grabbing my shot to hide the flames that licked my cheeks and up my neck, I closed my eyes tightly to knock back my drink. The burn hit me hard, trailing down to my belly, and my toes curled slightly in my heels. My chest tightened, a hot sigh escaping my lips as heat settled behind my ears. “What brings you to America? Holiday?”

  “No. Am moved here.” I winced noticeably, and Jacob chuckled slightly before covering his mouth with the back of his hand. His eyes danced like beautiful, blue waves on the Gulf, his thin beard rippling with merriment. My phone buzzed on the bar, forcing me to look away as mortification heated up to my hairline. Ophelia’s name winked at me, and I debated answering for a long moment before swiping the green button.

  “Hey, Ophelia. I found a bar.” Still speaking in English, I frowned at how weird her name was rolling off my tongue. “How’s your food?”

  “It’s great! I was calling to check on you.” Awkwardness floated through the line, and I just lowered my phone and hung up after a second too long. Setting my phone back on the bar top, I stared at it through dazed eyes. Once Aleksander cut me off, I’d have to get my own cell phone… in English. Crap.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone, Joci?” The question broke my thoughts, and I glanced up as Jacob took a swig of his beer.

  “I just think… I had more focus in school.” Scrunching up my nose, I shook my head hastily. I didn’t think this through at all. “You’re okay here, Jacob.”

  4

  Joci

  “Woah…” Pulling both ends of the mozz stick, my mouth watered as the cheese just stretched— and stretched— and stretched. “Weird.”

  “You’ve seriously never had this kind of cheese before?” Pausing to glance at Jacob, I arched a brow quizzically at the humor lacing his tone. He held his cheek on his fist, a slight smile tilted his lips. Alarm glimmered in his eye, and I gasped. “Watch it!”

  “Oh!” Raising my arms as high as they would go, I barely stopped the gooey cheese from touching the bar. A sharp throb shot down either side of my spine, and I grimaced as the cheese coiled onto the small plate. “Fuck-“

  Slurring heavily, I dropped both sides of the bready part of the stick to grip my shoulders. Hoovering up a hard breath, my eyelids shuttered tight as I arched sharply. Instantly, a cold sweat broke out on my back, and fire engulfed my joints. Tentatively, a calloused palm pressed against my lower back, worried eyes boring holes into my face.

  “Do you need ice or something, Joci?” Forcing my eyes open, they found his easily as he leaned in close, concern thinning his lips. Ice? The last time I put ice on me, it made the pins quiver and the plates sear my bones from the cold. When I shook my head, Jacob frowned under furrowed brows, but he didn’t object.

  “My— my arm—” Shit, what’s the English word for shoulders? My lips moved in agonized silence, but Jacob seemed to get me, anyway. Closing my eyes tightly, I struggled to take a few calming breaths as I sat, rigid on the stool. “I’m— I sit too much.”

  “Let’s take a walk outside.” That was even worse, but I didn’t protest as Jacob held my biceps and helped me off my seat. “So, you can’t raise your arms very high?”

  “No.” Sitting for so long didn’t help me at all, either. There was only so much I could manage, and being active wasn’t even at the bottom of that list. Even here, Anatoly’s curse follows me. I ground my teeth through the pain as Jacob and I walked out of the bar and onto the street. The sun had set fully, now, and a surprised hiccup escaped me at how busy the sidewalks still were.

  “I get sitting too much.” Leaning against the brick holding the windows to the building, I gulped harshly as Jacob positioned himself next to me. “I work a desk job. It sucks— that’s why I’m careful to be more than usually active.”

  My head hurt— too much to try to decipher what he was saying. Pulling my phone out with trembling fingers, I sniffled harshly and took a deep breath through my nose. That app the bartender showed me popped up through blurred vision, and I held out the bott
om of the device to him to nod encouragingly. He spoke again, the computer-generated voice repeating what he said in Russian.

  “I don’t work— not really. I basically babysat a rich kid in Russia, but I had this opportunity to move to America. I had to take it. I can’t go back.” The words spewed out in English from my phone’s speaker, and Jacob’s brows rose in interest. With each second that passed, with the cold air and the hard bricks, the pain in my body dulled a tiny bit. Gingerly taking my phone, Jacob spoke, and I closed my eyes to listen to the deep timbre of his voice.

  “That sounds really cool, actually. Did you do a lot of fun, rich people stuff? Every job has its ups and downs. I’m a computer programmer, and I love it— I’ve got my dream job. The downside is that my boss is a bitch.” He paused when I didn’t open my eyes, focusing on breathing rather than holding a conversation in a language I didn’t know. “… That’s the thing that sucks about computer people— everyone thinks they’re so amazing. They try to be the smartest person in the room. I’m just a programmer, but I’m constantly telling my boss she’s wrong about simple stuff.”

  “It’s a complicated situation, but if by ‘rich people stuff’ you mean clubs and prostitutes and listening to him whine about his maid taking too long to put on his socks— yeah. I did a lot of that.” Craning my neck to speak into my phone, I blinked back the sting in my eyes. Jacob laughed, covering his mouth again with his hand to stifle the sound. His was a beautiful, deep sound, with no hitches or sharpness— smooth and thick. Reaching to cover his palm with mine, I lowered his hand as he paused, his eyes widening. “You have a wonderful laugh. Don’t hide.”