The Bratva’s Forced Bride (VARKOV BRATVA #8) by Rina Lawson EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
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- Authors: Rina Lawson
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Mark
“In a world of shadows, loyalty is a currency and betrayal is a deadly
sin.” – Anonymous.
“Again.”
The zeal and malice in Yuri’s eyes gleamed and his lips twisted into a
smirk as he swung his arm and aimed at the jaw of the beaten man tied to
the office chair.
The sound of knuckles hitting bone through skin echoed in a
sickening crunch and bounced off the taupe-colored walls. He screamed,
gurgled, and spat a long trail of thick red blood onto the carpet.
I sighed. Yuri glanced at me. He knew what my dismay meant: the
asshole had ruined the fucking carpet.
The red stain slowly seeped into the light brown low pile Berber, and
after a bored yawn, I twirled a finger in the air. Yuri caught the signal. I
didn’t need to say a word.
Again.
His fists flew from the side, connected with his cheekbones this time.
He uttered a painful, “Oof!” The man’s head lolled from side to side,
and his damp, blond hair fell onto his forehead. His lip was busted, and his
face was covered in blood. I’d pegged him to be a lot stronger than… that.
A spineless coward, worth no more than a few bucks. And definitely not
worth my time and energy.
“Don’t be a fucking pussy now,” Yuri scowled with disgust. The man
whimpered, and then his mouth moved.
I grabbed my gun from the table, pushed back the comfortable highback leather chair, stood up, and took aim. He was about to spit again.
“Swallow it.”
He blinked, his cheeks puffed out and tears mingled with the
bloodstains on his face. He shook his head.
I cocked the gun. “Swear to God, I’ll blow your brains out right now
if you don’t swallow that fucking thing. Can’t have you ruining my carpet,
do you hear me?”
Reluctantly, with his head bobbing up and down and fear in his eyes,
he gulped.
“Good! That wasn’t so hard, was it?” I smiled, rounded the desk,
leaned against it, and faced the man. My gun dangled casually in my hand
on my thigh. “I don’t know about you, but being filthy rich is no excuse for
spending thousands of dollars on fucking carpet replacement. Now that
that’s settled …”
Yuri backed away from him and handed me the computer tablet from
the table. With my free hand, I scrolled through the details—nothing but a
boring profile of my prisoner—and looked up. “Ruslan Volkov. Thirty-two,
single, works as head chef in the kitchen department—we have a kitchen
department?” I asked Yuri.
He scratched his neck. “He works in one of our restaurants.”
“Hm,” I frowned and continued to scroll through the information on
the screen. “And he had access to the details of the Swiss-New York deal
because … Ah, I see.” I dropped the tablet on the desk.
“You have a knack
for it too. Not only does our man have exceptional culinary skills, but he’s
also unofficially in the tech department. Turns out he’s a bloody spy.
Fucking explain this to me!”
He broke out in louder wails, panting like he was going to faint at any
minute. “Please,” he heaved, coughed, and sputtered.
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