Priceless: A Dark Bratva Romance (Ruthless Doms)

Chapter 5

Nicolai

It”s still early in the morning, and the sun is just barely rising when we hit the road.

I feel that someone is watching us, but every time I glance in the rearview mirror, we”re practically alone, except for the tractor trailers making their deliveries. Still, my skin prickles with vivid awareness any time a smaller car comes on the highway, and the chance of one of the truck drivers being in pursuit of us are slim and none.

My GPS says we”ll be in Raleigh soon. We”ll get something to eat there, before we head straight for Virginia. I plot out our trip in my mind, driving from Virginia to Boston, with stops if necessary in D.C., New York, or New Haven, Connecticut. I”d prefer not to stop if we can help it, but we”re going to have to eat and take breaks.

Is she asleep? Marissa is curled up in a ball, her head resting on her arm on the door, but her face is turned away from me so I can”t see her.

”You okay?” I finally ask, after silent minutes tick by into silent hours.

”Fine,” she says right away. Not asleep, then.

”Hungry?”

”Yeah.”

I frown, and glance up at the road signs as we drive on.

”I”ll stop soon to get us something to eat.”

”Great.”

”Radio?”

She only shrugs.

I don”t ask her anything else. Either she”s resigned herself to the fact that I”ve taken her against her will, or she”s fuming and plotting to escape. Either way, I don”t like her silence one bit. Earlier, she was still positive, still had a little sense of humor. But now...

”What”s gotten under your skin?” I ask her.

”Besides the fact that you kidnapped me, spanked me, and I spent the night on the run sleeping in my dress from the night before? Oh, nothing. Why do you ask?”

I clench my jaw and hold the steering wheel tighter. I don”t like where this is going.

”Yes, besides that,” I push. There”s something else going on, and I”ll get to the bottom of it.

”Maybe I”m hangry,” she suggests.

”Hangry? You mean hungry?”

”No, I mean hangry. It”s a new word. Not familiar?”

I speak through gritted teeth. ”Clearly not.”

”Hangry is the state of irritability caused by hunger. Angry plus hungry equals hangry.”

”So feeding you will restore you, then?”

”Just like a horse or something,” she quips. ”Water and feed me and I”ll be good.”

”More like a toddler,” I reason. ”Food, milk, naps, repeat.”

She snorts. ”Gee, thanks.”

”Anytime.”

Still, I pull off at the next rest stop that offers donuts and coffee.

”Tell me what you want.” I don”t want to get out of this car, so drive thru it is.

”Two chocolate-covered donuts, and an iced coffee, please,” she says. ”And a chocolate milk if they have it.”

Chocolate milk? Khristos, she”s so damn young.

”Coloring book if they have it?”

She only narrows her eyes on me. Right. I need to feed her.

I get an egg sandwich and a coffee and her food.

”Yippee-yi-yay,” she mutters.

”A thank you would be appropriate,” I remind her. Her attitude”s getting old. She has good reason to be pissy, but it still grates.

”Thank you,” she says with mock politeness. ”You are ever so kind, sir.”

I hand her the bag of food.

”Eat,” I tell her.

”It”s like I”m a dog,” she says. ”Eat. Sleep. Use the bathroom. Next thing you”ll be telling me to heel.”

She”s so damn snarky and woefully innocent.

How I”d love to motherfucking take her to heel.

”Eat, don”t eat, do whatever the fuck you want, just don”t get sassy with me.”

She sighs. ”Fine. I have to go to the bathroom, though.” She looks a little apologetic. ”May I?”

I grunt and don”t reply at first. I do not want to linger here. I want to hit the fucking road, but we need to be situated first.

The donut shop has a tiny bathroom way at the back. A handful of older men are drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, and one young woman serving everyone. I shouldn”t leave her alone in here. Fuck, anyone could walk in and take advantage. But that isn”t my problem. The girl in the bathroom is.

I stand right outside the door and in a few minutes, she comes out.

”Can you grab some bottled water, too?” she asks.

I stifle a groan. Sure, might as well play the lottery, grab some cigarettes, and maybe watch the ballgame before we drive again. The line”s grown a bit, but I wait to buy water, and she wanders over to a rack with newspapers and magazines. I beckon her over, but she doesn”t see me.

”Marissa.” She doesn”t hear me, and the line moves so I step closer to the register. I don”t like that she”s out of arm”s reach now, and call her name again.

A young man ambles into the shop obviously plastered when I”m next in line. I watch him stumble over to her and say something to her. She fidgets nervously and darts her eyes to me, and I gesture for her to get the fuck over here, but the man says something to her and gets her attention again. Her jaw drops, and the cashier raises her voice to me.

”Excuse me. Sir? I said, ”Can I help you?””

I turn angrily toward her. I”m gonna spank Marissa”s little ass for not getting over here next to me.

”Two bottles of water, please,” I order, when I hear a little gasp behind me. I turn to see the man”s got his hand on her hair. The fucking bastard is touching her.

I push everyone out of my way and lunge at him, grab him by the shirt and yank him off her.

”Hey!” he screams. He wreaks of alcohol and body odor, stumbling when I let him go.

”Don”t fucking touch her,” I tell him. ”Get away from her!”

”Nicolai, stop!” Marissa pleads. Shit, she used my name out loud. God.

I ignore her when he gets to his feet and gets in my face. ”I just told her she had pretty hair,” he protests, his face red with anger. ”And you can”t tell me—”

I sure as fuck can tell him. The bastard reaches for her again, and without thinking, I hit him so hard I hear bone snap. Blood spurts down his nose and he howls in pain. I lift him by the shirt and punch him again, and again, until he”s writhing in pain and screaming for help. I don”t even register anyone else around us until I feel Marissa grabbing my arm, pulling me off of him. I blink, realizing I just beat the shit out of a man at a tiny coffee shop, and cops could be here any second.

Fuck.

I grab her by the arm and haul her out with me.

”Get in the fucking car,” I order, yanking the door to the car open and shoving her in.

That was a stupid fucking move, drawing attention to us like that. A few people have come out of the shop after us. I peel out into the street, leaving them all behind. Praying we didn”t just get the attention of the police.

When we”re on the highway hidden among streams of other cars, I exhale.

”You”re dripping blood everywhere,” she murmurs. I look down at my hands in surprise. I didn”t even fucking realize his blood painted my knuckles on my right hand.

She reaches for the hand closest to her and wipes a napkin with the donut shop logo over it, her own hand shaking when the napkin turns red.

”Son of a bitch,” I mutter. ”You should”ve been next to me.”

”How was I to know some drunk jerk would do that?”

”You weren”t,” I respond. ”But you should”ve fucking been next to me.”

I want to punish her for her stupidity.

”You didn”t have to nearly kill the guy.” But it seems there’s a note of pride in her voice.

I don”t respond. I”m not in the mood for her lecture. We both know it was stupid for me to lose my shit like that, but I can”t change that now.

We drive in silence for another hour. The food is gone, but she lied, it did nothing to help her mood at all. She”s still sullen and irritable, tapping her foot and sighing. I ignore her.

The sun”s now risen, letting loose the full heat of its rays. Richmond in May is gorgeous, the weather temperate, flowers blooming, the sky a vibrant, nearly-cloudless blue that looks as if it were painted. She lets out a sigh, and I cast a glance at her. Her eyes are wistful, her lip caught between her teeth. I want to know what”s going on in that mind of hers. What troubles her. I want to listen to her, to every fear and hope and dream she holds onto. She”s on the cusp of being an adult, and I—

Shit.

She isn”t on the cusp of adulthood. I reach for the invoice from this morning and glance at the date.

It”s her birthday.

I could smack myself for being such an idiot. I toss the invoice back on the dash, but don”t say anything to her. I will have to make it up to her somehow. I don”t let on that I know, but think about the ways I can tell her that I haven”t completely forgotten.

”Can I turn some music on?” she asks.

I nod, a little surprised when she settles on older rock music I grew up listening to.

”This isn”t what you listen to,” I say. ”Put on something you like.”

”It”s what you listen to, and I like it just fine,” she says, but her cheeks color and she looks away. ”My generation doesn”t listen to just one type of music.”

”Oh, really?”

”We”re known for having eclectic tastes.”

”Eclectic tastes my ass.” I snort, remembering the kind of music her boyfriend used to listen to when he took her out on dates. My fingers grip the steering wheel tighter at the very thought of him.

But I like the music she plays, and it preoccupies me for a little while.

”I always wanted to go to Raleigh,” she says wistfully, when we pass he Welcome to Raleigh road sign.

”Why? What”s in Raleigh?”

”Oh, the Sunflower Fields,” she says. ”The Warehouse District and all the little shops there. The Amphitheater and shopping on Fayetteville Street. It sounds amazing.”

”It sounds boring as fuck. Sunflowers and little shops? What do they do at the amphitheater?”

”Plays,” she says, rolling her eyes at me.

”I”m only interested in amphitheaters if they”re holding gladiator matches.”

”That”s barbaric!”

”I”d choose barbaric over boring.”

She huffs out a breath. ”You would.”

She has no idea.

And then a second thought hits me so hard, I nearly crash into a guard rail.

Today, she”s an adult.

Eighteen years old. Legal. Still fucking off-limits, but she isn”t a child anymore.

It”s stupid to think that one day advances someone into real adulthood. She has years and years to form her adulthood, to learn who she is and what she wants, to solidify her values and relationships.

If I have anything to do with it, she”ll do just that.

She”s fucking legal.

My throat tightens with the thought. With the temptation that now sits beside me.

It was hard enough not to touch her when I knew she was off limits.

Now that she isn”t...

”I”m assuming we”re not stopping again anytime soon?” she asks.

”We”ll stop eventually, but not for a while.”

She freezes suddenly, her hands tightening on her knees, and when she speaks her voice is strained.

”Nicolai?”

”Mmm?”

”That truck... the one with the frozen food delivery?”

”Yes?”

”The driver… I know him.”

I grip the wheel tighter. ”How?”

I glance in the rearview mirror, but the solar glare makes it impossible to see the driver.

”I can”t see from where I am. What does he look like?”

”I don”t know...” Her voice trails off. ”It”s weird, but I swear I”ve seen him over at Eric”s house. That isn”t possible, is it?”

Could Laina have gotten the facts wrong? She said she overheard Myron, but what if... what if it was Eric who was responsible for her planned abduction? What if he was working directly with Myron?

”It is possible,” I tell her. ”Not very probable, but still something we can”t ignore. Though why anyone would chase us in a semi that big...” I shake my head. Maybe it”s part of his cover. ”Alright, Marissa. Hold on tight. We”re getting off the highway.”

I flick on my turn signal seconds before I careen off the exit at a breakneck speed and son of a bitch the truck is coming after us. I can see him making a hard turn in my rearview mirror. I curse under my breath and accelerate under a bridge.

”Oh, God,” Marissa moans. ”Oh God oh God oh God!”

”Make sure your seatbelt is fastened.”

I drive sixty miles an hour onto an off ramp, then take a left so hard the tires squeal on the pavement. I turn down an underpass until the road lies in front of me, and look in the rearview mirror as the truck is stopped between two other semis. He”s an idiot, though, because he doesn”t slow down at all. Instead, he plows after us so hard and fast, he knocks into three smaller trucks on either side of him, glass shattering and metal rends into pieces, smoke billows in the sky. Horns beep and soon, sirens sound in the distance.

Fuck.

I duck through another tunnel and hit the gas, driving as fast as I can away from here before we get caught. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, and I don”t realize I”m driving nearly a hundred miles an hour until I notice Marissa bracing herself and whimpering.

”Nicolai,” she whispers.

The truck fades into the background. I still can”t see the driver. I”m breathing heavily, but she”s the one I”m concerned with. I reach my hand to her knee and squeeze gently. ”You”re alright,” I tell her. ”You”re safe.” I don”t tell her that I”m packing a handgun in the waistband of my pants, and the glove compartment is jammed with similar weapons.

”Take my phone,” I tell her. ”Look up that truck online. See if you see anything out of the ordinary.”

She obeys, opens up the phone, and types something into the search bar. A few minutes later, she gasps.

”Nicolai!”

”Yeah.”

”That truck was high-jacked this morning! Somewhere south of us!”

”Son of a bitch. So he was in on this. You said you saw him at Eric”s house?”

”I... I think so,” she says. ”But I can”t be sure.”

I pick up my phone and dial Raf. I fill him in, giving him a description Marissa gives me, then hang up the phone. We”ve lost whoever was tracking us for now, but I wonder who he”s in communication with. Does he know where we”re going? She doesn”t know I ditched her phone by flushing it down the toilet in the hotel room this morning. Has someone tracked us? How would they know where we are or where we”re going?

Raf knows nothing, and says according to Laina, everyone still believes that Marissa is at her friend”s house.

”We”ll take a more scenic route to our next stop,” I tell her. ”We are less likely to draw unwanted attention.”

She nods. Her eyes are closed, and I wonder what troubles her. I reach for her hand and take it in mine, ignoring the warning bells that clang in my mind at the knowledge of what I”m about to do next. Time passes until both of us are breathing normally again, though I swear my pulse beats faster holding her hand.

”Tonight, we”ll find a place to celebrate your birthday.” After I ditch this fucking car and get another one.

Her eyes fly open. ”What?” she whispers.

”Your birthday,” I repeat. ”You”re eighteen years old today, and legal. That means we need to celebrate.”

”Legal,” she repeats.

The word hangs in the air between us as we both lapse into silence.

”I did something I didn’t tell you,” she says.

”Oh?”

I give her a sidelong look. I spanked her once but I knew then it wouldn”t be enough to keep this feisty, headstrong, beautiful woman in line.

And part of me is glad about that.

”Marissa,” I say warningly. ”Spill.”

”I sent Eric a text and told him I was breaking up with him,” she says.

”When?”

”Right before you took my phone.”

”Why the fuck would I not like that?” I ask. ”I hate the douchebag.”

She snorts with laughter, and it takes me by surprise.

”What? I mean it.”

But she”s laughing so hard tears are streaming down her face now. She”s wiping them away but they”re coming faster and harder.

”It”s not that funny,” I mutter.

”It is, though.” She sobers a little, but her voice is still colored with laughter when she shakes her head sadly and sighs. ”I just didn”t know if that tipped him off or made him angry or set any of this into motion. He tried to push me to have sex with him after the party. He was drunk, and he was pressuring me—”

”What?”

She freezes at the deadly tone of my voice. My vision is suddenly blurred, and I clench the steering wheel tighter. I knew I should”ve beaten that boy”s ass when I had the chance. If I could get to him now, I would teach him a lesson he”d never forget. The motherfucking bastard.

Hell, I”ll still find him. He”ll pay for that.

I keep my voice steady and reassure her. She thinks she is somehow responsible for this. I shake my head and squeeze her hand. ”Baby,” I say softly, without meaning to, the word coming out of my mouth of its own accord. ”None of this is your fault. None of it.”

She pulls closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder, and fuckme if right then and there all is right in my world. All is fucking right.

My voice is choked with meaning when I tell her, ”Let”s make our way to our next stop, Marissa. Someone deserves a birthday cake.”