Bratva Lullaby (Zarkov Bratva #1) Read Online Penny Dee

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors: Series: Zarkov Bratva Series by Penny Dee
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Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
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“I’m sure they’re perfect, thank you. Out of curiosity, how did you know my size?”

“Mr. Zarkov,” she says with pure innocence. “He said he knew from experience.”

My cheeks flame. Asshole.

“We met on a flight to New York, and I must’ve mentioned it to him,” I say, downplaying our encounter.

But I’ve got a feeling Enya isn’t that easy to fool. Yet the sweet young woman just smiles and hands me the bag of clothes. “Let me know if you’d like me to send for anything else.”

My head spins. Does this lovely girl with the sweet face and kind words know that Mr. Zarkov is a monster who had a gun pointed at my ex-fiancé’s head a mere twenty-four hours ago and was about to shoot him if I hadn’t agreed to his preposterous demands?

“Enya, I need to get out of here. Can you help me?”

Her smile doesn’t waver. “You want to leave? But you just got here. Mr. Zarkov said you were staying for the week.”

“I know, but there’s been a change of plans. Can you help me?”

I’ve had time to think, and I absolutely need to get out of here. And the moment I get to safety, I’m calling the police. Surely there’s something they can do. Maybe I can go into witness protection or something.

But then Lev’s words come back to me, and a cold dread crawls down my spine.

“If you run, there is no place to hide. I’m a very connected pakhan, zayka. I have friends in very high places and friends in very low places, and both are equally as loyal to me and equally as frightening as each other.”

Do those connections extend into the NYPD?

Probably. But I at least have to try and untangle myself from this mess, and I’m hoping this sweet young girl might help me.

But that hope is dashed when a frown crosses her face. “I can’t do that, I’m afraid. I just saw Mr. Zarkov, and his instructions were very specific.”

I feel the hope drain from my body.

“And what were those instructions?” I ask.

“To bring you some fresh clothes." Her face breaks into another big smile. “And to tell you to join him in his study.”

21

LEV

I stare at the Facebook page on my laptop.

Social media. It’s amazing what people will mindlessly put on there. What they’re eating. Who they’re with. Where they work. Every banal thing we didn’t want to know about them right there in front of us.

But I can’t deny how useful it has become when we want to know more about people. Where they are. How we can find them. Who their loved ones are.

Brooke, on the other hand, isn’t one for sharing. Her posts are few and far between and offer very little information. Well, to the untrained eye, anyway.

Which is ironic for a marketing manager.

Her posts are mostly of her with her friends. Out to dinner. Sharing cocktails. There are only a couple of posts featuring Wilson, and in them, she doesn’t seem as happy as she does in the posts that include her friends. The sparkle in her eyes isn’t there. And her smile seems forced.

Can’t say I blame her.

I scroll through her Facebook feed until I find one particular post. It’s a post I’ve looked at a thousand times since I first saw it. In the photo, she’s looking over her shoulder as if someone has called her name, and in that second, she looks like the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in the world.

Just like she did on the day I first saw her.

I remember the moment because it’s seared into my soul.

I had just shot Aleks, and while we were traveling back to the hotel, Feliks informed me about Wilson skipping out of town, leaving his bride at the altar.

So I went to their apartment to see for myself and saw her climb out of the car in her wedding dress still carrying her bouquet. Before she disappeared inside, she turned and looked over her shoulder as if she knew I was there, and I caught sight of her face for the very first time. It was like a lightning bolt struck my rib cage and sent an electrical charge into my chest cavity. I sat back, rocked by her beautiful face. Those big bunny eyes. Those lips. And I knew then that there was no way Wilson would not be coming back. Because that wasn’t a face you left behind. He would be back. And when he was, I would be waiting.

But patience isn’t my strong suit. So when the men who were placed on watch outside of her apartment contacted me and let me know she had fled to the airport the following morning, I decided it was time to intervene.

I want to say I went there because I believed she knew where Wilson was, and I was going to get it out of her one way or another. I want to say that I bought that first-class ticket and used my power and name to get the seat next to her, even though it was already taken, because it was a means to an end.



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