Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)(10)

Pulling up, Lauren hadn’t noticed Rob’s shiny black BMW parked a few blocks down, but now that she had, she could see Piper in the passenger seat, oversized sunglasses shielding her eyes, but judging from the way her mouth was set, she appeared smug.

Amber reached the passenger side, yanking at the door handle as Piper lurched back, trying to get as far away as possible in the confined space. Foregoing her bags—and hoping to stop Amber from doing anything she might regret—Lauren hurried over.

Rob had the nerve to look relieved as he tried unsuccessfully to calm Amber down. “Lauren, please. Can you talk to her?”

“I don’t really know what’s going on,” Lauren said looking between the two of them.

Then suddenly, Amber took a deep breath, letting go of the door handle, holding her hands up. “I’ll explain. Robin decided that because I didn’t have a real ‘job,’”—she air-quoted the last bit—“he needed to take my cousin, the conniving bitch,”—this screamed at the car—“to the office party at his law firm. Then, because I was out of town visiting my sick father, he brought her back to my apartment and f*cked her in my bed!”

And there went the calm before the storm. Drawing her arm back, Amber slugged him in the nether regions, dropping him to his knees. Deciding it was a good time to intervene, Lauren grabbed Amber by the back of her shirt, pulling her away. Amber didn’t struggle much, though she did hurl insults as they stumbled backwards towards their building.

Rob eventually struggled to his feet, climbing into his car and driving off, not doing less than ninety miles per hour.

“I’m fine,” Amber said again and again as they climbed the stairs to their apartment.

But she wasn’t and Lauren knew that. Amber was a beautiful girl, with extremely curly blonde and brown hair that now fell just past her shoulders since the last time Lauren had seen her. She also had wide expressive brown eyes that were currently brimming with tears.

Amber went in the apartment first, easily stepping over all the little, white fluff that seemed to cover the majority of the floor. Actually, it was everywhere. On the counters, all over the couch, some floating through the open window where one of Amber’s paintings was sitting on an easel waiting to dry.

“What did you do?” Lauren asked looking around in wonder.

“I murdered a mattress.”

Sure enough, inside Amber’s bedroom, her once queen sized mattress was ripped to shreds, long gouges down the center of it, the springs sticking out.

“Oh,” Amber said snapping her fingers. “We should go mattress hunting sometime today now that you’re back. Speaking of, does he know?”

He meaning Mishca, Mishca Volkov. There were no words to describe how she felt about him adequately, it was too complicated.

“No, I haven’t talked to him yet.” Not that she planned to talk to him at all.

Amber blinked, hearing what Lauren wasn’t saying. Good friend that she was, she didn’t question it.

“Mattress first, then margaritas.”





Four hours later, Amber had a new bed set, and they were well on their way to being beyond drunk—at least Amber was. Lauren was still working on her second margarita while Amber was raising her hand for another Long Island iced tea.

“Piper, of all people?” Amber said as she pulled the pineapple from the other drink she had yet to finish, nibbling a piece of it. “I really shouldn’t be surprised though. She has a habit of going after other people’s boyfriends.”

“Don’t let them get you down. They’re not worth it.”

Amber nodded, but Lauren doubted she believed that. The pain was too fresh for her to just let it go so easily.

“Enough about me and my pathetic excuse for a cousin. What’s up with you and Mishca?”

“We…well, it just didn’t work out.”

Lauren didn’t want to tell her any more than that, not because she didn’t want to—it would be great to finally talk with someone about this—but she didn’t want to involve Amber in it, not when she was already worried about her own safety.

“Well if you ever want to talk about it, I’m a great listener.”

There was no one else she’d rather talk to.





It was considerably cooler when they left the bar, making Lauren zip up her jacket, fumbling with the zipper several times before finally tugging it up.

“Where do we go from here?” Amber asked in a whimsical voice, spinning in circles while nearly falling off the sidewalk.

Lauren giggled, hurrying to catch up to her. “What about Florida? I’ve never been to Florida.”

“Really? You should come with me to Cali for a few weeks.” She slung her arm around Lauren’s shoulders, gesturing out to everything around them. “That would be fun, right? I’d show you the coast, we’d surf, and meet all the hot surfers out there.”

“Sounds good.” But she wasn’t sure about meeting other guys. Maybe it was because her breakup with Mishca was so fresh that she wasn’t ready to move on.

Lauren fiddled through her purse, searching for her phone—feeling the buzzing against her side—falling behind. She was still looking when she stumbled into Amber as she stopped abruptly. Looking up, she didn’t have to ask to learn why Amber was no longer walking.