Page 24 of Hostage of the Russian (Nikolai Bratva Brides #7)

She reached for a package of butterfly bandages, her movements growing more hesitant.

“Kostya?”

“Yeah?”

“When you go after dangerous people like this, do you ever think about... about what would happen if you didn’t come home?”

The question caught him off guard. He looked at her more closely, noting the tension in her shoulders, the way she avoided meeting his eyes.

“Are you worried about me, Azriel?”

She flushed, her cheeks turning a delicate pink.

“I just... I don’t want to be alone again.”

The simple honesty of her admission hit him harder than any bullet could have.

This beautiful, fierce woman who’d been abandoned and abused by the one person who should have protected her was afraid of losing someone else.

The fact that she’d come to see him as protection—maybe even care—sent warmth spreading through his chest.

“Hey,” he said softly, using his good hand to tilt her chin up until she met his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s going to take a lot more than some wannabe gangsters to put me down.”

“Promise me,” she whispered.

“I promise.”

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded and went back to bandaging his shoulder. They worked in comfortable silence, her hands gentle and sure as she secured the dressing.

“There,” she said finally, stepping back to admire her work. “Try not to move around too much for the next few days. And if it starts bleeding again or shows any signs of infection, you’re seeing a doctor whether you like it or not.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

She started to turn away, but he caught her wrist with his good hand, pulling her closer. She came willingly, settling between his knees with her hands resting lightly on his chest.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“For taking care of me. For worrying about me.” He brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face. “For making me want to come home.”

Her breath caught, and he saw her pupils dilate slightly.

“Kostya...”

He leaned forward, intending to kiss her—to show her without words how much her concern meant to him.

But just as their lips were about to meet, his phone rang.

They both froze, the moment hanging between them like a held breath.

“You should answer that,” she said softly, though she made no move to step away.

He glanced at the screen. Viktor.

“What?” he answered, probably sounding more irritated than the situation warranted.

“They’re at the airport,” Viktor said without preamble. “Private jet. Filed a flight plan for Miami.”

Kostya’s blood turned to ice.

“When?”

“Twenty minutes ago. They’re probably already in the air.”

He closed his eyes, feeling the familiar burn of frustrated rage. Danny was slipping away again, taking with him any chance of ending this nightmare for Azriel.

“We need to follow them,” he said.

“Already making arrangements. There’s a flight leaving in two hours.”

“Good. I’ll meet you at the airport.”

“Kostya,” Viktor’s voice held a warning note. “You’re injured. Maybe you should sit this one out.”

“Like hell.”

He ended the call and looked up to find Azriel watching him with worried eyes.

“You have to go, don’t you?” she said.

He wanted to lie. To tell her it could wait. But this was their chance to end the threat—to make sure the rivals couldn’t use Danny’s information against them again. If they let them get established in Miami, they’d be ten times harder to root out.

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have to go.”

She nodded, though he could see the disappointment in her eyes.

“How long?”

“I don’t know. A few days, maybe a week.”

“Will you be safe?”

He stood up, ignoring the sharp protest from his shoulder, and pulled her against him with his good arm. She melted into him, her face pressing against his chest.

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. “And I’ll come back to you.”

She tilted her head up to look at him.

“You better. I didn’t patch up that shoulder just so you could go get yourself shot again.”

Despite everything, he found himself smiling.

“I love it when you get fierce.”

“I love it when you don’t get shot,” she countered.

This time, when he leaned down to kiss her, nothing interrupted them.

Her lips were soft and warm under his, tasting faintly of sleep and something uniquely her.

He poured everything he couldn’t say into that kiss—his gratitude for her care, his promise to return, his growing need for her that went far beyond physical desire.

When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.

“I have to pack,” he said reluctantly.

“I know.”

But neither of them moved, content to stand there holding each other as dawn light filtered through the bathroom window.

Finally, reality intruded, and he forced himself to step back.

“I should go.”

She nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as if suddenly cold.

“Be careful, Kostya. Whatever this is about, whatever those people did, it’s not worth your life.”

If only she knew.

If only he could tell her that this was about her. About making sure Danny could never hurt her again. About eliminating the last threat to her safety and happiness.

But he couldn’t burden her with that knowledge. He couldn’t let her feel responsible for the violence that was about to unfold.

“I’ll call you when I can,” he promised.

“Okay.”

He kissed her once more—quick and hard—then forced himself to walk away. He could feel her watching him as he gathered clothes and weapons, preparing for a hunt that might finally put an end to Danny Hartford.

As he headed for the door, he glanced back to see her silhouetted in the bathroom doorway, his shirt hanging loose on her small frame, her dark hair catching the early morning light.

The sight of her made his chest tighten with an emotion he was still learning to name.

Three months ago, she’d been nothing more than payment for her father’s debts.

Now, she was the reason he needed to come home alive.

Danny Hartford had no idea what kind of hell he’d unleashed by hurting this woman.

But he was about to find out.

Kostya would make sure of it.