Page 7

I can’t believe Arkady could be so reckless. Again. He never seems to be able to keep his shit together long enough to stay out of trouble.

I got the call early this morning from him. My brother begging for help and telling me he can’t get hold of Malkov or Amber. He fucking knows I’m undercover and it’s a massive risk for me to even be talking to him, yet he still got himself into shit and didn’t give two thoughts for how it affected everyone else.

He messed with some low level Bratva assholes, a small group who he did a bad deal with and now they are after him. In the bigger picture, they are nothing. Malkov could wipe them off the map with one swipe of his hand. Why the hell Arkady was even dealing with them is a mystery to me, but now I’m stuck fixing this.

The last thing I wanted to do was leave Radmir’s place.

It looks bad if he finds out and I’ll have to come up with a good cover story. But I got the cash from my apartment and gave it to Arkady, and he can sort his shit out and stop messing up other people’s plans.

I’m angry when I step out of my apartment building. Angry and relieved that it was something quick and relatively easy to sort out with my idiot brother. But now I need to hurry and get back to the mansion before Radmir knows I ever left.

I scrunch my face in annoyance as I hurry towards his Lexus that I had to secretly borrow. My heart is pounding in my chest. I am sick with nervous tension. All I want to do is teleport back into the house and just be there already. Dammit, Arkady. You really are an idiot.

I walk quickly, not paying much attention to my surroundings because I’m anxious to get back.

That’s when I feel someone grab me from behind.

I spin to face the person and my heart sinks. It’s the Bratva group Arkady messed with. Four men have surrounded me, and they are all grabbing at me, pulling and tugging and dragging me towards a side street where I know they will throw me into a van, or simply kill me on the sidewalk.

I scream at the top of my lungs. Kicking one of them in the face with my red high-top sneaker. He lets out an angry ‘umph.’ And then tries to throw a punch at me, but I manage to duck, and he ends up punching his friend.

“Fucking dickhead,” his friend snarls.

“Well get her the fuck under control,” the other man snaps.

Someone grabs a handful of my hair and another punches me in the stomach. The air is knocked clean out of me and I can’t seem to take a new breath in. I can’t breathe. Panic surges when I realize they are going to take me. There are too many of them to fight.

Arkady, what did you do?

I try to scream again, but all that comes out is the weak mewling sound of a kitten. I still can’t breathe.

They are almost at the van parked just around the corner, as I suspected. My heart is sinking lower and lower.

Out of nowhere, Radmir flies into view, sweeping one of the men off his feet with a solid punch to his jaw. The man slumps to the ground, motionless. Two of the others let go of me and start attacking Radmir.

“Rad—“ I scream, my voice a little stronger now.

What the fuck is he doing here? How did he know I was here?

But I have never been happier to see someone I consider an enemy in my entire life.

Radmir fights hard against the other two men while the first lies unconscious on the floor and the fourth grips me tightly by the throat.

“A knife!” I scream as a silver glint catches the light.

I’m too late.

The knife plunges into Radmir’s side and he lets out a gargled yelp of pain. But he doesn’t stop fighting. He reaches for his own knife, tucked against his leg and in one swift movement he shoves the blade through one of the men’s throats. Side to side—a clean strike. He yanks the knife out and the man drops to the floor, spitting up blood and clawing at his throat.

The other man goes flying at Radmir, swearing and spitting and hissing threats. But he goes down just as fast. Radmir swings the blade and it pierces downward, into the nape of the guy's neck. He stands completely stunned for a second, his eyes wide as though he can’t believe what just happened.

Then he drops to his knees and Radmir yanks the knife out of him.

“Fuck this,” I hear the man behind me mutter. He releases me and starts to run for his life. I don’t blame him. Radmir looks like the devil himself. His eyes are pitch black. His lips curved in a wild snarl. He runs towards me.

“Jade,” he says, his deep voice is rough at the edges.

“You got stabbed!” I shout in panic. Genuine panic, because for the first time, I am paying proper attention to the blood gushing from his side.

“It’s—it’s—“ he swoons.

I quickly wrap my arm around his waist and pull him towards the Lexus. His eyes roll back in his head for a moment, but he stays upright. Thank fuck because if he falls to the ground there is no chance I’ll manage to pick him up.

“Stay with me, Rad,” I beg him, as he leans most of his weight onto me and I stagger towards the car.

One blink. It unlocks. I fumble with the door, tugging it open and pushing him so that he falls unceremoniously onto the passenger seat. I wince when he lands harder than I had hoped. “Sorry,” I mumbled, helping him lift his legs into the car.

Running around, I climb into the driver’s side. I have to get him to a safe house where I can get his wound attended to. But if I take him to one of my safehouses, he’ll know I was lying this whole time.

Not taking him to a safe house is risking his life and—

I just can’t do it. I can’t watch him die.

My heart clenches tightly.

“Rad?” I say loudly. Panic growing.

“Jade,” he mumbles.

Oh thank fuck, he’s still conscious.

“Rad, I don’t know what to do. Where can I take you?”

He leans forward with effort and punches at the LCD on his dashboard. An address pops up.

“The code—“ he sighs. “Is seven eight eight three.” He leans back in the chair and closes his eyes.

I slam the car into gear and hurry towards the address he put on the screen.

It’s only eight minutes from my apartment.

When I arrive, I drive into an underground parking area and reach a locked gate that requires a pin to enter.

Leaving out of the car I quickly punch in four numbers.

Seven. Eight. Eight. Three.

My heart leaps with relief when the gate slides open.

The tires skid as I accelerate into the underground, secure area, parking in one of the available bays.

I hurry around to his side of the car, tugging the door open.

“Rad—“ I say, scared he won’t reply.

“Mm,” he sighs.

“We’re here. Come on.” I reach into the car and do the best I can to lift him out. He grabs onto the doorframe and hauls himself to his feet and then leans on me as we shuffle towards the door.

“Five. Seven. Three. Zero,” he says with effort.

I punch the code into the keypad next to the door and it clicks open.

Inside the safehouse it looks like a completely normal home. Clean, modern, minimalist and bright. I know the windows will be one way view and completely bullet proof. I know every exit will be heavily secured. But it looks completely normal.

Rad groans and I drag him to the wide sofa and set him down on it.

“Is there a first aid kit here? I need to look at your side.”

He pushes himself forward and tries to stand up.

I stop him by putting my hand against his solid chest. “No, idiot.” I giggle. “I’ll get it. Just tell me where it is.”

“Bathroom,” he mumbles and slumps back down.

“Don’t fall asleep, ok,” I say nervously as I walk away. Not wanting to leave him. I’m fully focused on the emergency of the situation, but in the back of my mind I can feel the intense confusion drifting.

Why did he risk his life to save mine?

Where is the monster that killed my brother?

The only man I’ve seen in him is kind, gentle, generous and willing to go out of his way to protect me.

I push all of those thoughts into the back of my mind and scratch through the bathroom cupboard until I find a large black duffel bag on the bottom shelf. The giant red cross on the top lets me know I’ve found what I’m looking for.

It’s heavy. Obviously well stocked.

I know basic first aid because of the world I come from. Growing up as a Bratva child you learn things other children don’t have to worry about. Basic self-defense, first aid, how to manipulate—

I huff loudly as I drop the first aid kit onto the sofa next to Radmir.

His eyes are closed and he’s breathing deeply.

I can’t let him sleep yet. I need to make sure he’s ok first.

“Hey.” I slap him lightly on the cheek. “Hey,” I say again, slapping a little harder.

“Calm down, starfish.” He grins weakly, his eyes fluttering open.

“Oh, thank goodness,” I sigh in relief. “Can you lean forward, I need to get your shirt off.”

“You need to take me to dinner first, sweetheart,” he teases, but I can hear he is in pain. His face is bruised from the fight. For all I know, he might be concussed. But the most important thing I need to tend to is the stab wound in his side before he loses anymore blood.

He leans forward and I use my body to support him while I pull his shift off him. I bite my lip as my eyes trace over his naked muscles.

Holy fuck.

It turns out that Adonis has nothing on him.

“You’re staring.” He smirks.

“Mind your own business,” I tease him, happy that he’s at least a little chatty.

I need to keep him talking to keep him awake.

I tear my eyes off his perfect form and onto the gash along his left side, just below his ribs.

“What were you doing there, Rad?” I ask the question that has been burning the inside of my brain to pieces since I saw him.

“You left. I figured you must have gone home,” he says, his words broken by winces of pain as I shift him to the side so I can see the wound better.

“But how did you know where home was for me?” I try my best to keep the question sounding casual. I have to know if he’s found out who I really am.

Tracing my fingers over the knife wound I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s lost a lot of blood, but it isn’t something that would require hospital treatment. It’s a long, deep gash, but I can handle this.

While he answers me, I scratch around in the first aid kit to find something to stop the bleeding. Ah. Yes. This is going to sting like a mother fucker, but it will do the job. I pull a bottle of white power out.

“It’s on your employment record, Jade Blake. The internship keeps information like that on—on your—oh fuck, that’s going to hurt—“ he mutters seeing what’s in my hand.

“You got my address from my internship job?” How the fuck did Andrei decide that my home address was a harmless truth as he called it?

Radmir nods, then grits his teeth as I tilt the bottle and white powder spills out onto the open wound. Immediately it begins to fizz and bubble, the white fizz quickly turning pink as it mixes with blood.

“Fuuuck,” Radmir murmurs through clenched teeth.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “I am going to wipe it clean and then bandage it ok.”

“How do you know how to do this?” he whispers, in too much pain to speak any louder.

“Um, I took a first aid course in college,” I answer quickly.

“Lucky me,” he sighs, his fingers digging into the arm of the sofa.

I pull a packet of sterile wipes open and tug the cloth free. Gently, I wipe around and away from the wound, cleaning away excess blood and hopefully preventing any infection.

“You need one or two stitches,” I mutter, wondering if the bandages are going to be strong enough to hold the wound closed. Maybe he needs a doctor after all.

Radmir leans over me with difficulty and drags the bag towards himself. He scratches around inside until he pulls out a surgical stapler, which he hands to me.

I stare at it in disbelief.

“You’re kidding?”

“I’m not.”

“You want me to staple you?” I ask in horror.

“It’s not the first time I’ve been stapled, starfish.” He grins, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the sofa.

“Rad—this is going to hurt .”

“Yeah, I know. Just do it quickly. Don’t hesitate. It’ll hurt more if you hesitate.”

I sigh and bite hard on my lip. Fuck. Ok. I can do this.

Pressing the sides of the open wound together, I grit my teeth, push the stapler against his skin and squeeze the little trigger mechanism.

It clicks loudly. A staple fires out and locks tightly into his skin.

Radmir growls. He doesn’t flinch, though.

I glance up at him, his jaw is clenched so tight that the muscles over it are flexed and rigid.

“Hurry up,” he murmurs, without opening his eyes.

I press the stapler against his skin again and click.

“One more. Just to be safe,” I warn him.

Click.

He lets out a heavy breath.

Then takes another.

“Are you ok?” I ask nervously.

“Mm,” is all he replies.

I work as quickly as I can, sticking the bandages over his now sealed and no longer bleeding side.

Rad is breathing softly when I’m finished.

“Rad,” I whisper.

“Mm,” he sighs again.

“I need to check your head. I’m worried you might have a concussion.”

I reach out to touch his face, my fingertips tracing over his rugged features and a rough layer of stubble. Those dark grey eyes open and stare straight at me. My heart flips in my chest and my lips part.

“My head is fine, starfish. I just lost a lot of blood. I need to sleep.”

He reaches up and takes my hand, gently wrapping his fingers through mine he pulls my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. His mouth is warm against my skin. “You did an incredible job,” he murmurs. “Everything you do is so—perfect.” He sighs and closes his eyes. His fingers loosen from my hand as he starts to drift into dreamland.

I gently maneuver his body, pushing him down so that he can lie on the couch and rest properly, turned onto his other side so that he doesn’t damage the staples.

Then I sit on the couch in the curve of his chest and stroke my fingers over his face.

He is beautiful.

His face is beautiful, and his body is beautiful, but also as a person he seems so—

I push my lips together, fighting confusion again.

How can he come across so gentle and caring and protective when he is the man who killed my brother?

How can the man who took my brother’s life also be the man who saved my life?

Exhaustion soaks into my bones, but I don’t want to leave his side. I need to watch over him and make sure he is ok.

Carefully, I lie down on the sofa next to him, facing him, trying not to touch him, but it’s difficult in this small space.

I stare up at his resting face, listening to his breathing, soft and even.

“Who are you really?” I whisper so quietly I can’t hear my own words. Then I close my eyes, too heavy to keep open, and fall asleep.