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Chapter Twenty-Nine

DEMYAN

I fucking hate hospitals. Even this private one we use.

And my heart is wild, fear eating at me as I pace in the small private waiting room.

Ilya looks at me but doesn’t try to stop me as something in me snaps and I try to storm the ER for the third time.

The nurse looks at me with the same expression she’s had the past two times. “You need to wait.”

“Do you know who I am? How much money I spend?”

“Sir, I don’t care if you’re the world’s richest man and own this place; you need to wait like everyone else. She’s being examined. Now sit or I’ll have you escorted out of here.”

Ilya comes up and claps a hand on my shoulder, steering me away. “Got that out of your system?” he asks in Russian.

I glare at him, ripping free to throw myself in one of the plush chairs. “No. I want everyone fired.”

“Not happening, Boss. We use this place for the care they provide, along with the lack of questions and police involvement. Don’t piss them off.” Then he softens. “Erin’s in good hands. What happened? ”

I tell him the truncated version.

He closes his eyes. “Fuck. So she’s not happy about Stefina.”

“She doesn’t understand.”

He opens his eyes and sits up. “I think she understands just fine, Demyan.”

One of the doctors hurries past, and I jump up to grab him. “Is she all right?”

“Mr. Yegorov, when we have word on Ms. Banks, we’ll let you know. Now you must let us do our job.”

“Is this mission of yours to piss off everyone here new, or is it a plan you’ve been working on?” Ilya asks as the doctor leaves.

“I have my gun. I’ll shoot you.”

“And piss your woman off even more. Brave. Stupid, but brave.” He gestures at the seat near him. “Sit. They’ll let us know.”

I do as he says, but I can’t shake that horrible knowledge this is my fault. I caused this. Christ, I’m a monster. I’m exactly what my father said I was.

Hours seem to tick by and I’m ready to rampage when another nurse comes out. “Mr. Yegorov. Your fiancée’s okay. She’s dehydrated and we’re running more tests, but she’s awake and is asking to see you.”

My heart races hard and fast. That’s good, right? A good sign? I follow the nurse to the private room they have Erin in, Ilya trailing behind me.

I step inside and my heart sinks.

Erin lies in the bed, a drip attached and her expression one carved from stone.

She’s still angry.

And she’s got every right to be.

I cross to her and take a chair, dragging it to her side and sitting. I reach for her hand, but she snatches it away .

Erin won’t look at me.

“ Lyubimaya —”

“Don’t,” she snaps. “Call me Erin. I’m not your anything.”

She’s definitely not about to make this easy for me.

“Erin, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the deal I made with Sergio.”

“Getting married to his sister or daughter, you mean?”

Fuck. “Daughter.” Her face turns an angry red and I know I should have glossed right over that little fact. “It was something I wasn’t planning on following through with.”

She snorts.

“It was a necessary evil in order for me to bring Max’s killers to justice, that’s all.”

I search for a way to explain it better, but everything I think of just makes me sound even worse.

“I appreciate you wanting to do that for Alina.”

“And for you,” I add.

Her lips press together, hard. “But… marrying someone else? How the hell did you think I wouldn’t find out, or did you think I’d be fine being your sidepiece?”

“I didn’t think?—”

“No, you didn’t.” She grimaces, then says, “You didn’t think. I mean, did you stop to wonder what I might think or how it might affect me?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Go get your new bride. I’m tired.”

“Fuck Stefina,” I growl. “It’s you I want.”

This time, she looks at me. “Thing is, Demyan, I’m not sure what I want anymore.”

Her words cut into me and I can feel the ice pouring in, jagged-edged.

“Erin—”

“The doctors want to keep me overnight, so you should leave. ”

I narrow my eyes. Her words cut harder. “No,” I say.

“Go, Demyan.”

“Too bad,” I say stubbornly, “because I’m staying.”

She turns and glares at me. “Go home, Demyan. Take care of our son. I want space and the least you can do is give it to me.”

Fuck. I want to fight, argue, stay. But she’s right. I have to give her what she wants. And Sasha woke when we left, crying, so I do need to get back for her, for him. What I want is to take her too.

What I want is to send Ilya home to bring Sasha here.

I’m lost and I don’t know what to do.

“Go, Demyan. Please.”

“Fine.” I push out the word. “But Ilya is staying.”

I call him in. He rounds the corner and steps into the room, offering a smile to Erin, and I clench my fist.

“Stay with her, do not leave. Where she goes, you go. And if anything happens to her, it’s on you.”

“Of course.”

And left with no other option, I leave.

I’m tired, frustrated, and angry. Sleep’s not going to come easily, if at all, because I’m fucking worried about Erin.

She pisses me off, too, because she’s not listening to me. Not listening to reason. Okay, maybe I deserve her ire, but she knows how I feel. And when the fuck have I had time to be with anyone else?

Erin might not have accused me of that, but she might well have.

Shit. I need… I need soothing. And there’s only one thing for it .

I take the stairs and ease open Sasha’s room, wanting to see him, to breathe in that innocent air and smell he has.

I come to an abrupt stop.

“What the…”

His bed’s empty. His mangy goat’s on the floor. I storm out. “Alina!”

She was with him last. When he woke as we left in a flurry to get to the hospital.

My sister comes running. “Demyan, what is it? Is Erin okay?”

“Where the fuck is my son?”

She starts to shake, turning white. “He’s in his room…”

Alina pushes past me and into his room and she lets out a high-pitched sound. Then she turns, tears on her face.

“Demyan, he was here. When you left, I got him quieted down. We had some warm milk and cookies, and then I took him back to his bed, tucked him in, and read to him. I stayed until he was asleep.”

“When?” Fury and fear battle inside me.

“An hour ago?”

“Someone was in here.”

“The men were moving about, but… but…” She bites her lip. “No one was on high alert.”

I turn and race down the stairs. Kidnapped. My boy’s been kidnapped.

When we got in, the gates were open and I didn’t pay attention. Fuck me, I thought it was a change in guard. But that happened at midnight, so probably before Erin collapsed.

Did someone sneak in? But fuck, I’ve got an army here. So…

I stop and look back up the stairs to where my sister grips the railing. “Why the fuck was the gate open? ”

“There was a delivery. There usually is, Vitor said when I asked. Supplies for the house…”

I turn and continue down.

My stomach turns and I want to throw up. I grab my knife.

Then I call the gate. “Lock up.”

“We were waiting on word. Sometimes there’s another ship?—”

“Lock the fuck up. Did anyone come or go you didn’t recognize?”

“No.” The man’s voice shakes. “The delivery driver was new, but his credentials checked out.”

I hang up.

Close my eyes.

“New fucking driver.” Then I open them and look about.

I grab a guard by the throat and slam him against the wall. “How many came in the delivery truck?”

“Sir, I just finished unloading supplies. I came on at shift change and was out patrolling. When I got back, the supplies were piled in the kitchen…” He stops.

“Is that normal?”

“I don’t usually have to put them away. Is something wrong? Vitor just said to help out.”

Vitor. Fuck.

I storm outside and there he is, my so-called head of security, smoking and laughing with another guard. His guns and radio are in a pile by the door and he’s leaning on an SUV. I look at them, then him.

I’ve got no fucking idea if this was due to his being a double-crossing prick or negligence, but neither stands. Fact is new driver means he’s to watch over anyone coming into the house. And make sure all are accounted for. And to top it off, he didn’t send the order to lock the gate .

He half turns to me and I grab him and slice his throat, blood spurting onto the guard he was talking to.

Vitor gurgles and I drop him, letting him bleed out.

“Clean this up,” I tell the other man.

Other guards appear, and no one speaks.

“Do your fucking job. I want to know who came in, a description of the fucking driver of the truck, and who was with him. Or you’ll all be fucking next!”