Page 54

YULIAN

Nikita.

Three months we’ve been looking for her.

Three.

Fucking.

Months.

And now, here she is, soaking my hardwood floors.

Not that I could give less of a shit about that. What’s ridiculous is that a whole army of my men couldn’t track her down, but somehow, Mia did.

Mia, who knew nothing about her.

Mia, whom I’d sworn I wouldn’t see again unless it was part of the plan.

Mia, who’s now working tirelessly to save her.

She has no idea who Nikita is, aside from the fact that she apparently held her at knifepoint and tried to carjack her. How Mia is even still alive after that, I have no clue. Nikita is a trained killer.

Granted, she’s not the type to cut up nurses in parking lots, but I doubt Mia could have overpowered her even without lethal intent on her part.

The fact that she apparently did?

It means Nikita’s on death’s doorstep.

At least, that’s the assumption I’m working on as I watch Mia dart around my cabinets, gathering up battlefield supplies to treat her. It must be far from what she’s accustomed to: dry beds, clean tools, a full pharmacy waiting on her. But she doesn’t utter a single word of complaint.

“Mia.”

She doesn’t answer me, still rummaging for God-knows-what in place she won’t find it.

“Mia,” I repeat, harder.

“What?” She doesn’t quite snap, but the urgency in her tone is clear. She needs to take care of her patient. Here, she is on her battlefield, fighting a war I know nothing about: the war against death. She has no bandwidth for distractions.

Good thing that I’m not planning to be one.

“Tell me what you need.”

Her eyes light up at the realization of what I’m offering. “A bedside monitor,” she answers quickly. “A pulse oximeter will do in the meantime. You probably have one already.”

“What else?”

“IV bags,” she says. “A pole, too, ideally. We need to give her fluids, nutrients, and intravenous acetaminophen for her fever.”

“Nutrients?”

“She’s severely malnourished.” Mia holds up her arm, showing me the skin hanging from her upper forearm.

That’s all I need to hear.

I call Maksim and order the supplies. He doesn’t question me, nor the urgency of my command.

“Twenty minutes,” I tell Mia. “Is that good? Will she hang on for twenty minutes?”

“Yes,” she exhales. “She’s not in immediate danger.”

“Good.” I turn back to Maks on the phone. “You’ve got your twenty minutes. No delays.”

As we wait for him, Mia busies herself taking care of Nikita. She towels off her short black hair, borrows one of my sets of pajamas, and changes her into it.

It’s odd, seeing my worlds collide like this. Seeing Mia taking care of one of my soldiers.

“Is there anywhere else we can put her?” she asks at one point. “Somewhere dry?”

“You can use my bedroom.”

She blushes, but doesn’t argue. We carry Nikita on my bed, much larger and more comfortable than the one she’d been shivering in.

Fury crowds my mind. Concern, too. I’m itching to do something, find the people responsible for this and make them pay. There are too many mysteries surrounding this.

I’ve never been good at sitting still, letting others do the work. If I’m not dirtying my hands, I’m not doing it right.

But tonight, I force myself to stand back and watch. Watch Mia’s hands expertly move over Nikita’s body, feeling her vitals, countering the fever with a damp cloth and ibuprofen. She’s working in battlefield conditions here, but she’s still?—

Incredible. She’s fucking incredible.

Maks arrives with five minutes to spare. He’s carrying the monitor on his shoulder, a machine that’s clearly been recently unhooked from somewhere, but I know better than to ask questions.

“Geez,” he huffs. “If I’d known she was in your bed all along, boss, I would’ve cut down on the overtime.”

“Shut up and bring that,” I order, not in the mood for games. “Help Mia with anything she needs. As long as we’re in this room, she’s your boss. Got that?”

“See what I’ve got to put up with?” His tone is light, but there’s a gravity to his expression as he finally sees Nikita’s ashen face that echoes mine. “ Blyat’. Someone sure did a number on her.”

“They’re dead,” I growl. “Soon as I fucking find them, they’re?—”

“Can you please hold off on your mafia talk until I’m out of the room?” Mia interrupts. “Here. Help me sit her up.”

She works several IVs into Nikita’s arms with speed and precision, then hangs the bags. When the monitor’s finally plugged in, I watch her exhale with relief.

“Vitals are rising,” she murmurs. “She’s still weak, but she’ll pull through.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. By my side, Maksim does the same.

“Notify the others,” I tell him. “And search the hospital’s parking lot. I’ll handle things here.”

“Sure.” He throws one last glance at Nikita. “When she wakes up, tell her I said hi. And that I called dibs on gutting the sons of bitches who did this to her.”

“You’ll have to fight her for the privilege,” I mutter. “And me.”

“Guys?” Mia pleads. “Seriously, plausible deniability? Ever heard of that?”

I wave Maksim out and sit down next to Mia. “So, she’s fine now?”

“I wouldn’t go that far, but at least she’s not burning up anymore.” I watch her bite her lower lip, worry all over her face, her gaze wandering over Nikita’s shivering frame. “What was her physical shape before this?”

“Not that skinny,” I tell her. “She’s been fit forever.”

“She’ll need help walking at first,” Mia says, hands deftly moving from Nikita’s biceps to her calves, assessing the damage. “There’s still something, but chances are, she’s eaten away at it. There are all textbook signs of starvation and immobility. We see this in coma patients, but?—”

“Coma patients?”

“Not exclusively,” she amends. “But yes. Patients who spend a lot of time bedridden, being fed through an IV. Look.” She shows me the inside of Nikita’s left arm. “See the holes? Either she’s been using like crazy?—”

“She would never do drugs,” I say. “Not Nikita.”

“—or she’s been kept somewhere for weeks.”

Kept. The thought fills me with rage. I take a deep breath to dominate myself, fists clenched into the sheets.

It doesn’t take long for Mia to notice. Her brow creases, pain and guilt waging a war in her eyes.

“Yulian… Are you and Nikita…?”

It takes me a few heartbeats to realize what she’s really asking. In the end, her cheeks give it away, flushing hot pink with embarrassment and a touch of anger.

I fight down a smile. “Is that jealousy I hear, Nurse Winters? ”

She tears her gaze away, chin held up with pride. “I’m not?—”

“Because,” I cut her off, cupping that prideful face and turning it back towards mine, “I wouldn’t mind it if you were. It’s a good look on you.”

More color rushes to her face at my words. She looks so delicious like this—positively edible. “Don’t play games with me,” she rasps. “Not about this.”

I don’t tell her that I want to play all sorts of games with her. That, right now, Nikita’s unconscious body in my bed is the only thing keeping me from pushing her down and showing her exactly how little reason she has to be jealous.

“You tell me,” I croon into her ear. Faint notes of her perfume hang in the air, sweet as cotton candy. It drives me fucking crazy. “Am I toying with you right now?”

She’s breathless. Red. “Sure feels like it sometimes,” she whispers, but her heart’s not in it. She isn’t doing a thing to resist me, not even as I dive into her neck and fill my lungs with the sweetness of her scent.

Blyat’. I was supposed to cut off all contact with her. To stop seeing her, stop thinking about her, stop wanting her perfect fucking body under mine.

I’ve never turned to drugs in my life, but I imagine this is what it must feel like: to be hopelessly in the clutches of something else, something you can’t live without. Something that consumes you.

I angle her head towards mine, fit my mouth over those perfect lips?—

—and my fucking phone rings.

“Is that…?” Mia gasps, breaking away from me.

I roll my eyes and pick up. “Talk, Maks.”

“Nikita’s trail is nonexistent,” he says without any preambles. “Someone beat us to it.”

Fucking hell. Just what we needed. Our enemies are shipping off to greener pastures, and somehow, they’re still quicker and more efficient than us.

“Look harder,” I bark. “Or else I’ll kick you all to the streets and hire a bunch of nurses to replace you.”

Far from cowering at my threats, Maksim laughs. “Heard that, boys? Grease your elbows. It’s gonna be an all-nighter.”

“Keep me posted.”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

By the time I shove my phone back in my pocket, Mia has scooted a little further down the bed. Embarrassment still colors her face.

I find myself grateful for the distance. It gives me time to get my bearings, get my riotous body back under control.

“I should go,” Mia says, rising all of a sudden. “I’m already late as it is, and Eli?—”

“He needs you.”

I stand up with her, show her to the door. Even as every instinct is screaming at me to keep her here. With me.

I could send for Eli. I could make up a room for each of them. I could build us a house, bigger and better and safer than any fortress. I could?—

But you can’t. Not in this life.

Right. I’ve already made my choice. No point putting it off. Better to rip off the Band-Aid here and now.

Mia’s blue eyes find mine. She looks uncertain. Like she’s tiptoeing on the edge of a cliff. “So, you’ll be okay on your own? Both of you?”

“Yes.”

“I can stay if you?—”

“There’s no need.” This is it, I tell myself. My chance to cut her loose. “Mia, our contract?—”

“I was suspended,” she says out all of a sudden. “From the hospital.”

I blink. “Suspended?”

“Brad’s little plan,” she says. “He fed the admin some lies about what happened when he came in. He’s a big donor, so…”

Rage fills my veins. “He came to hurt you again.”

I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him for real.

Suddenly, I don’t care about my revenge anymore—all I want is a different pound of flesh.

Mia seems to read it on my face. “He couldn’t,” she whispers, putting her arm on mine. “Not this time. Because I had you.”

It’s a knife right between the ribs. “Mia…”

“Our contract, I mean.” She’s stumbling on every word, as nervous as I’ve ever seen her.

Like she can feel me stepping back, but has no intention of letting me.

Every time I try to push her away, she only pulls harder.

Without an agenda, without hidden motives.

“Your advance—it saved my life. Literally. So… thank you.”

Tell her, my conscience screams at me. Tell her the truth. All of it.

But the words don’t come.

“You were saying…?” Mia asks. “About the contract?”

“Right.” I swallow the lump of cement in my throat. “I’ll need you for an event. Tomorrow. I realize it’s short notice.”

“Not gonna be a problem,” she grins. “Lucky for you, my schedule’s wide open. Text me the details.”

“I will.”

“Thanks.”

She hovers at the door for a moment, undecided. Then, as if gathering up all her courage, she stands on her tiptoes.

It’s the shortest kiss of my life. The lightest, gentlest kiss.

It hurts like a thousand cuts.

“Goodnight, Yulian.”

“… Goodnight, Mia.”

Then she’s gone.

The second she disappears behind my front door, I stride back to my bedroom, stopping only to pick up a bottle of ice water from the fridge.

Then I dump the contents on Nikita’s face.

“FUCK!” She jolts upright, gasping for breath. “What the—?! Oh. It’s just you.”

Not many people on this Earth would react like that upon seeing me. For most criminals in this city, I’m the Grim Reaper incarnate.

But Nikita’s different. Nikita knows what binds us. She knows it’s sacred.

She also knows how to tell my moods. And right now, even through the haze of her situation, she can tell I’m in my darkest one yet.

“Start talking,” I snarl. “Now.”