by L. L. Ash
After that, I was home free.
I didn’t hear the sirens, but I saw the police heading toward the church at full speed while I went the opposite way. I’d left blood in the building, and I knew that. There was no helping it. But even if they ran it, they’d find no match. So as long as there were no cameras inside the building or storage areas to capture my face, I was golden.
Normally I didn’t go in so quick and shooty, but there wasn’t time. Either way the deed was done, and I would deal with the aftermath later.
The men at the gate were surprised to see me pull up, and they let me in, nodding their heads in respect.
“How the everliving fuck did you survive?” asked one of Vishka’s head men as he eyed me, heading into the huge home that housed not just the boss and his family, but all his officers, too.
“Because I’m not a pussy gangster,” was my simple answer.
Damn, my voice sounded weird in my ears. But hey, at least my hearing was coming back.
A bunch of people approached me, one of which had the balls to touch my arm since I was obviously bleeding on the floor.
“Sit,” Vishka said, stepping into his office where I decided to take a seat since the world was kind of churning around me.
I did, collapsing into a velvet lounge chair while his men shooed the other people from the room.
“Color me impressed,” he murmured, stripping off my jacket roughly before tossing it toward the roaring fireplace.
The mob boss ripped open the sleeve of my shirt and looked at the wound before he went to get a box from a shelf near his desk. His fingers dipped into it and out they came with first aid supplies.
“The fuck is this?” I asked.
Why the hell was a boss cleaning up my wound?
“Looks like a clean in and out,” he told me, dumping some vodka straight onto the bloody hole.
I clenched my teeth against the growl of agony that wanted to burst through.
“You a doctor or somethin’?” I asked him while he eyed the wound.
“No. But I’ve been a pincushion before and I know how to treat bullet wounds. Here, take this.”
He handed me the vodka and I took it, downing a long gulp before leaning my head back.
The man sprayed something on it, likely an antiseptic before he spread a greasy thing on me, then wrapped me up. Fuck I was really tired of being wrapped in gauze.
“You’ll live,” Vishka said, patting my arm right on the wound like a total fucking wanker before he backed up and perched his ass on his desk. “Did you do it?”
I pulled out my burner phone, fully fucking aware that I’d have to destroy it now that it carried evidence of the man I’d killed.
“Proof,” I said, handing it over with the picture on the screen.
He looked at it, nodded, then threw it in the fire to melt and burn.
“Good. And you managed not to die. I’d consider that a pretty damn good day, Ghost.”
“Yeah, me too,” I agreed, stripping off my white dress shirt the rest of the way so I could explore the sore spots on my side and back.
“Got you pretty good. Get some cold packs on those and I’ll send for the doctor again. You may have a broken rib by the dark purple there.”
I was pretty sure I did.
“Fine. I just want to go lay down for now.”
“You already have a bedroom set up.”
“No. I want a bed next to hers. Make it happen.”
And he did.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Max
My eyes opened when I felt something poking my already sore and inflamed side. So much for sleeping off the pain.
A man in a collared shirt and with a stethoscope stood behind me, probing the massive bruises on my side and back.
“Bruised, not broken,” he announced to the room full of myself, Mila and Zoya.
“Good. Give me some vodka and I’ll be right as rain.”
He tisked, but Zoya handed me the bottle. I took another couple swigs from it, hoping to ease the pain a little before I turned to Mila, looking at me from her bed.
“I heard what happened,” she admitted. “Why would you do that?”
Because I couldn’t lose you.
Because I would kill every bad person in the world to keep you safe.
Because life isn’t worth living if you’re not in it.
“They needed someone with a specific skill set and I just happened to be the only sucker around who had them,” I told her.
I expected a smile, but instead I got a frown.
“You could have died, Max,” she whispered.
“I would die a thousand times to make sure you’re safe,” I breathed back.
She sat up, pressing her hand against her belly as she looked into my eyes.
“You’re a dumb idiot.”
“I know,” I admitted.
And there was that gorgeous smile I was looking for.
“Kiss me,” she whispered so quietly I almost didn’t hear her with the damage in my ears.
Ignoring the sharp, intense pain in my ribs, I leaned forward and met her halfway, searing my lips to hers in a passionate, but also brief, kiss.
“I hate that we’re both injured,” she complained as she collapsed back onto the bed with a groan.
“We’ll be fine soon enough,” I reassured as I laid back and closed my eyes, pressing my hand to my waist to make sure I was still armed.
No way in hell was I going to find myself drugged up, injured, and unarmed in a house full of lawless gangsters.
“And then what?” she asked.
I didn’t answer her. As cowardly as it was, I pretended to sleep to avoid answering. Because I didn’t know what was next. I didn’t know what she would say if I asked her to stay with me. I didn’t know if I was even capable of truly giving up on my calling of justice.
I didn’t know a lot of things, but for her, it was worth digging through my brain to find out. And thanks to my bruised ribs, I’d be down and out for a few days until I could get up and move again without too much pain. So, I had plenty of time to think about it.
Mila
God, the pain was intense, but luckily I had some pills that took the edge off it. A doctor came every day to check my wound and make sure it was healing and not rotting, which I greatly appreciated. Zoya barely left my side, which gave me little time to talk privately with Max.
Max…
The man laid there silent in the bed most of the time, only awake for short portions before he would fall asleep again.
“It’s good for his healing,” Zoya said, breaking me out of my own thoughts. “You should be sleeping too.”
“I’ve been doing nothing but sleep,” I told her. “I’m allowed to have a moment of staring while he sleeps.”
Zoya grinned.
“You love him, don’t you?”
I do.
“I— Maybe,” I conceded before the words blurted out of my mouth.
“He will be a hard man to love, doch. Are you prepared for that?”
“I’m prepared to do or give up anything,” I admitted. “I can’t imagine my life without him. I just wish he felt the same.”
“He feels the same,” she said with a small, gentle smile. “I can see it in his eyes each time he looks at you. I can hear it in his words when he speaks. He left here, prepared to die in his mission to protect you. He cares nothing for us here. He went there to ensure your safety.”
“Are you so sure?” I asked.
It all sounded too good to be true.
“Ask him yourself,” she said, pointing over my shoulder where Max’s bed laid.
“Give us a few,” I heard his gravelly voice say from behind me.
Zoya stood and left the room, giving us some room to speak about what I’d just said and what he’d obviously just heard.
Fuck I wish I had been more careful with my words.
“You love me?” he asked quietly.
“Hav
en’t I already said as much?”
He chewed his lip for a moment before sitting up on his elbow, then grimacing and pressing a hand to his ribs.
“Why, Mila? I’m not—I’m not good enough for you.”
“Says who?”
“Says the whole Goddamn universe, kisa.”
“Then fuck the universe,” I whispered.
His eyes closed and he took as big a breath as he could manage with his sore ribs.
“I will always love you, but I love you enough to get you the fuck away from me,” he said, not meeting my eyes. “I’ll get you killed or worse.”
“Is there nothing that would turn you away from this life?” I asked, feeling my heart start to rip in two inside my chest.
“One thing,” he said, his eyes turning up to meet mine. “You.”
A tear streaked down my cheek and he watched it trail, then drop.
“Then will you come with me?” I asked him again, hoping beyond hope that maybe he would say yes this time.
He didn’t answer right away. Instead he stood, quite painfully, and made his way toward my own bed. I moved over, anticipating his movements and made room so he could slip in beside me. Just like all those nights we spent on the bunk together, nestled in a pile of sleeping bags.
My belly ached for a moment, being mad that I moved it at all, then the pain dulled as I stilled, his body pressed against my other side.
“I will go anywhere for you,” he whispered. “I will fight the whole world if I have to. I will protect you until my dying breath, and I will do anything it takes to make you happy.”
Such incredible promises from a strong, autonomous man like him.
His fingers slid into my hair, ratted and knotted after my adventurous last twenty-four hours.
“But you gotta promise me one thing. And you have to keep it,” he said, his voice nothing more than a light breath.
“Anything,” I told him.
“You can’t leave me. No matter what, I need you with me. ‘Cause my life just isn’t worth a whole hell of a lot if you aren’t in it. That’s why I’ve been doing what I’m doing. I never had anything to lose.”
“Now you do.” I nodded in understanding. “And I promise you, if you keep your vows, I will keep mine. I am not going anywhere, Max. Even if you get bossy and demanding and annoying, I’ll be here for you. Every morning and night, I’ll be in your bed if you will, too.”
His head dropped, but not in a kiss. Our foreheads pressed together as we both closed our eyes, soaking in each other’s presence.
“I don’t think it’s really healthy,” he admitted. “This whole thing. A psych would tell us to break up to avoid codependency.”
I laughed and opened my eyes, watching a grin spread across his face.
“It’s not codependency. Would you function without me?”
“Barely.”
“Would I?”
“I sure to God hope so.”
“I would,” I told him. “But the world would seem grey without you. You bring the color back into my life that I never knew I was missing.”
“In the form of hot barrels, gunpowder and bullets,” he grumbled.
“In the form of laughs and smiles and this fluttering in my stomach that only ever happened to me right before a performance. You make me feel it every time you enter the room. You make everything more tolerable. You’re everything I never knew I wanted.”
His smile melted into a small curl on each side of his lips.
“Like I said, you’re too Goddamn good for me, kisa.”
“I like it that way, pisoiaș. That way you’ll always remember who’s boss.”
He burst into stilted laughter before quickly stopping and kissing my lips briefly, softly.
“I guess you got some new baggage in the shape of an ex-assassin.”
“Good thing I’ve been working out all my life. I’m pretty sure I could carry you through the airport. Or on one of those carts with wheels.”
He chuckled again before tucking his body around mine gently and letting out a small sigh.
“I love you,” I whispered to him, right into the top of his hair. “And I want you. All of you. Even the broken, scarred parts.”
His hand brushed down my body, softly grazing where my bandage was on my belly before grasping my hip and squeezing, as if trying to hug me even though he wasn’t sure how to with my injury. Then we were silent.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Mila
“We’re getting out of this hell hole,” Max said with a groan, flipping open the suitcase we shared in order to stuff our things back inside of it.
It’d been just over a week and the doctor had finally given me the thumbs up to fly. So we were packing to leave.
Max had been on short nerves since stepping foot in the mobster house, and I didn’t blame him, especially after the attack. But it seemed that his mission, which left him with several injuries, was a success because we hadn’t heard from the attackers since. Nothing but peace and quiet prevailed in the violent household.
Needless to say, we were both eager to get on with things, and to have some privacy just to ourselves, because we got none. If Zoya wasn’t in the room with me, then a guard was, or there was a guard outside the door. Max and I only spoke in whispers, and to say I craved him was a complete understatement. I craved every part of him. Especially the physical part.
“Fuck it, let’s just leave it and I’ll get you all new shit when we get wherever we’re going,” he said, standing up and pressing his palm to his side.
The man was still in a lot of pain, but every time I tried to tell him to wait at least a few more days, he scowled at me and blatantly said ‘no’.
“I just want to get out of this Godforsaken country and off to start...whatever it is we’re starting.”
“Have you looked at flights?” I asked, watching him throw up his hands and knock over the suitcase, which just made him wince more.
“We’ll take the first plane out of here.”
“You’re in pain, Max...”
“I don’t care. I want to have a night of sleep where I don’t have to keep one eye open. And I want to be with you.”
His eyes met mine and I saw exactly what he meant. I could feel it too, burning in my chest with need for him.
“Fine. Leave the bag. Let’s just go.”
He nodded and stepped over the clothes littering the floor. We had nothing but what was on us, and something about that was exhilarating.
“All we need are the passports and IDs, and I’ve got my card in my wallet.”
“The rest is in my pocket book,” I said, double checking.
“Mila?” came Zoya’s soft voice.
She let herself into the room and held out an envelope to me.
“This just arrived. I believe it’s from your father.”
My father? They knew where I was?
Tearing into the envelope, I took out the paper with shaky hands just as Max stepped up behind me to read it as well.
Songbird,
Guess you always wanted me to try letter writing. It’s such an outdated way to communicate in a world where everything is instant.
I’m writing this because Tată is watching my every move and keeping track of all my outgoing messages and calls. You kind of fucked me over that way, so thanks.
When you left, I was so mad. I couldn’t believe you’d betrayed us like that, Mila. I couldn’t believe you would do that to me, your own brother.
After some time I began to understand. I was the one who followed you to Paris, and I saw you with him. I think you were arguing or something, but I saw this look in your eyes that I had never seen before. You loved him. Tată wanted me to bring you home, but I just couldn’t. I told him I never found you, because for the first time in our lives, I saw your fire come out. To douse it with a wet rag like Kir would have been something like those Shakespeare tragedies you liked to read when we were little. You deserve so much more
than he could have ever given you.
You went off the grid for a while, and Tată panicked, but I knew that you were ok. Even if things didn’t work out with that guy I saw you with, I knew that you would be alright. I hope you’re preparing to sing for an opera right now and living life to its fullest.
There are just a few things I want you to know.
When I heard you were back in Russia, with the Bratva traitors no less, I was shocked. But also grateful. I know this will be painful, but I hope it will ease your mind, because I know how you like to worry.
Tată has disowned you. He has, as is said, scratched your name out of the books. We do not mention your name, and we do not speak of you. It’s been awful lonely for me, but I chose this life. You never had a choice in the matter, and I’m so glad that now you will get that. Just be assured that you are safe. Tată will not come after you. Take your little boy toy and maybe make a baby or two, but promise if you have a son, you’ll name him after your little brother Danny!
I love you, dear sister.
There likely won’t be another letter from me because I don’t know where you’re going, and I can’t risk sending a messenger like this again, but know that you are always in my heart and my thoughts, and I wish you all the happiness in the world. You were never sorted for this business.
You know, even in my dreams I can still hear you singing! That’s how you got your name. My big sister, the little songbird.
Only the best for you and your incredible future.
Love,
Daniel Vasile. AKA the coolest little brother in the universe.
Tears were streaming down my face by the time I finished the letter.
Danny had come through on so many levels by sending that letter. He eased my heart, my worries, and my pain.
Of course I knew, deep down in my soul, that my actions would betray Tată. And because of that, he would disown me. After how he had sold me off to the mafia, it was something I was willing to sacrifice, even though it killed a part of me to do it. But losing Danny was by far the hardest part of leaving. He had moments of roughness and cruelty, but never towards me until our ill-fated trip to Saint Petersburg. I would miss his smiles and jokes, his easy laughter and his nickname. I would continue to miss him, too, for the rest of my life. I could only hope that he would live a long and full life like I intended to. A life lived with Maxim Kovac.
