Time Stood Still (Volkov Bratva #3.5)

by London Miller

  Once Mishca dropped the anchor, she wasted no time diving in, smiling at the feel of the water enveloping her. When she came back up, she saw Mishca smiling at her from his position on the boat. She smiled back, but only for a moment before she began swimming for the rocks.

  “What are you doing?” He called after her.

  She had a choice, obviously. Either keep going, or pretend like she hadn’t heard him and keep going, knowing that if she did either, he would get upset. Of course, she picked the latter.

  Mishca dived in after her, but it was too late. She was already climbing up to the top, a smile on her face as she went. Once she was finally in a relatively safe spot—after she waited for the waves to recede so she could see better—she gradually got to her feet, clapping at her success.

  “I’ll be fine, Mish,” she called back, not bothering to look back at him, knowing that if she did that the look he was wearing would force her to climb back down. “This isn’t my first time doing this.”

  “Get your ass down!” He was clearly upset, but Lauren tuned him out, almost to the top.

  Once she got up there, and was steady on her feet, she smiled down at him, waving enthusiastically, even as he glowered.

  “That’s the plan.”

  Even from her distance, she could see his hands were balled into fists and she didn’t doubt that if he didn’t have a healthy dose of fear of heights, he would have come after her.

  But at the moment, while she felt like was at the very tip of the world, the wind whipping her hair around, her arms outstretched, she felt invincible. She stayed there for a while, letting that emotion consume her entirely before she jumped over the edge.

  The water came at her fast, and she only had a second to scream before she was underwater. She sunk for only a short amount of time before she breached the surface again, tossing her hair back and wiping the seawater from her eyes so she could see Mishca better. He was glowering, as she had expected him to be, but he didn’t look that upset.

  “How many more times?” He asked sarcastically, probably thinking that once would have been enough.

  It wasn’t.

  And she made sure he knew that.

  ***

  “What hurts?”

  “Everything.”

  Lauren was not above begging him to carry her the short distance from their car to the front door of their rental, but kept going, always thinking that she was one step closer to a wonderful down bed that she was more than ready to sink into. She had forgotten just how tiring swimming was, especially since it had been a while since the last time she had done it.

  “Come here.”

  He swept her up like she weighed next to nothing, and she nearly sighed in relief as the constant agony in her legs vanished. Mishca only set her on her feet long enough for him to unlock and open the door

  “There are dozens of reasons why I love you, Mish. This is one of them.”

  His lips twitched. “The feeling is mutual. Maybe now you’ll rethink this need to do things like cliff jumping?”

  “Not a chance.”

  When they hit the bedroom, Lauren would have been more than happy to plop down on the bed and spend hours that way, but Mishca had other plans. He kept a tight hold of her, going through to the bathroom instead.

  “Mish—”

  “Not yet.”

  “But—”

  “Pover’te mne—Trust me.”

  Not about to argue—especially with the underlying promise she heard in his words—she let him sit her down on the counter, watching as he went over to turn on the shower, adjusting the taps until the room was filled with steam. He came back to her, helping her out of her dress, then her bikini.

  Mishca helped her to her feet, walking them both into the stall, the heat of the water falling from the shower head above them, soothing her aching muscles. On one of the built-in stone benches, she relaxed, observing him, appreciating the view, cataloguing the tattoos that covered him.

  The stars on his chest, the epaulettes on his shoulders, the rising sun and line of script on his forearm, and both crosses were familiar to her, ones that represented his life within the Bratva, but there was a relatively new one that was on his opposite arm that was devoid of any connection to the others. It was placed on his inner bicep, in a place easily hidden by the suits he wore daily, but she preferred it that way.

  Lauren liked them having something to themselves, apart from the Bratva and more than that, she liked what it represented.

  The tattoo was of a pocket watch, his artist adding in hints of gold, the only color that Mishca had in all of his tattoos. The clock was set at twenty minutes before eight o’ clock, the exact time in which they met. Of course, he would be the one to remember something as insignificant as that.

  One would think that after he had taken the leading role in the Bratva, he would have put on weight, but not Mishca. He was as fit as he’d always been, maybe more so.

  The muscles along his back and chest rippled as he washed away the day and she almost pinched herself when he turned to smile back at her, knowing that he was all hers.

  Reaching a hand out to her, he pulled her to his side, reaching for the small shampoo bottle that had come with the place, squeezing some of it into her hair, carefully massaging it in with the pads of his fingers, drawing them through her hair.

  He didn’t stop with her hair, he cleaned all of her, his intentions pretty clear. Unlike the last few times together, he took it easy on her, gradually bringing her to heights she wasn’t used to.

  By the time they were out and dried off, she really was exhausted and couldn’t bring herself to move again for the rest of the night after she fell asleep.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  It was amazing how time flied while they were in Sardinia, not that any of that time had gone to waste. They explored the city, shopped, checked out the beaches, and went hiking, taking pictures of everything, at least that part was left up to Lauren.

  Tonight was their last night in Sardinia, and they had spent it eating dinner, drinking plenty of the local wine. Instead of driving back to the house immediately, they took a walk, laughing, talking, reminiscing on the time they spent together. This was going particularly well, until Lauren caught sight of someone walking towards them.

  She knew the moment Mishca’s hand flexed at her back that this man, whoever he was, wasn’t just a random tourist. No, he was far too impeccably dressed for that. Not to mention the two men trailing him. For a moment, panic was building inside of her, not knowing what they might do, until three men came out of nowhere, intercepting their path.

  The relief she felt flooded her, but so did the anger.

  To keep from striking out at him, she gripped her clutch tighter, forcing the smile to stay in place as she extracted her hand from his.

  Mishca looked down at her, his expression not giving anything away. “A moment.”

  With the slightest of nods, Lauren stepped to the side, going over to stand closer to the water, not far enough that she couldn’t see them, but far enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation. Whatever this was about, she didn’t think she wanted to know. She didn’t think Mishca could have possibly known about this impromptu meeting, though he’d had to have had some inclination since he obviously hired security.

  The last couple of days had been amazing, had been everything she had wanted. Anonymity. Normality. Lauren couldn’t think of the last time they had spent time together and it had been as innocent as this. No constant phone calls, no secret meetings in the dead of night, and most importantly, none of the constant fear that she would wake up and something would be wrong or someone was dead.

  But this was what she had signed up for, not that regretted that choice.

  Foolishly, she had thought he would be able to keep his promise of not bringing his work with them, but instead of focusing on that, she looked down at her left hand, twisting her ring, staring down at the large sapphire in the cent,
smaller diamonds surrounding it. She knew it had once belonged to his mother, a woman she hadn’t gotten a chance to meet, and she knew the significance of what it stood for to him, but tonight, unlike many other nights, it felt heavy on her finger.

  “Ready?”

  Lauren spun around, looking up into Mishca’s eyes as he rejoined her by the railing. The apology was clear in his eyes, and it was obvious he was waiting for her to call him on it, but she just wasn’t in the mood.

  At least, not yet.

  By the time they reached the car, the security already having gone back to their invisible perches, and took the long journey back to the villa, her anger had only festered.

  ***

  Mishca had barely killed the engine before Lauren was snapping off her seatbelt, forcing the door open as she climbed out and slammed it behind her. He was right behind her, calling her name, and the only thing that made her anger worse was the fact that he had the keys so instead of just being able to let herself in, she had to wait for him.

  “Lauren, I know—”

  “Open the door.”

  He moved to do what she asked, but he took his time about it

  Lauren snatched her hand away. “I’m not mad because they’re here, whoever the hell they are, I’m upset because you should have told me. If I did go somewhere without you and I think I’m alone, here they are…just, stop trying to protect me all the time, Mish. I’m not your child.”

  To keep from doing something—or saying something—she’d regret, Lauren turned her back and headed towards the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her. Pulling the rubber band free from her hair, running her fingers through it before reaching for a face cloth to wash the makeup off. She could hear Mishca in the bedroom, but she didn’t bother calling out to him, not that there was anything left to say now.

  Because she was upset with him, she sat on the sink counter, taking her time, painstakingly getting every bit of mascara off her lashes and the liner along her eyes. Her shoes came off next, then—instead of calling to Mishca as she normally would—she unzipped her dress, letting it fall around her feet on the floor. Taking a moment to herself, she sat in there for as long as she could, until she could no longer stall.

  Hitting the light, she walked out, immediately catching sight of Mishca in bed, an arm thrown over his eyes.The only light in the bedroom that was on was the lamp on his bedside table, and though his body tensed when she came out, he didn’t say anything to her. Unlike their first night, the doors to the balcony were closed, the curtains drawn. Pretending not to notice, she walked around the bed, sliding in until she could just feel his presence beside her.

  Getting comfortable on her side of the bed, she yanked the covers over her body, facing the opposite wall. Seconds ticked by and Mishca didn’t try to break the silence between them. There was enough moonlight spilling into the room to break through the darkness after Mishca turned out the light.

  For a while, they just laid like that, at least until Mishca shifted, turning onto his side as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her into his side. He kept his hand on her stomach, slowing drifting the pads of his fingers from the edge of her bra to her navel and back up again.

  Reaching for his hand, she held it still, keeping it pressed flat against her stomach. “Should I be worried?”

  He didn’t hesitate in answering. “No.”

  She didn’t make him repeat his answer, nor promise that his remark was true, knowing that if it was critical, he would tell her.

  …But also because she wasn’t sure what his promises were worth anymore.

  ***

  “If random men are going to be stopping us on the street, I think I should carry a gun,” Lauren said the next morning over coffee.

  Mishca didn’t respond immediately, trying to decide how best to do it. She was angry with him, that much she could best to do it. She was angry with him, that much he could tell since the moment Gavin approached them last night, though at that time she had seemed more resigned towards the situation than upset. Now, she was either trying to get a rise out of him, was serious, or maybe both, but there was a clear spark in her eyes that promised she was not in a joking mood.

  “Klaus took me to a shooting range a few weeks ago, brush up on my skills.”

  —And probably did it to piss Mishca off, but he didn’t bother mentioning that part.—

  “And Celt—you remember Celt?—he has this pearl-handled .22 that he’s willing to hand over for a price. What do you think?”

  She sat her mug on the table, blinking over at him, smiling innocently, as though she didn’t know—or did and just didn’t care—that he didn’t like the idea of her spending time with them.

  Mishca was dangerously close to shattering the mug in his own hand. “Do you make it a habit to spend time with mercenaries?”

  “Only when I’m not with the Russian Bratva. At least I’m not worried about the two of them killing me.”

  His cup hit the table so hard, even she gave a little jump. “I thought we were past this.”

  “I thought we were past you lying to me. Yet here we are, you withholding information because you think it’s what’s best.”

  He shook his head. “You were not in any danger—”

  “But how do you know? What more has to happen?”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you!” For a second, he regretted raising his voice, but Lauren didn’t shrink away from him, an eerie-like calmness seemed to take her over.

  “And what if something happens to you? Mish, you put your life in your men’s hands, but you don’t trust me to have your back. Unless Luka is at your back, I worry. The men that are at your back now, I don’t trust them not to shoot you themselves let alone put you in a situation where someone else will.”

  His brow furrowed as he studied her, hearing the genuine fear there. “That’s why you’ve been wanting Klaus to agree to work for me by shadowing you…so Luka can stay with me.”

  “They’re the only two I trust to keep you alive, and before you say it, if Klaus really wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.”

  “Come to me.”

  She didn’t hesitate. Despite his frustration, it drained out of him as he wrapped his arms around her. “You worry too much.”

  “I learned to the hard way.”

  He couldn’t deny that. She pulled back, just enough so that she was looking down at him.

  “You have to stop trying to protect me, Mish, because last night when it was just us, who was going to protect you? I’ve been kidnapped, Mish and it’s not fun. I want to be able to protect myself in the rare chance that you can’t.”

  Though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right about him constantly trying to keep her safe by deciding what was best, even if his choices weren’t always the best thing. Conceding, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

  “I’ll set it up.” Another kiss. “And you’re only using it when absolutely necessary. Would you like it in pink?”

  Laughing earnestly at the blatant sarcasm in his voice, Lauren said, “I doubt the person on the other end will care what color the gun is when I’m aiming it at them.”

  ***

  Their last night in Sardinia was slowly coming to an end. Spending another day exploring, Lauren had moved past the anger she’d felt at Mishca that morning, thinking that after everything she had said to him, she had made her point.

  She was currently laying on the bed outside, watching as Mishca swam laps in the infinity pool. He moved fluently through the water. Having been in there for the last half hour, she wondered what had been on his mind after he’d taken a mysterious phone call right before.

  By the time he swam over to the edge, hefting himself out as he grabbed the towel that she had placed there for him and wrapping it around his waist, his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he joined her on the bed, kissing her hip as he made himself more comfortable, horizontal to her.

  “Something on your min
d, Mish?”

  He was quiet for so long that she really began to worry, trying to read his expression as she sat up, reaching for him.

  “Things are going to get ugly very soon,” he said, though it didn’t really sound like he was talking to her, more like speaking his thoughts aloud.

  “Why do you think that?”

  His eyes roamed her face, taking in her expression, and maybe because he was trying to ease the fear inside of her, he smiled. “It will work out, I’m sure.”

  “I want you to remember something, Lauren because I’m sure, you will think I don’t in the upcoming months.”

  “Anything…”

  “I love you.”

  “I know that, Mish.”

  “And I love my sister, and I’ll do anything I have to to protect the both of you. Even if I have to make sacrifices to do so. Do you get this?”

  “There’s something you’re not telling me, Mish. I’m not going to freak out—much. You can tell me.”

  He sighed, kissing her forehead and she knew, despite her request, he wouldn’t be telling her anything more. And while they laid together under the stars on the last night of their honeymoon, she wondered what they would be walking into when they got back home.

  CHAPTER NINE

  6 weeks later…

  At three in the morning, the streets of Manhattan were still bustling, though not nearly as busy as it usually was during the day. While most were asleep at this unreasonable hour, Lauren was hunched over a toilet, dry heaving since there was very little left in her to throw up. She had been in this position for a little more than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity as she kneeled on the cool tiles, purging everything from her stomach.

  When she was sure that she was done—or was able to move without that churning feeling in her stomach—Lauren slowly got to her feet, going over to the sink to splash water on her face and brush her teeth, breathing deeply through her nose, more than glad that the nausea was passing. Her hands were shaking just slightly, a light sheen of sweat on her face and sticking the shirt she wore to her back, but it was more because of her nerves than anything else.