He felt solid. Safe.
I’d once heard Toby refer to Ivan as one of the scary men, but I’d looked scary men straight in the eye, and I think Ivan could probably eat them all for breakfast…
… andthatdidn’t scare me either.
“Marcos.” My name on his lips was enough to tear me from my thoughts. “You did good, but the hard part’s over now.”
“You’re missing a kidney.”
“Didn’t like that one, anyway.”
I frowned. “I told you that you didn’t have to pretend for me.”
“And I told you I don’t pretend. Never. And especially not with you.”
I sort of wanted to shove my face in his neck and my fingers in his beard, but that would be weird.
Right?
“Mr. Koslov. It’s good to see you awake.”
I’ve become familiar with that voice and the man it belongs to. Dr. Hawthorne was the one who performed Ivan’s surgery, and I suspected he knew a little more than the public did about why exactly Ivan was here.
Ivan’s hand slipped from my skin when I straightened, and the doctor took a step toward him. There was an oversized tablet in his hand and a pen behind his ear. He adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat but his eyes stayed on his screen even as he spoke.
“How are you feeling?”
Ivan's voice was flat. “I want this tube off my face and this needle out of my hand.”
“The tube can be arranged, Mr. Koslov, but I’d recommend keeping your IV line for now. It has the morphine.”
Ivan made a gruff sound.
Dr. Hawthorne’s gaze lifted over the rim of his tablet, and they seemed to widen when they spotted me standing across from him. I’d say the surprise in his expression had something to do with me being out of that chair.
I hadn’t moved or spoken in the few times he’d been in Ivan’s room, and when he tried to touch one of my blankets, I screamed so loud it was a miracle Ivan didn’t wake up right then and there.
“If I could get the room, gentlemen. I’d like to look over the patient’s injuries…”
Elijah was already moving, one foot in front of the other, until he was idling in the doorway, a furrow between his eyebrows as he stared in my direction.
My body pivoted like I was going to move, the sole of my shoe peeling off the floor, but I froze before I could take a step. Sweat pooled along my hairline. My heart thumped, and I pressed a palm to it, shaking my head.
I can’t leave.
The thought of leaving him was like a boulder in my stomach. It was why I was still half-dressed and covered in his blood. Why I’d barely eaten and spent three days folded in that sad excuse of a chair.
Walking away meant walking straight back into that hallway. Ivan might not scare me, but the rest of the world was damned, and I was tired of wearing blood that wasn’t mine.
“No,” I finally said.
“Mr. Koslov is doing remarkably well. His surgery was a success. He’s breathing on his own. Free of infection.”
His reassurance was just words, moving in one ear and out the other.
“I’m not leaving.”
My heart quickened in pace when the doctor took a step toward me. Arm stretched forward, I saw his fingers start to twitch. Bile churned in my stomach, and just before his fingers touched my skin, I opened my mouth and screamed.
