“Do you speak English? Do you not understand what the fuck I’m saying? I am a doctor and he is dying. Do you want his blood on you?”
The two of them looked at each other.
“Talk to me. You can see for yourself. I’m not making this up and I didn’t do this. He is going to die without help that I can’t give him here.” When they still didn’t budge, I was completely exasperated. “Well, I am not going to let him die. I’ll do this without you.”
“Wait. Where is he?” one of them asked.
Breathing a sigh of relief, I pointed to the house. “On the second floor. There’s a security room. I can’t budge him.”
“Stay here. I’ll get him. Bring the SUV,” he told the other soldier. With his thick Russian accent, I could barely understand him, but when he took off running, I realized I was in pajamas.
I rushed after him, bounding up the stairs and into the room, not paying a single bit of attention to what I’d thrown on. At least I had the forethought to grab my hospital ID. Not everyone knew who I was and this was going to cause quite a stir. I also grabbed Kirill’s weapon, securing it in my purse.
By the time I returned downstairs, an SUV had been pulled to the front, the soldier easing Kirill into the backseat. Almost instantly, he became combative, his delusional state the reason.
As if on a psychedelic drug, he was much stronger or at least concentrating his efforts on driving the soldier away.
Every sound was a deep growl, every action a swing.
“I’ve got him. I’ll do this.” I jumped in, fighting him with everything I had. “Calm down, Kirill. We’re trying to help you.”
As the two soldiers climbed inside the front, I willed them to hurry.
“No. No!” Kirill railed as the driver pressed down on the accelerator. While I didn’t like it, the best bet was taking him to the hospital where I worked. At least I could treat him myself. “Head to Mount Sinai and for God’s sake, step on it.”
I grabbed Kirill’s fists before he could hit me, sensing he was starting to lose strength. His complexion was ghostly, his eyes already starting to roll back into his head.
The reaction was much stronger than I’d originally thought, which could indicate a poison that had covered the knife. Nowonder the assailant hadn’t killed Kirill. He’d wanted him to die a slow death.
What in the hell was really going on?
When Kirill’s arms fell to the side, I pressed my hand against his cheek. “Stay with me, Kirill. Please, just stay with me.” There was no reason for me to be begging him to continue breathing, fighting the horrible infection that was already destroying his body. I didn’t have a hold on him because I didn’t want to. I couldn’t.
Or at the very minimum, I shouldn’t.
Yet with every difficult breath he took, relief and trepidation warred within me.
I pulled his head into my lap, stroking his forehead, terrified of the outcome. But there was nothing I could do. Not now. Maybe not without a miracle.
My throat hurt, likely to bruise from how strong his hold had been, but I knew the act had been done in the throes of his sickness. As worrying as the way his body was shutting down was how he’d affected me. I’d seen the darkness within him, the push for power and vengeance, but I’d also seen his softer underbelly in being able to shove aside his work and his need for revenge if only for a little while.
And the way he’d touched me with such intense passion had taken my breath away.
God, what was I doing? What was I thinking? He had an entire list of my life on the computer screen. Where I’d gone to school and where I’d interned before New York. And my friends. Heknew my friends. Next, he’d discovered who my… boyfriend had been.
My almost fiancé.
The entire situation was ridiculous. I’d lost the one man I’d dared love on his way to propose to me and this man, this arrogant Russian prince had told me in no uncertain terms we were getting married. The irony was hysterical.
I almost laughed as nerves kicked in more than before. When a man in a crime syndicate told you that you were getting married, it was an arrangement for power. That’s why I worried for my baby sister.
Love was never the reason for marriage in our world. Because love wasn’t allowed.
His moan pulled me from the ugly shadows and I cradled his head, finding myself praying that he’d survive. Did that mean I cared about him? If so, how was that even possible?
I longed to hear his voice as he whispered my name, or to see the light in his eyes when he was amused by my banter. While I knew very little about Kirill, what I did know was that he was a hurricane, destroying everything in his path.
He was the bull in a china shop, incapable of controlling his actions when pushed beyond his means of comfort. I was merely the woman who’d challenged him.
