Page 90 of Possessive Mafia Bodyguard

“They’ll have to go through me first.”

Ambulances halt at the entrance to the docks, and Tamara freezes. She doesn’t move when paramedics approach us in their green uniforms, the sirens casting patterns across the quayside. She barely reacts when a silver-haired man with bushy eyebrows sets down his medical bag, his movements calm and steady, and raises his hands palms outwards.

His eyes meet mine briefly and I give him a nod.

“Hello. My name is Sal,” he says. “Can I come closer?”

I rest my hand on Tamara’s elbow. She’s trembling, fight-or-flight barreling through her and hitting a wall because she knows that the child needs help, but she can’t let go.

“Her name is Katya,” Tamara says. “She’s the only survivor.”

Her knees give way, and I catch her in my arms, sinking to my knees on the dock and cradling her and the child on my lap.

That’s where we stay while Sal checks Katya’s vital signs. He works quickly and efficiently talking to her in soft tones that suggest he has children and potentially grandchildren of his own.

“I’m just placing this clip on your finger, Katya, to take your temperature. I’m counting your heartbeats now, Katya. And this little light is going to shine in your eyes for just for a moment.” He addresses me when he is done. “We need to get her to ER. She’s seriously dehydrated and malnourished, and her condition will need to be monitored until it stabilizes.”

Tamara clings more tightly to the child. “No. I’m not leaving her.”

“You can come with her,” Sal says gently. “We’ll need to stitch up the wound on your arm.”

“Not yet.” Tamara looks at me, eyes dark with panic. “Ivana. I can’t go anywhere until we’ve found Ivana.”

“Andrej is taking care of it, sweetheart. If anyone can find her…”

“Where is he? I should be helping.” She tries to stand and falls heavily back into my lap.

Blood from the bullet wound on her arm is soaking through my sweater, but I’d refuse to budge if Connor was somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, and I’m not going to move her against her will.

“Can you patch it up?” I ask Sal. “I’ll take full responsibility for them and bring them to the ER myself.” It’s obvious that Tamara won’t let them take the child, who is still motionless in her arms.

“I’ve never taken anyone to the ER against their will,” Sal says while his colleague cleans up the bullet wound. “And I believe you. But I have a duty of care to the child. She needs an IV; it isn’t optional.”

While he prepares the equipment, I hold Tamara close and keep my voice calm and steady. “I know you don’t want to let her go, sweetheart, and that’s okay. But you want what’s best for her. Talk to her. Let her know that we’re not the bad guys, that this might sting a little, but it means she gets to stay with you.”

Tamara’s whispers provide a gentle backdrop to the paramedic’s process. The child barely flinches when the needle penetrates her skin but keeps her eyes locked on the angel who saved her, and my heart swells with pride for them both.

“I’m leaving the bullet in the wound,” the paramedic explains as he applies Steri-strips to hold it together temporarily and covers the pulpy flesh of Tamara’s upper arm with a sterile dressing. “It needs to be removed under local anesthetic.”

Tamara doesn’t react while he works on her arm. She keeps her eyes firmly fixed on Katya as if looking away might give the Bratva the opportunity to come back and steal her away.

When the paramedics have done what they can for us in the circumstances, I realize that Leonid’s injured men have already been treated, but Andrej is nowhere to be found. My pulse races. He took control of the Ivana situation. He is the only one who can keep Tamara grounded now; he must realize that she will want to be involved every step of the way.

“Can you stand, sweetheart?” I ask.

Tamara tries out her legs like a fawn walking for the first time, and I hold her waist to support her until she faces me with a small smile. The child looks even more vulnerable with the glow of the ambulances’ rotating lights turning her skin blue, and the IV in her arm, but I don’t try to take her from Tamara.

Leonid strides towards us, concern forming creases across his forehead and around his mouth.

“Where is Andrej?” I ask him before Tamara can speak.

“Inside.” He gestures to the low office building that supports the dock. “I told him to focus on finding Ivana.”

His expression softens when he looks at Tamara and the child in her arms, and I can almost see him transported back to the moment when he rescued two little girls and altered their lives forever. Whatever I’ve thought of him in the past, nothing compares to the kindness he showed Tamara and her sister.

Tamara is already heading inside, Katya’s legs swinging against her as she walks.

I linger for a couple of beats, sensing that Leonid has more to say.