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“You must be feeling better,” she said. “You’re getting grumpy again.”
He took a drink of the coffee, then looked up, expecting to see Max as the door to his room opened.
But it wasn’t Max. It was Roman’s brother, Erik.
What was even more surprising was how fast Ruby sprang into action, setting her coffee down and marching toward Erik before he’d gotten three feet inside the room.
“No,” she said, putting her hands on his chest and pushing him back.
“Who the fuck…” he started, grabbing Ruby’s wrists. His drug use had made him scrawny, but he was still tall, still bigger than Ruby, and the sight of him putting hands on her lit the familiar match of Roman’s rage.
“Get your hands off her,” Roman roared. He started to get up, fought against the pain in his chest.
“Roman, no,” Ruby said, abandoning her bid to keep Erik out in favor of keeping Roman in his bed.
As far as Roman knew, she’d never met his brother, but what had happened at the Orlovs’ funeral was all over the news. She must have seen Erik there.
Erik held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I just want to talk.” He glanced at Ruby. “I didn’t know you had a little guard dog.”
“Don’t… even… look… at… her,” Roman wheezed.
“Taking a bullet to the heart obviously hasn’t made you any more reasonable,” Erik said.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Ruby told him.
Her eyes were lit with the stubborn fire Roman loved, and he couldn’t help admiring her determination in the face of everything she’d been through. Everything she was still going through.
“I’m family,” he said to Roman, smoothing back the lock of brown hair that had fallen forward during the altercation with Ruby. “And we need to talk.”
This time he didn’t look at Ruby, and Roman felt a surge of satisfaction. His little brother was still a puppy, following the biggest dog in the room.
And that was still Roman.
Roman looked at Ruby. “Give us ten minutes.”
She frowned. “But— ”
“Please,” he said.
“I’ll bring Max his coffee and let Georgiy know,” she said. It was a warning to Erik — Ruby might be leaving but someone would be listening — and Roman bit back a bark of laughter that would only make his chest hurt more.
Only Ruby — all 5’4” of her — would dare to issue a warning to Erik Kalashnik. He wasn’t Igor and he definitely wasn’t Roman, but he was still a member of the bratva, and Ruby didn’t give two shits.
She plucked the last coffee from the cardboard holder and glared daggers at Roman’s brother on her way out the door.
The room fell into silence and Erik moved closer to Roman’s bed, looking around the room like he was gauging the suitability of a new apartment. He looked taller than usual, more in control, and Roman wondered if it was because Igor was in the hospital, if his brother was deluded enough to think he had a chance of taking control if Igor didn’t survive.
“You should have had them upgrade you,” Erik said. “Father is in a suite.”
“I won’t be here long enough for it to matter.”
Erik chuckled and shook his head, then sat in the plastic chair usually occupied by Ruby. “Still an arrogant prick, I see.”
“Better an arrogant prick than a junkie sycophant,” Roman said.
Roman saw the shadow of their father in the flash of Erik’s blue eyes. “I’m clean.”
For how long?Roman wanted to ask.A month? A week? An hour?
