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Elias was the voice of reason for us both. “She’s fine. I bet her blood pressure went haywire. It’s okay, baby girl.”
Abi moaned, and her lashes fluttered up. When she saw me, tears filled her eyes. “I’m dreaming again.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead, relief making my voice gruff. “No, zhizn moya. You’re awake, I promise.”
She stroked her finger over my freshly shaven jaw. I’d thought there would be more time before Samara returned with her, but she’d barely been gone half an hour. Shifting Abi in my arms, I limped toward the bedroom I’d just come from.
My sister, her new husband, and I had been in the penthouse since Friday night of the previous week. I’d planned on having Abi join us the night we arrived, but her sister’s drama had sent our reunion into a tailspin.
Instead, Elias and I had had other things to deal with. Taking care of Ali’s teacher had been simple enough. He’d blubbered and pleaded for his life, but messing with Ali meant he messed with my sweet girl. I took my time with the bastard, drawing out the torture until the final drop of blood finally drained from his body.
Erasing the many pictures the creep had of her on his computers was child’s play. But ensuring Sixx Sinclair didn’t become a target for the cartel to exploit in their fight clubs took a little extra work.
Samara and I both had to attend a few meetings and stress how displeased we would be if Sixx were to become their new toy. And then I transferred a hundred million into their accounts to ensure there were no hard feelings. It wasn’t my money, but a small portion of the funds I’d stolen for Daria and Polina over the years.
The rest of that cash was in many different accounts that only I had access to now that Daria and Polina were dead. Money I would give to Abi and let her save the world, or destroy it, to her heart’s content.
I hadn’t seen Sixx in action, but from what Samara told me, the boy could fight like a pro. Using him like a gladiator would have been good entertainment for the cartel. That would only cause Abi to worry, which I refused to allow to happen. Once I knew the boy was no longer at risk, I’d sent my sister to pick up Abi.
It was the least Samara could do, considering the misery she’d put me through over the past two weeks. Shooting me was one thing. I deserved it for having shot her in Budapest months before. But she’d popped me twice in the leg while still blurry-eyed from the concussion. Her aim had been off, and one of the bullets had nicked an artery.
If Walter hadn’t been so close, I would have bled out before getting to a hospital.
Not only had I nearly died from Samara’s poor impulse control, but my collapsed lung had caused a major issue as well. I spent five days drugged up under Ryan and Anya’s command before Samara finally got over her tantrum and helped me escape. It took another day before Samara would tell me what happened to Abi after I’d lost consciousness.
She’d been angry with me, but still sane enough to know what Anya would have planned for Abi. My biological mother wanted me in her life, but she would never allow anyone to make me vulnerable. Just as she’d done with Nova, it would only be a matter of time before she wanted to begin Abi’s training. My sister couldn’t handle the thought of what she’d been put through herself happening to her dearest friend.
In her chaotic, twisted psychosis, Samara had known she wasn’t in the right mind-set to protect Abi as she needed to. With Elias injured and me in a medically induced coma, my sister had thought the best way to protect Abi was to send her away, but she wouldn’t have gone if she’d thought I was alive.
Missing Abi had been agony for me, but thinking I was dead must have been hell on earth for her.
Kicking the door closed, I grunted at the pull of shredded muscles that had been surgically repaired. Crossing to the bed, I carefully laid Abi’s head on the pillow. “Just relax for a bit. You need to rest.”
She grabbed my hand, her fingers clinging to mine as if afraid I might disappear. “All I’ve done lately is sleep. I’m so tired all the time.”
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I lifted her hand to my mouth. “Your progesterone levels are elevated because of the baby. By the second trimester, you will have more energy.”
Abi licked her lips, drawing my gaze to the nearly healed cut caused by a direct blow to her face from an elbow. If Samara hadn’t ended the motherfucker on the spot, I would have taken pleasure in hunting him down. I needed to find a pig farm if we were going to be staying closer to her parents. Pigs made disposing of bodies so much easier.
“You know about the baby?” she asked nervously.
I rubbed my free hand gently over her abdomen right above the top of her jeans. “I’m excited to watch your belly grow. This time, there will be no hiding that mark I’ve put on you.”
She huffed, lightly slapping at my arm. “Is that all you can think about, marking me?”
“Thinking of new ways to show the world you belong to me takes up at least twenty-five percent of my day,” I admitted unabashedly and was rewarded with a hint of a smile. My fingers circled her belly button. “I’ve missed out on almost two weeks, but I will make up for the lost time.”
With a gasp, she sat upright in bed, her eyes dropping to the bruise on my chest. “You were hurt! I saw you limping.” Tears spilled from her eyes, each drop a blow more powerful and painful than the one that had broken my rib, leaving me with a collapsed lung for the second time in my life. “Sammy said she shot you!”
“Nothing I didn’t deserve,” I soothed while defending my sister. “I shot her first.”
“What?” she yelped. “Did you mean to?”
It was time for me to tell her everything. Not just bits and pieces and half-truths. She deserved to know it all so she didn’t have to second-guess my motives regarding those who meant the most to me.
“Lie down, wildfire. This is going to take a while, and I want you to be comfortable.” Nudging her over, I climbed in beside her. Immediately, she slid an arm around my waist, pillowing her head on my chest. The noise that always seemed to echo in my mind calmed, my peace finally returning.
With the comforting scent of her hair in my nose, the feel of her against me, her soft fingers absently trailing over the many scars on my chest and shoulders, I gave her my past.
