Total pages in book: 187
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 177397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 887(@200wpm)___ 710(@250wpm)___ 591(@300wpm)
“Whoa. Hold on, Sunshine,” a familiar voice murmurs when my hand shoots for the letter opener I took with me for my safety, and I stab it wildly through the air.
After stepping out of the shadows enough to display his eyes, Mikhail says, “If you think I’m here to hurt you, you’re barking up the wrong tree.”
“I’m not worried about me.”
His eyes shoot down to my stomach before they return to my face. “I’m not going to hurt your baby, either. I’m not a complete fucking psycho.”
“After the way you reacted to our kiss, I’m going to hold my verdict until I’ve done some thorough research.” When he looks ill, bewilderment overtakes my fear that he followed me here to force me back to Andrik’s chop-shop doctor. “Seriously! It was the equivalent of a kindergarten schoolyard peck. I’ve gotten more action from Grampies. If I had a father, it would have been like kissing him.”
“What about a brother?” Mikhail says, his cheeks suddenly full of color again. “Would it have been like kissing your brother?”
“Yes! It was the equivalent of kissing my nonexistent brother. Happy?”
“Very,” he murmurs, winking. “Though I’d rather in the future if we keep our greetings to cheek kisses. I’m still a little traumatized.”
I stare at him, mute and confused. What the hell is he on about?
“I’d love to horrify you like all big bros should, but we don’t have time.” My heart gains an extra beat when he murmurs, “Zakhar is getting a new heart.” He checks his watch for the time. “From the last update I got, it’s probably pattering in his chest right now.” He moves for a blacked-out SUV parked a few spots up before spinning to face me. “Are you coming?”
I almost nod.
Almost.
Mikhail balks when I shake my head. “Why the fuck not?”
“Because your brother doesn’t have any issues killing babies.”
He appears lost—for half a second.
“Send it to me.” After nodding to whoever has him talking to himself like a mental patient, he heads my way while removing his phone from his pocket. “Take this as a lesson on snooping. If you don’t stay to get the whole story, you may as well not snoop.”
He plays a video that makes my blood boil… until it reaches the end.
“Is that something you’re considering?”
“No,” Andrik answers, loosening the valve in my chest. “I was just curious.”
Mikhail stops the video before it officially ends and then demands another. “Now play the one from earlier you told me about.” I can’t hear what his imaginary friend replies, but it pisses him off. The veins in his hand bulge as he works his jaw side to side. “I’ll deal with Andrik. Just play it.”
This one is from the same camera used to spy on Andrik and Dr. Leverington, but it only shows Andrik’s bedroom door.
I lean in close when a faint roar sounds from the speaker of Mikhail’s phone. It’s soft but undeniable. Andrik is chastising himself. If the faucet shutting off seconds into the footage is anything to go by, it was seconds before I lost my dinner in the downstairs bathroom.
I refuse to let my heart get ahead of itself, though. “Maybe he was angry his only source of relief was his hand.”
Mikhail laughs.
He. Fucking. Laughs.
Asshole.
“Mikhail—”
“Don’t Mikhail me. I’ve waited years for this. Let me relish it for a couple of seconds.” He sees I’m confused but does nothing to alleviate it. “Come on.” He nudges his head to the hanging-open car door. “I’ll fill you in on everything I know during the drive home.”
I hate how stubborn I am, but it isn’t solely my wants I need to consider now. “I don’t think—”
“If you want answers, Sunshine, you need to trust me.” He twists around to face me, flashing both his dimples and his kind eyes. “You trust me, right?”
I shouldn’t, but I nod.
He grins at my grumble as I slowly trudge toward his SUV.
I’m bombarded for the second time three steps later.
Mara looks as if she’s seen a ghost, but her focus is on me instead of Mikhail.
“Your fr-friend works at Myasnikov Private Hospital, right?”
I nod, too panicked by the worry in her tone for a worded response or to chastise her for walking the streets alone this late. It is almost dawn.
“What does s-she look like?”
“Brown hair, around this tall.”
I hold my hand an inch above my head as Mikhail thrusts his phone into Mara’s face. “Like this.”
“Th-that’s her,” Mara shouts, her voice bellowing through the alleyway. “I saw her earlier. She was at our bus s-stop, dazed and confused.” My heart pains for her when she says, “I was hesitant to help because of the r-ruse they’d pull.” The person who assaulted Mara months ago used the I’m-hurt ruse. As she bobbed down to help him, he launched upward with his fists. “She wasn’t well. I-I think she was drugged. I tr-tried to call you, but I don’t have your number.”