Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120955 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 403(@300wpm)
Those are signs of life, as are her vitals that beep on the monitor next to her bed. Still, I feel a compulsion to watch her, a need to reassure myself. I almost got her killed. It can never happen again. The mere thought sends my mind into a tailspin and makes my insides clench into a tight ball.
Igor enters with a paper cup that he hands to me. “How is she?”
“Stable.” At least, that’s what the surgeon said. I won’t relax until she opens her eyes and tells me herself.
His rugged face softens as he looks at her. “I guess we have something in common now. Both of us took a bullet for you.”
He says it jokingly, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere, but my jaw clenches involuntarily. As I’ve just told myself, it can never happen again. I’ll make damn sure of it. Ivan Besov is no longer a threat. Stefanov is no longer around to hold a sword over my head. And since no one will dare rat me out to the authorities, I’m a free man. After the message I delivered by blowing up Vladimir’s house, nobody will fuck with me.
“Any news on Besov?” I say his name with disdain.
The way Igor’s upper lip curls tells me he feels the same about that fucker. “The body will probably wash up in the summer when the ice melts.”
I take a sip of the hospital coffee, needing the caffeine to keep alert. I haven’t slept in two days.
“Why don’t you go catch a few hours of sleep?” I tell Igor. He’s been on his feet for as long as I have. “The staff prepared a room for us. Leonid can take over.”
Rubbing his eyes, he gives me a grateful nod. “I’ll be back in four hours.”
“Take six.” He’s no good to me half asleep on his feet.
Downing what’s left of the lukewarm coffee, I crumple the cup in a fist and dump it in the trash can.
“Do you need anything?” Igor asks on his way to the door. “Dinner?”
“The nurse already offered.”
He leaves with a nod.
I turn my attention back to Katerina. She’s lucky. The bullet hit her in the fleshy part of her shoulder, and no vital organs were damaged. The surgeon said she’ll be up in a couple of days and back to normal in a few weeks. That may be so, but she’ll always carry a scar—a reminder of how close I came to losing her. I haven’t stopped beating myself up about the accident, even though we had little chance of surviving any other way. If I’d allowed Besov to drive us to his destination, overpowering him in my injured state with no weapon would’ve been suicide on my behalf and murder on Katerina’s. Rage consumes me just thinking about it.
Her eyelashes flutter. A soft moan escapes her lips.
I lean closer. “Katyusha? I’m here, my love.”
She opens her eyes. Those gorgeous honey-tinted pools are hazy until she blinks them into focus. Her voice is raspy. “Where am I?”
I pick up a glass of water from the nightstand and bring the straw to her lips. “In a private clinic in St. Petersburg.” Supporting her neck, I help her take a sip. “More?”
She licks away a drop. “I’m good.”
A wave of tenderness rushes through me. “How are you feeling?”
Her smile is faint. “High on morphine, I guess.”
“Good.” I don’t want her to suffer from pain.
“Did you find the body?”
I grind my teeth at the memory of her bleeding out in the snow on the banks of the frozen river. “No. It’ll wash up in the summer.”
Her pupils dilate even as her eyes grow large. “What then?”
“Then nothing,” I say, stressing the nothing.
Biting her lip, she gives me a pained look. “I killed him.”
I squeeze her hand in mine. “You defended our lives.” My unspoken message is clear. I don’t consider her a murderer. I won’t allow her to carry that burden. “Understand?”
The frown pleating her forehead doesn’t smooth out. “What I mean is I don’t feel bad about what I did.” She searches my face. “What does that make me, Alex?”
“Human,” I say without hesitation.
Which also means she’ll have post-traumatic stress from the events. Nightmares. Guilt trips. Anxiety attacks, maybe. No matter. I’ve already secured the best psychiatrist in New York City.
“Thank you,” she whispers, relaxing slightly as she accepts the absolution I offer.
The heaviness of the situation sinks into my chest. I’ve made her a part of my world by falling in love with her. I’ve dragged her into the filth, and there’s no going back. Not now. Not ever. She’s been mine and I’ve been hers from the moment I laid my eyes on her.
Cupping my cheek, she says in a soft voice, “We’ll get through this together. We’ll get through everything together.” Her gaze is imploring. “Okay?”