Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Too confused to continue fighting, I wiggle to be placed down. When Alek does as asked, albeit hesitantly, I shift on my feet to seek answers from a face I can read like a book.
He’s sending me away, isn’t he? That’s why he’s packing my things.
I realize how wrong I am when he answers my unvoiced questions, “I’m not letting you go again, драгоценный. I shouldn’t have then, and I am not again now.”
Something so heartfelt should have a more deserving reply, but with my heart and head at crossroads, I murmur, “Okay,” before stepping aside so Alek’s men can do as asked.
Twenty minutes later, my father is bundled into a car on the most direct route to the airport, and I’m sitting on the passenger seat of Alek’s car that’s flanked by another four SUVs just as large, being driven into the Bobrov compound.
I’ve never been here before. It was being built along with the rebuilding of the cargo ship the Bobrovs use for shipments. It is awe-inspiring but a little scary.
“Take her bags to my room.”
I peer at Alek with concern when his barked demand comes out a little groggy. I’ve scanned his body for injuries a hundred times in the past twenty minutes. Other than bruised knuckles and a graze down his right forearm, he is relatively unscathed.
“What’s wrong?”
He screws up his nose before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
When he stumbles forward at a rate too fast for me to catch him, I brace him against the hood of his flashy ride before shouting for Yev to help me.
“What’s wrong with him?”
As Yev struggles to keep him upright, I race for the bag his vehicles are never without.
“Where the fuck are you?” I mutter to myself when I cannot find his medication bag.
“What are you looking for?” Yev asks when I toss stuff out of the glove box like I found a pair of dirty knickers in my husband’s nightstand.
“His medication. He usually keeps it in a black beauty bag.”
“With silver stripes?”
I sling my head to Yev before nodding.
“Back passenger side pocket. I noticed it last month. Gave him shit about the fancy label on his designer tote bag.”
My heart stops threatening to break out of my chest when I find Alek’s medication. “I need you to hold his head back.” When Alek groans through the pain no doubt rocketing through his body, I murmur, “I’m sorry, baby, but you need to swallow this before your brain explodes.” I place a dissolvable tablet under his tongue before stuffing a second one to the very back of his throat. He gags when I stuff my fingers in deep, but it means only the littlest bit of water needs to trickle down his throat to sink the tablets into his bloodstream.
I can tell the instant the first tablet takes effect as Alek pushes Yev off him as if he isn’t the sole reason he didn’t kiss the pavement before he shifts his groggy eyes to me. He looks exhausted, both physically and mentally, and it breaks my heart.
“It’s okay, baby,” I murmur when he leans into my embrace instead of helming it. “You can rest now.”
14
ALEK
Blood and recently fired ammunition are pushed out of my nostril cavities when another scent takes hold. It smells fresh and alive, unlike the scenes of death that plagued my head while I slept off the migraine that almost knocked me on my ass. I was fighting it by guzzling water during the last couple of rounds of Ana’s poker tournament, but I didn’t get the chance to take my medication. It makes me groggy as fuck and incapable of protecting Ana, so I tend not to take it when tension is high.
I pay for it tenfold within hours, but since it was hours after getting Andrei away from the men holding him captive, I’ll take it as a win.
“How long have I been out?” My voice is husky and sounds as raw as my throat feels.
Ana spins to face me. Her cheeks are ashen, and she looks like she didn’t sleep a wink. “Around eight hours.” She slips off the large recliner in the corner of my room, puts down a sketchpad, then stalks toward my bed. “You started getting a little grabby only a couple of hours in, so I moved to the couch so you could rest properly.”
Her laugh when I yank her on top of me should be piercing to my ears after another episode, but it’s been so long since I’ve heard it I relish it. “You could have woken me. I wouldn’t have minded.”
After rolling over and balancing her chin on her hands splayed across my pecs, she mutters, “I wasn’t sure if the sheets were clean. And you know how anal I am about that.”
I laugh. It kills my chest and head, but it can’t be helped. Ana was obsessed with cleaning our sheets. So much so, I had planned to buy her a pair for every day of the week so she wouldn’t cart them downstairs like her winter coats.