Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“Let’s leave.” He ushers me to the back seat and two of his guards get in the front.
Adrian keeps his arms around me during the entire ride home. The stupid tears won’t stop coming and I keep shivering like a leaf in winter.
He removes his jacket and wraps it over my bloodied coat, but that doesn’t ease the ache I’m feeling deep in my chest.
I’m crying, but it’s not only about Yan. I’m also crying because I think I know that man, the shadow, the one who said I had a mission.
And something tells me this mission is more dangerous than I could ever imagine.
26
Winter
I suck in my first real breath when the doctor says that Yan will survive.
He lost a lot of blood and he’s still unconscious, but there’s no immediate threat to his life.
Those words tear into my chest and lodge against my heart with a force that robs me of balance. I grab Adrian’s arm and anchor myself as we stand in the middle of Yan’s room that’s located in the guest house, the place Adrian never allowed me in before now.
He’s on his back, chest bandaged, no more blood leaving his body, but he’s not opening his eyes either. His pretty model face is pasty pale and his lips are chapped.
Kolya is by his side, checking his temperature just as the doctor showed him. I don’t miss that they have an onsite doctor, or that he didn’t ask any questions about why he had to treat a gunshot patient in Adrian’s house.
He just nodded and left as if this were an everyday occurrence.
It probably is.
“How is his temperature?” I ask Kolya as he stares at the device in his hand.
The room is plain, with a bed in the middle and a closet in the corner. The only light comes from the lamp on the nightstand, casting dark shadows across Yan’s pale face.
“It’s high, but not alarming.” Kolya straightens, and even though his usual scowl is strapped in place, there’s a subtle wariness in his posture. “I’ll make sure it goes down through the night.”
I take a step forward. “I’ll stay, too.”
“No.” Adrian grabs me by the elbow and pulls me back. “You did your part. Leave it to Kolya now.”
“He’s right, Mrs. Volkov. Thank you for everything you’ve done. If you hadn’t carried him or tried to stop his bleeding, he wouldn’t have made it.” Kolya offers what resembles a smile. He’s just like his boss in that department. They could use a lesson or two from the lively Yan.
“It was nothing.”
I want to stay and watch over Yan, but Adrian carries me in his arms and leaves the guest house, heading to the main one. He’s been doing it since earlier because I have no shoes on, and I’m thankful because my legs can’t carry me properly. My hands inside my bloodied gloves rest on my lap and I try not to get caught up in the sight of them and recall what happened to Yan.
“Hold on to me, Lia,” Adrian says sternly.
“They’re bloodied.”
“Do I look like I care?”
He doesn’t, but I do. Even as I wrap my arms around his neck, I try to keep the gloves away. I don’t want to get blood on him.
There shouldn’t be any blood near him.
As soon as we’re inside the room, I squirm so he’ll let me go. In the bright light, I can see the crimson on my gloves, all over my coat, and down my dress. It’s everywhere, like a second skin.
Adrian lowers me to my feet and I scoot away. He clicks the door shut, and when he advances toward me, his eyes are hooded, dark, as if they’re brewing a storm or a volcano or both.
His white tuxedo shirt has smudges of blood on it. There’s some on his forehead, too. I don’t like it. I don’t want it on him and I hate that I’m the reason it’s there.
There really shouldn’t be blood on him.
I frown. That’s the second time I’ve had that thought in a few seconds. I have no clue why I’m plagued by that, but I know that I can’t see the crimson color on him. It tugs on a dark part of me where that black box I was trapped in exists.
“I… I’m going to take a shower.” I slip past him to the door. “I’ll do it in one of the other rooms.”
My hand is on the doorknob when his body flattens mine from behind, his hard muscles and tall build dwarfing my smaller frame. His palm covers my bloodied gloves over the doorknob as he whispers against the shell of my ear, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Shower…” My voice is low, breathy, and sounds insincere because showering is actually the last thing I want to do right now.