“In the office,” Anisimov’s second, Viktor stated.
Rogan followed him, Cillian close on his heels. He walked into Anisimov’s office. Anisimov was standing by his desk. His gaze rose immediately when Rogan walked in. In the corner of the room, tucked into an armchair was Sofia. Face pale, she was staring off at nothing.
“Where is she?” he growled, stepping further into the room.
“She’s in my private room.”
Anisimov had a secret room behind his office where private meetings were conducted. Rogan stepped around the large, wooden desk.
Anisimov stepped forward, grabbing his arm. Rogan growled at him, yanking his arm free from the other man’s grasp.
“The doctor is checking her over. Colm’s with her. She’s safe. I promise.”
“She should be at the hospital.”
“Can’t.” Anisimov stared at him steadily, his face giving none of his emotions away. “Sofia killed the man who attacked her.”
Christ. Rogan glanced over to where Sofia sat in an armchair, her gaze blank.
“What happened?” he asked.
“Miller was taking the trash out when she was attacked by one of the kitchen hands,” Anisimov told him. “Sofia went out to check on her, saw Dima attacking Miller and hit him with the baseball bat.”
“I keep it by the door to the alleyway,” Sofia said, still staring at nothing. “Never had to use it before but better safe than sorry.”
Aleksandr walked over to his cousin. He crouched and took hold of her hands in his. “You should have grabbed one of the men, kotyonok, not have risked yourself.”
Sofia turned her head to look at her cousin. “I wasn’t thinking. I just had to help Miller. He was hurting her.” Finally, she looked up at Rogan. Her eyes were wide, filled with horror.
“He’s dead?” Rogan reiterated, not sure if that was relief or disappointment he felt. He wanted to kill the bastard himself. But perhaps it was better he was dead, because he wouldn’t have stopped until he found him. No matter who he had to destroy along the way.
Nobody knew the depth of his feelings for Miller. He hadn’t even acknowledged to himself how much he needed her.
Need was a scary thing. Especially when the thing you needed the most could be so easily taken from you.
The door to the back room opened and a dark-haired man carrying a black bag in his right hand stepped through. The doctor. Rogan guessed he was Anisimov’s payroll.
His guess was confirmed when the man looked immediately to Anisimov.
“How is she?” Aleksandr asked.
“A few bruises and scratches. She’s dizzy and dazed so I would say she has a slight concussion. I will give you a list of symptoms to watch out for. If she develops any of these symptoms, she needs emergency care.” The doctor handed over a hastily scrawled list. “I’m more worried about the trauma of being attacked. She’s calm now, but I doubt that will last. She’ll need looking after.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her,” Rogan vowed.
Brushing past the doctor, he saw her standing with Colm hovering over her. The bodyguard was frowning down at her.
“Miller, let me help you,” Colm insisted.
“I’m fine. I can walk on my own.”
They both glanced up as he stepped into the room. Miller’s clothes were torn and dirty, her hair was a mess and he could see the beginning of a bruise around one eye.
Fury filled him at the thought of someone hurting her, terrifying her. Unable to speak, he nodded at Colm who immediately left. Rogan moved closer, studying her for any sign of fear. But she mostly looked tired.
“Rogan, I knew you’d come.”
She stepped forward, and surprising him, wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.
He gently held her, breathing in her scent.
“Of course I came. I’ll always come for you, Miller.”
Chapter Five
Miller stirred, opening her eyes. Panic filled her. Where was she? Her head throbbed as she tried to move, and she took a gasping breath then let out a loud moan.
“Miller? Can you hear me? You’re safe. You’re safe.”
She wasn’t alone. A shadow loomed over her and she let out a screech, trying to scoot backward. Pain swamped her, making her stomach lurch.
“Hey, easy, baby. It’s me, Rogan. Shh, you’re fine. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Rogan. Oh God, it was Rogan.
A light switched on and she blinked until she could clearly see his concerned face.
“Rogan, sorry. I just…I was confused.” She placed a hand on her pounding head. “Umm, why are you in my bedroom?”
“The doctor said you have a slight concussion. I didn’t want to leave you.”
That would explain the wrecking ball in her brain. But how did she get…oh shit. It came rushing back. Dima cornering her by the dumpster, lunging for her. He’d attacked her. Would have raped her…if Sofia hadn’t hit him with the baseball bat.
“Oh God.” A shiver racked her body and she slowly sat, drawing her legs against her chest. “How did I get here? I don’t remember.”
“You fell asleep in the car. I carried you up here.”
She glanced down at herself. She was still in the same clothes.
“I thought it might freak you out if you woke up to find me undressing you.”
“I need a shower.”
She needed to get out of these clothes. They were a reminder of what had happened.
Rogan stood. “I’ll run you a bath. You might fall in the shower.”
“Is the concussion bad?” She seemed to recall a doctor checking her over but couldn’t remember what he’d said.
“No, a mild one. But the doctor said to keep an eye on you.”
And that was like waving a red flag in front of someone as protective as Rogan. She’d be lucky if she got to leave her bed for the next week.
“Is Sofia all right?” The other woman had gone into shock. She had barely said a word after she’d smacked Dima with the bat.
“Sofia will be fine.”
“Dima?”
“Don’t worry about him.” Rogan’s voice was dark. Cold. What had he done?”
“Rogan? You didn’t do anything to him, did you?”
“Sofia killed him.”
“Oh my God.” Sofia was so sweet and gentle. How would she cope with having killed someone? “Do I need to speak to the police? She was defending me. Do I need to give them a statement? They didn’t arrest her, did they?”
She’d never forgive herself if Sofia got in trouble for helping her.
“The cops weren’t called. Anisimov took care of everything.”
She swallowed heavily. Yeah, if anyone could make a body disappear, it would be the scary Russian.
“I’ll get that bath ready for you. Do you need some painkillers?”
“Yes, please.”
Rogan handed her some painkillers and a glass of water before moving into the bathroom.
Miller glanced down at her shaking hands, watching as the water in the glass sloshed around. What was wrong with her? Why was she trembling?
Tears blurred her vision. She could feel him touching her, smell the garlic on his putrid breath. Why hadn’t she fought harder?
Why hadn’t she left the rubbish for someone else to take out?
“Miller? What is it? You’re crying.”
Rogan sat next to her and drew her gently against his chest, holding her. “Shh, a thaisce. Shh.”
“Why does everything I touch turn to shit?” She sobbed. “I just wanted to get on with my life. To try to put everything behind me. I had one week of feeling kind of normal then this happens!”
“The attack wasn’t your fault. Everything you touch does not turn to shit. He was the piece of shit and he deserved everything he got.”
“Sofia didn’t, though. She was protecting me and now she has to live with his death.”
“Don’t worry abou
t Sofia. She’s tougher than she looks. Her father used to run the mob before Anisimov took over. Ivan raised Sofia on his own since she was a baby. Sofia knows the score. She did what she had to.”
“Guess that’s why we get on so well. We probably had similar childhoods.”
Rogan shook his head. “Sofia was the apple of Ivan’s eye. Nobody dared hurt a hair on that girl’s head while he was alive. Aleksandr is his nephew. He took him in when he was fourteen. Aleksandr and Sofia are as close as brother and sister and Aleksandr is as protective of her as Ivan was. Sofia had the best of everything, including her father and Aleksandr’s full attention.”
Well, maybe they didn’t have that much in common after all.
“Are you sure you’re up for a bath?”
“I need one. I can feel his touch.” She shuddered.
“You should never have been in that alley alone.”
“Please don’t scold me right now, Rogan. I feel stupid enough as it is.”
“Sorry. You’re right.” Moving back, he cupped her face between his hands. “Did he? I mean, your pants were still on…” He turned away, his jaw clenched.
Miller placed her hand on his cheek, turning his face back. “He hit me, tried to kiss me and he-he touched me, but it didn’t go further.”
Letting out a deep breath, he nodded.
Miller laughed. “Guess I’ll have a new round of issues to talk to my therapist about.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why are you sorry?” she asked curiously.
“I should have protected you better.”
“Rogan, you had Colm drive me there and back. He sat in the restaurant night after night. What more could you have done? Besides, it’s not up to you to protect me.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Why?”
Leaning in, he kissed her gently, his lips lightly touching hers, searching for a response. Miller melted beneath him, opening her mouth beneath his. His tongue slipped through, exploring, tasting, savoring.
Warmth filled her. Miller’s body tingled, sang. She ran her fingers through his thick hair. It was softer than she’d imagined.
Then he pressed her back against the bed, looming over her. Panic stole her breath and she stiffened.
Rogan pulled back immediately, staring down at her in consternation. “Miller, you’re okay. Just breathe in and out. Christ, what the hell am I thinking? You’ve just been attacked and here I am, mauling you.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it a mauling,” she told him, wishing her voice didn’t sound so shaky.
“Just lie there and try to relax. I’ll go check on your bath.” Turning, he strode off.
Miller cursed herself silently. She’d finally gotten close to him. He had actually kissed her and then she went and ruined it all with a damn panic attack.
She tried to remind herself why this wasn’t a good idea. She didn’t want a man like her father.
Except she knew Rogan was nothing like her dad. Anyone he loved would be cherished, protected, loved. He would never abandon someone he loved.
But could he ever love her?
What the hell had he been thinking? Rogan paced back and forth across Miller’s bedroom. His cock pressed tight against his pants, protesting the tight confines.
Fuck, was he a goddamn masochist? He had to be. He should leave now before things went beyond a kiss. He would assign one of his men to watch over her.
He clenched his hands at the thought of someone else in her bedroom, watching over her while she slept. He growled. Nope, that wasn’t happening.
A nurse, then. He should hire a nurse to take care of her.
Miller would hate that. And, right now, Miller’s comfort was at the top of his priority list. Right up there with her safety.
If Sofia hadn’t killed that bastard, he would have murdered him with his bare hands.
Rogan leaned his forehead against the wall, trying desperately to ignore the pain in his throbbing balls. Hearing the splashes from in the bathroom as she bathed didn’t help his raging need any.
Right now, she could be washing over those long, slim limbs, her breasts, her belly, her pussy.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He had to get control over himself. This wasn’t him.
“Rogan?” she called out.
Standing, he moved to the door. “Are you all right? Do you need me?”
“I’m fine. But if you need to go… I mean, I know you have to work.”
Abandon her when she needed him? Like everyone else in her life?
Hell no.
“I’m right here. Everything else can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m right here. Everything else can wait. I’m not going anywhere.”
Those words rolled around in her head as she climbed out of the bath. A dizzy spell hit her and she clasped hold of the bathroom counter until it passed. Grabbing the sleeveless tank top, she wore as a nightie, Miller pulled it over her head. She longed to brush her teeth and hair, but she didn’t think she could manage much more without falling over.
She touched her lips. They still tingled from his kiss. He’d kissed her. What did that mean? Did he want her? Or had it been nothing more than a kiss?
Was Natalya right? Did he want her?
Well if he had she’d probably just ruined it by going all crazy on him.
“I’m decent,” she called out.
Rogan was there in a second, wrapping his arm around her waist. “You look like death warmed over.”
“Stop,” she said weakly. “Your flattery is going to my head.”
“I knew a bath was a bad idea,” he muttered as he gently swung her up into his arms and carried her back into the bedroom. He set her on the bed then tucked her in.
“I had to. I needed to wash off his touch.”
He moved back and she grabbed his hand.
“Miller?”
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me.” God, she sounded so desperate. But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t be alone right now.
“Baby, nothing would make me leave you right now. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”
And Rogan never broke his promises.
“I’m sorry, about before. I know that you wouldn’t hurt me, but I just—”
“Shh.” He placed a finger over her lips. “I don’t want to hear you apologize again, understand? If anyone should apologize, it’s me. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since you were attacked, Miller. I should never have tried to kiss you.”
“It wasn’t the kiss. I enjoyed the kiss. It was just, when you were kind of looming over me, I felt, well…”
“Suffocated?” he guessed. “It’s all right, Miller. I understand.”
She relaxed back against the bed. “I’m fine you know. Really.”
“Not yet. But you will be. Go to sleep, a thaisce. I’ll be right here. All night.”
***
“Rogan? Couldn’t you sleep?”
Rogan turned to see Miller walking towards him, dressed just in a long T-shirt. He glanced at his watch. It was one in the morning. He took a last sip of his whiskey. He’d been sitting here in his study, nursing a whiskey, hoping it would help quiet his mind so he could sleep. It felt like he hadn’t slept properly since Miller had been attacked a week ago.
“I can go. Leave you in peace,” she offered when he didn’t answer.
“Wait,” he called out.
She paused at the door, turning, a mixture of wariness and hope on her face.
“Come and sit down. Couldn’t you sleep?” he asked her.
She shook her head and took the seat opposite him. “No. Thought I’d go get some milk.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. He could tell she wanted to ask him something.
“How are you feeling? Any more headaches?” he asked.
She’d had a few of them since Dima had knocked her in the head. His hand tightened around the glass he held as fury filled him. It was going to t
ake him a long time to get over her attack.
Miller let out a deep breath, glaring at him. “I’m tired.”
He stood. “I’ll get you some milk.” She had bags under her eyes. She needed some sleep. Maybe he should take her to the doctor, get some sedatives.
“No, I’m not physically tired.” She stood in his way, staring up at him. “I’m tired of being treated like glass. I’m not going to break, Rogan.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because every time I’ve seen you in the last week, which hasn’t been that often, all you’ve done is ask me if I feel all right. And if I need something. Well, I do need something.”
“What?”
“You.”
He gaped down at her like an idiot. She hadn’t just said that, had she?
“If you’ve been avoiding me for the last week because you hated that kiss and you don’t know how to tell me that you don’t want me then just walk past me, go to your bedroom and we’ll forget this conversation ever happened. But if you want me like I want you then kiss me, damn it.”
Her words were tough, but he could see a glimpse of vulnerability in her gaze, in the way she’d hunched her shoulders as though expecting him to reject her.
He could never reject her.
“I want you,” he told her.
Her eyes flared and she took a step towards him. Rogan held a hand up to still her. “But I won’t do anything to scare you. It’s only been a week. You need to recover.”
“What I need is for you to take me to bed and fuck me. I’ve talked it all through with my therapist and yeah, I’ve had a few bad moments since I was attacked. But the bastard is dead. He can’t hurt me. So kiss me.”
He stared at her lips, wanting her desperately.
“It’s not easy for me to ask and if you turn me down, then I’ll have to find some hole to crawl into and die of embarrassment. I want you. I need you. You won’t hurt me or scare me. I need to be touched. Please don’t make me beg.”
Unable to resist her—he was no saint—he leaned in and kissed her.
“You’re sure?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Lifting her up into his arms, he moved out of the room to the stairs.
“Wow, you can move fast when you’re motivated,” she said with a grin.
Redemption (Cavan Gang #2) Page 7