It must have worked, because when she was thrown out of her moment of temporary peace by a scene of her trapped in a metal coffin, the room was dark and filled by the jagged gulps of her own breaths. Everything was still, that sort of silence that came from being surrounded by sick people. Occasionally, it was broken by a scuffle of feet or the low drone of someone being paged over the speakers, but it was all muffled in her room. Someone had shut the door and snapped down the blinds. Her room was a murky black softened only by a few slivers of light that had found their way through the gaps in the pleated shades over the window. But despite the darkness, she felt him, felt his warm presence. She didn’t even need to turn her head and he was already there, putting a dent in the flimsy mattress as he leaned in to pull her into his arms.
They circled her without so much as a murmur. Their strength enveloped her, enclosing her like a blanket on a winter’s night. His body settled into the curve of her back, fitting perfectly so there wasn’t even a centimeter of space between them. Then he was settled, taking up most of the space, but he was there, anchoring her to reality, which was that she was here with him, not there in that box with its smell and echoing sounds. His warm breath rolled and receded over the shell of her ear and along the side of her face. His chest rose and fell with it along her spine. His heart pattered, strong and consistent against her shoulder blade.
“I’m here, myshka.”
It was all she needed. Three little words and the demons gnawing on her soul dissipated. The world around her calmed. Her muscles relaxed, and when she shut her eyes again, there was nothing waiting for her behind her eyelids.
He was gone when she opened her eyes again. The space behind her was void of his warmth. The weight of his arm was missing from around her middle. She could no longer hear the whisper of his breath. And she lay there, trying to drag it all back around her, to imagine him there again, but it didn’t happen. Instead, she turned onto her back, not at all surprised to find Frank in his seat once more, a new magazine in hand.
“They brought you breakfast again,” he said without glancing up. “They suggest you eat since you didn’t yesterday.”
Ava glanced at the tray on the table at the foot of the bed. “I’m not really hungry for boiled eggs, to be honest.”
A page was flipped. “You might like it.”
Not sure what there was to like about cold toast and even colder coffee, but she crawled to the foot of the bed, careful not to pull out her IV, and peeled off the lid. She stared at the bowl of mixed fruit, the plastic fork, croissant and still warm coffee next to a note that read, I think they’re trying to poison you into staying longer. Also, you owe me. I almost lost an arm. -D
“What happened?” she asked the stoic man behind her.
Frank peered at her over the edge of the magazine. “Mr. Tasarov was very insistent they not try to feed you anymore.”
She tried to work that out in her head, but couldn’t. She made a mental note to ask Dimitri herself later.
“Where is he?”
Dark eyes went back to the pages. “He’s been momentarily called away, but asked me to assure you that he will be back before lunch.”
She was finishing off her fruit bowl when the doctor came in, clipboard in hand. It wasn’t Doctor Allen or the doctor from the previous day. This one was younger with a floppy mop of blond hair and bright, happy eyes behind gold wired glasses. He had the bounce of someone fresh out of medical school, someone who hadn’t yet been worn down by the grimness of the job.
Ava liked him. All the doctors had been nice, but it was nice to see a real smile for a change.
“Hi, I’m Doctor Wright. How are you feeling?” He caught sight of her breakfast and his grin broadened. “I see you managed to avoid the oatmeal.”
Ava laughed. “Is that what it was?”
Dimitri hated oatmeal. It was the one thing she could never get him to try, not even a spoonful. His note almost made sense now.
“Believe me, you dodged a bullet,” Doctor Wright murmured, rolling his eyes. “So, what do you say we do a quick checkup and see about getting you on your way?”
Ava was all for that. She nudged aside her half eaten breakfast and waited patiently for him to begin.
He talked while he checked her over. It was all routine, but he asked if she wanted Frank in the room. One glance at Frank told her very clearly he wasn’t leaving, even if she did need to strip naked, which thankfully, she didn’t.
“Well, you seem fine,” Doctor Wright went on when it was over. “I have most of your test results from yesterday here and they all seem to be in order. Your blood pressure’s a bit high, your iron a bit down, but those are things we can work on. I’ll write you a prescription for folic acid and I have a pamphlet on how to lower your blood pressure. It’s mostly about keeping active, eating properly, and not stressing too much.”
It was a challenge not to bark a laugh at the latter, but she maintained her amusement, mostly anxious to get going.
“Am I okay to leave?” Ava asked, unable to keep the hope from her voice.
Doctor Wright chuckled. “I don’t see why not. I’ll have the release forms ready in a bit here…” He scribbled something quickly on his clipboard. He set it aside and reached for the hand with the IV needle. “Let’s get this out, then you can be on your way.”
Ava thanked him five or six times once the rod and fluid pouch were detached from her body. Then she sprinted to the chair with her clothes the moment he was gone and snatched them up to her chest. She turned and grinned broadly at the giant looming in the corner.
“Would it be all right if we go to my apartment real quick? Real quick,” she insisted. “I just really need to get a few things and … I haven’t been there in so long, I just … I need to smell my own things, does that make sense? Please?”
Frank seemed to hesitate. He peered at her like he was trying to determine if this was a trick of some kind.
“Please,” she said again, lowering her voice. “I will be so fast, it won’t even feel like we went.”
He sighed. “I will have to confirm with Mr. Tasarov.”
It was her turn to hesitate, but if that was the only way … she nodded. “Thank you.”
She washed up and dressed in the bathroom. No one had thought to bring her a toothbrush, but she rinsed her mouth the best she could and returned just as the nurse on duty arrived with her release form.
The world outside the stifled, recycled air of the hospital was incredible. Everything was brighter than it had seemed inside. The sun was warmer. She stood a moment, basking in it, allowing the warm breeze sweep along her skin and back into hair that needed a washing. She made a list and put that at the top: shower, followed by, fresh, clean clothes. It was amazing how much she’d taken such simple things for granted until she was begging a complete stranger to let her have them.
She pushed the depressing thought aside and focused on getting the day started. It was already late afternoon and John Paul expected her back at the manor the moment she was out of the hospital and she couldn’t argue it. She wanted to be back as well. Honestly, she never wanted to leave again, not until Elena had been captured and put away or dead, whichever came first. She didn’t even feel bad about thinking it. John Paul was right the night before, this wasn’t on Ava. All those deaths were on the person who hired those men to open fire at a group of people enjoying their afternoon. Ava wouldn’t burden that guilt. She already had too many of her own, legitimate ones that required deeper thought once she had a moment to sit and think properly.
Frank took a cab with her to her apartment. They had to make a detour to Ed’s office for a spare key to replace the one Ava lost at some point between being kidnapped by Dimitri and having his hideaway blown up. She lost a lot of things, she realized later as they walked the cream and gold corridor to the sprawling main entrance at the back of the complex. Ivory columns guarded the oval chamber with its row of diamond patterned glass and gold trim. Everything g
leamed, a stubborn polish that reflected every bit of light that came through to a blinding sheen. Ava hated walking through there. The unrestricted radiance made her head thrum.
Ed, in his thousand-dollar suit of white cream and hundred-dollar haircut, rose from behind his solid marble desk with a flourish even Ava couldn’t pull off. He fastened the front of his blazer over the soft, lilac purple of his dress shirt and the light caught the square diamond on his varsity ring.
“Ava!” He burned through their retinas with his toothpaste commercial smile, which she could have sworn was whiter since the last time she’d seen him, or his tan was darker. She couldn’t be sure. “We were beginning to worry about you.” He stalked towards them, his brown loafers clicking on the marble. “There was no news that you were back.”
Ava offered him a smile, even as he extended her his smooth, manicured hand. “It’s been a long few days, but I was hoping I could use the spare key to get into my apartment. I seem to have misplaced mine.”
Ed beamed. “Of course.”
He motioned her to follow him back to his desk. Ava didn’t. Her head was beginning to feel like Swiss cheese just standing there. Any closer and the lights might just kill her.
Ed rifled through one of the top drawers of his desk and unearthed a clump of keys as bright and polished as his office. He flipped through several before finding the one he was looking for. He held it up in triumph.
“Here we are.”
It looked like all the other keys on the ring. She couldn’t fathom how he was able to tell them apart, but he seemed confident in his selection as he walked back to them.
He was right in front of her when he seemed to notice Frank hovering right behind her. The man was six-four and built like an ox. How he could ever be missed was beyond her.
“Oh,” Ed said with a startled little blink of his silvery eyes. “Who’s your friend, Ava?”
She had no idea why it was any of his business who she brought up to her apartment, but she answered anyway.
“This is Frank.”
Smelling money and the scent of fresh meat, Ed moved in for the kill, forgetting to give her the keys.
“Pleasure!” He offered Frank a hand. “Ed Cummings, gatekeeper of this fine establishment. Are you looking to buy at all?”
Frank stared at him with that bland expression he was so fond of. “No.”
Ed’s face drooped a little. “We have some excellent prices for all the amenities we have to offer. Gym, sauna, Olympic-sized swimming pool, tennis court, basketball court, and so much more, and our residents are welcome to use all of them twenty-four hours. We even have our own restaurant dedicated entirely to serving our—”
“No.”
Ed visibly deflated, but quickly caught himself and the extravagant smile returned. “If you change your mind.” A card was produced seemingly out of nowhere with just a flick of his wrist. Ava suspected he had a stash of them tucked up his sleeve, but could never prove it, nor did she really care. “I’m available twenty-four hours, all week.”
Frank took the card. Ava guessed to shut the man up.
“Ed,” Ava interrupted. “The key, please?”
Ed jerked a little and spun around to face her, keys jingling. “Right.” He chuckled. “Here you are. Please bring it back when you’re finished. I’ll have another set made for you by tonight. Does that work for you?”
Ava assured him it would, took the offered set and hurried out with Frank right on her heels. They returned to the main area of the building and stopped before a row of gold elevators. She hit the button and waited while the numbers above the door flicked downward one by one. From the corner of her eye, she caught Frank tossing the card into a nearby trash bin and bit back a snicker.
Ed was an amazing business man. He owned several lavish, high end condo buildings that had waiting lists four decades long. He knew just what needed to be said to lure clients in and wring them for every penny. But he lacked modesty. Ava mused he could probably afford to go without. But he hadn’t been there when Ava had bought her apartment. The place had been owned by a sweet old man who sold it and retired to Florida. Ed bought it and everyone on the list. She’d considered selling and moving to something less … grand, but it had never been a priority. It still really wasn’t.
The elevator arrived and they boarded. She selected her floor and watched as the doors closed and the gears began to crank. Higher and higher it went, lifting well over the twenties and thirties. It bypassed the forties and fifties. The building only had seventy floors, but hers arrived at sixty-two. When she’d first looked at the place, there had been a slot open on the seventieth, and she’d looked at it, but the view had made her queasy. Strange considering she was only eight floors down and it was fine.
“I won’t be long,” she promised Frank, quickening her strides along the thick, comfortable carpets. “There’s a TV and food in the fridge if you’d like to make yourself a snack. I’m just going to grab a quick shower and some change of clothes.”
They arrived at her door and Ava quickly inserted the key. She turned it, heard the tumbler give and slide back from the frame. It snapped its release. Her fingers curled around the doorknob. She twisted, heard a secondary click…
“Get down!”
Frank’s entire bulk slammed into her before she even had time to suck in a breath. It crashed into her with the force of a small car and she went flying sideways and hitting the ground with a shattering thump that sang up her entire body with a razor blade of pain. But there was no time to cry out, and if she did, it was swallowed by the whoosh and the bang of her entire world erupting in a fiery explosion.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Christ, the pain.
Dimitri fought not to shift in the stiff, leather seat Penny had selected specifically for him at the head of an onyx cut into a long drooping oval. The hinges gave an undignified squeak anyway. In the commotion, it was barely heard.
War.
It was the only way to consider the chaos unfolding before him. It was far more tamed compared to the one of the previous day, but he needed to get a hold on it before it escalated.
“Everyone, sit down!”
He would have slammed his palms on the table, but the pain in his side was still too fresh. The skin was too raw around the stitches. Even breathing made his eyes want to cross.
It had been a cheap shot meant for someone else that Dimitri got in the path of. It hadn’t been a deliberate gesture, but it had won him a favor with the Panthers and he considered that mild success.
The room quieted, gradually, a slow descent of noise until it was just the shuffle of bodies and chairs being dragged back to the table. Grown men glowered at each other all up and down the glass, now smudged with handprints and speckles of blood. Dimitri could only stare at it and shake his head.
“What is the matter with you?” he said out loud, trying to look each person in the face when he spoke. “We are one territory. Our job is to have each other’s backs and fight against those trying to come into our sector. Not this.”
He nudged back his chair, ignored the pang in his side and started down the mahogany paneled office.
The conference room was just a small area of an enormous business structure. Penny had somehow found and bought the biggest building in the north and turned it—overnight—into his place of command. He didn’t even know what the building had been before he’d taken over, but there were giant printers and fax machines edged into corners and cubicles and boxes of packed files piled into rooms. He’d made a mental note to ask Penny when they’d arrived for the initial meeting yesterday, but then he’d been stabbed and the question had left his mind.
What a nightmare, he thought miserably. An all-out brawl had not been how he’d wanted to introduce his new leadership to the lower clans. It certainly hadn’t been how he’d wanted to ruin his first ever suit. The whole thing had been a disaster from the start.
From the moment he’d walked into the offic
e and into the throng of over fifty of the city’s worst criminals, he had known the whole situation hadn’t been thought out properly. For one, he should have had every one disarm. Taking a man’s weapon never sat well with anyone, but, as he learned later while he lay in a puddle of his own blood, it was necessary.
Another thing he’d learned was to seat everyone better. The absence of a leader had generated an animosity amongst the clans that was thick enough to cut through with a knife. Dimitri didn’t know the full story and never got the chance to ask when the fight started, but from what he gathered between the shouting and before the switchblade was that someone stole something from someone, but no one could prove it and no one wanted to admit to anything.
Dimitri didn’t care. He wasn’t a teacher rounding naughty children. He had no patience or time for useless bickering, which was what he’d been about to say when shit had gone terribly wrong.
“This will not continue,” he told the group. “We will not fight amongst ourselves. That is weakness and we will not give the other territories the opening they need to take us down.” He paused as he walked. Yelling had begun to agitate his side, making the skin burn, and he needed a second to catch his breath without wavering. “We have the heart of this city, the crown, without us, it will all fall into chaos. It is our job, our duty to keep the body working and the system flowing. Whatever animosity you might have towards each other needs to be resolved. Now!”
No one spoke. Even if they disagreed, no one said as much. He was their leader. What he said was law.
He struggled not to check his watch. He really had no time for this. Ava had been discharged and he wanted to see her. Instead, he was babysitting a room full of grown, pouty men.
Resigned, he slowed to a stop and pivoted to face the group, his hands behind his back. He studied their faces, taking in their enmity and barely suppressed rage, and calculated the best course of action.
The Devil's Beauty (Crime Lord Interconnected Standalone Book 2) Page 37