He had been selfish, only caring that she was finally with him instead of heeding his father’s warnings. He had foolishly thought he could protect her from anything, but how could he protect her from himself.
When he finally felt her go lax, he silently slipped out of bed, tucking the covers around her. He had a job to do.
Grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen, he filled it with his own clothes and began placing hers in there as well. When he tossed her jeans in next, a flash of gold slipped from the pocket. Looking down, he spotted the gold wedding band on a delicate chain.
Brows drawn together, he picked it up, turning it over in his hands. He knew who it belonged to with just a glance.
Mishca watched as Doc stitch up the brigadier’s bullet wound, the ring of his finger curious. He knew what it was of course, but he didn’t understand why Doc wore it. His mother had worn one, but he had never seen Mikhail with one, not even when they were in the privacy of their home.
Once he was finished, Doc clapped the man on the shoulder, giving him instructions on how to properly care for the wound.
Alone with him, Mishca asked, “Why do you wear that?”
Doc looked down to where Mishca was gesturing, holding his hand out to slip the ring off. He was used to Mishca’s questions, attributing it to his unconventional upbringing. Despite only being nine, Mishca was tall for his age and carried himself like he was far older.
Showing him the ring, he turned it so that he could see the engraving within the interior. “It’s a symbol of my love for my wife.”
“My father doesn’t wear one,” Mishca said reasonably, “but he loved my mother.”
The way his eyes flickered down to the floor for just a moment told Doc that he didn’t necessarily believe that. Sighing, he tried to describe it the best way he knew how.
“I wear it for my family, to show others that I value them.”
Mishca shook his head, turning the ring over and over in his hands. “Families are a weakness. You’re letting your enemies know how to hurt you.”
Doc liked to think he didn’t have enemies, though with the way his life was going now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. “One day, you’re going to fall for a young lady who will make you want to give her the world. You won’t care about the danger that your life may pose because you know you’ll protect her from anything.
“This,” he said slipping the ring back on his finger, “is my way of telling my enemies that yes, I do have a family, but I’ll die before I allow anyone to harm them.”
Mishca frowned. “Hubris, is it not?”
“Not when it’s true.”
Mishca had fucked up. Unlike him, Cameron Thompson had did what he’d said so many years ago. He had given his life for Lauren and the only thing Mishca was doing was putting that sacrifice in danger.
For a while, he leaned against the bathroom counter, staring at it, but the longer he held it, the more resolute about the decision he was about to make.
It was time to end this, once and for all.
He placed the ring on the bedside table, kissing the top of Lauren’s head as he left. Luka was down the hall, flipping the top of his lighter.
“Something you need, Boss?”
“Whatever she needs, get her. If she wakes up, call me immediately.”
Nodding, Luka got that calculating gleam in his eye. “You sure you don’t want me with you?”
“I can handle it.”
“How is she?” Vlad asked as he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, tossing Mishca another pair.
“I don’t know,” Mishca replied honestly. “She hasn’t said much. Once we’re finished here, we’re going to meet with Jetmir.”
Vlad shot him a curious glance, but didn’t question him.
It took a few hours and a couple of calls to get rid of any evidence connecting Lauren to anything at the club. Once the job was done—and double checked by Mishca—Mishca sent his men home.
“Let’s go.”
Mishca and Vlad drove some ways out of town, to a cemetery that was closed to the public at night. Jetmir was waiting, his men with guns at the ready.
He raised a brow when Mishca exited the car, his other brow joining the first as Mishca went to the trunk, opening it.
He gestured at the body. “You sent your hound to my door.”
Gritting his teeth, Jetmir’s hands flexed. “And this is what? A challenge?”
“No, this ends. You want your property, I want you out of New York. Give me three days to either get the diamond for you, or I’ll hand Naomi over myself.”
Jetmir laughed coldly, shaking his head. “This was my suggestion from the beginning. Why accept now?”
Because then, Mishca wasn’t willing to hand Naomi over knowing what the Albanians had planned for her. She might have been a conniving bitch, but no one deserved that fate. But now that Lauren was caught up in this? He would happily hand her over without a single regret.
“My reasoning is none of your concern. Do you agree to this? You don’t send your men with any messages and you do not go near anyone I care about. Understood?”
Jetmir looked like he wanted to argue, but he had the good sense to nod, extending his hand. He might have been relentless in his pursuit of what he’d lost, but he was not blind enough to see that this Russian was a man of his word.
“Same place.” Jetmir barked an order to his men and they came over, removing the body from the trunk.
Mishca didn’t complain, even if they thought to use him as blackmail, there was nothing on the body to connect it with him or Lauren.
Now that he was done with him, Mishca had one more stop to make.
As he stepped into the hotel room, Naomi reached for him, sliding he arms around his shoulders, pressing her breasts against him, her lips to the underside of his jaw.
“I’m glad you came,” she whispered.
Mishca pulled her arms down, setting her away, making a frown appear on her lips.
He stepped past her, seating himself in the armchair away from the window. Before he sat, however, he made a show of withdrawing the gun from the waistband of his trousers, resting it on his knee.
A corner of Naomi’s mouth tipped up as she untied the sashes of her robe, letting the two sides fall open to reveal pale skin, complemented by blue lace.
“Is this the game you want to play?” She asked sweetly as she disposed of the robe, dropping down to her knees to crawl towards him, the sway of her hips almost hypnotizing.
A lesser man might have been tempted by her performance, but Mishca was not an average man.
When she was kneeling between his legs, her hands sliding up his inner thighs, he reached for her then, his fingers closing around her delicate wrists, squeezing enough that she knew he was serious. She gasped in delighted joy for a moment—there were times during their lengthy affair that things got rough between them—but she realized quickly enough that this wasn’t anything like that.
He let her go, just long enough to place the gun on the table beside him, drawing her up to her feet as he stood.
“Choose carefully what you say next,” he said slowly, without an ounce of humor in his voice. “Where. Is. The. Diamond?”
She wrenched free from his hold—only because he let her—now glaring at him as she rubbed her wrists. “I told you. I don’t have it.”
“Naomi—”
“Don’t use that tone with me!” She snapped, sneering, “Is that how you get your way with her? Does she do your bidding like a well-trained whore? Or is it you that does the mewling?” She asked, her entire demeanor changing as she fingered a button on the front of his coat. “Do you have to hide your true nature? Would she run away from the real man lurking behind the surface?”
Naomi tsked. “Don’t forget, the nice ones never last long in this life, Mishca. I’m sure you can remember that.”
She smiled coyly, knowing she had hit her mark when he almost imperceptibly flinched, but she also knew she had mad
e a grave mistake when his eyes crackled like blue fire.
Mishca felt a coldness wash over him, the same coldness he had learned to rid himself of to keep from losing himself to this life completely. But right now, he forgot all of his renowned self-control.
Grabbing her by the hair, he threw her into the chair, the force of the movement sending it back on its hind legs. As she made to get up, he snatched up his gun, shoving the barrel of it against her throat, keeping her in place.
She cleared her throat, forcing a smile. “That’s the Mishca I remember.”
“Tell me where the diamond is.”
“I don’t—”
“Do not lie to me,” he warned as he cocked the hammer back, “or I’ll paint these walls with your brain.”
Smirking, she said, “Seems counterintuitive when I wear your stars.”
“And I’ll burn those fucking stars off your back if I need to.”
She remained stubbornly silent, practically daring him to act.
So be it.
If he couldn’t hand over the diamond, they could have her body. Moving his finger to the trigger, whatever she saw in his face made her break.
“I’ll have to bring it to you,” she hastened to say, her eyes now following the movement of his finger as he removed it from the trigger. “Tomorrow. I have it stored in a safety deposit box.”
Lowering the gun, he crouched down until they were eye level. “Two o’ clock, tomorrow. The Fountain. You bring it, then you leave and never show your face here again.”
Stashing his gun away, he gave her his back as he headed towards the door.
“All of this for her? Why is she so special?”
He expected the bitterness in her voice, but beneath it was a sadness he hadn’t expected. He had never thought much of how he treated the women that came and went in his life, only thought that since there was a mutual understanding as to what was expected, there wouldn’t be an issue, but as he was seeing now, the lines sometimes blurred.
“Because I love her,” he answered honestly.
And this time, she was the one who flinched.
Lauren kept her eyes closed though she felt Mishca move from beside her. He was careful, moving silently around, trying not to disturb her. She had wanted to sleep, but every time she about to drift off, images of the Albanian had her too afraid to succumb to her unconscious, not sure what she would find in her dreams.
It was easy, pretending like she was sleeping, because she counted in her head. The only way she could keep herself from going back to that dark place was to count aimlessly, thinking of random numbers in various combinations.
She could hear him beside her, the sound of something dropping onto the dresser reaching her ears. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, the act taking away some of the anxiety.
She had no idea what to feel.
Guilt mixed with relief. Anger and sadness. Fear and justification.
Standing up, she tiptoed across the cool floor, cracking the door to peer out. Luka was laying on the floor with his feet against the wall, staring up at the ceiling as though it held all the answers in the world.
“What’s doing?”
She didn’t know why she had gotten up, just wanting to move around, but now she felt obligated to answer him.
“My shoulder hurts. Is there any aspirin?” Actually her shoulder did hurt, probably from the recoil of the gun after shooting it the first time. It had more power than she was expecting.
“I could call the Doc for you, have him look it over. Cap might want me to do that, be responsible and all.”
“The Doc?”
“Shit, I forgot you’re new. We have a doctor on call. Comes whenever we need him.”
He didn’t know and the words explaining it to him caught in her throat. The only thought that repeatedly ran in her mind was that there was another doctor.
She didn’t know what she had thought. It wasn’t like they were not going to need a doctor just because her…but they couldn’t just replace him, could they?
“Yo?” Luka was looking at her as though she might be having a panic attack.
She felt like she was. “Yes,” she said without thinking about.
She didn’t know what she would say when the doctor got there, but she needed to see for herself.
It was the way he carried himself that brought the first lance of pain, then there was the slight scent of beeswax and rubber that clung to his hands when he brushed her hair back to gaze down at her shoulder. Even in the way his eyes could be caring one moment, but detached the next.
Just for an instant, Lauren didn’t see the strange man standing next to her. No, she saw Cameron Thompson, at least how she last remembered him. That easy smile of his, familiar golden eyes with laugh lines fanning out beside them.
She could almost imagine it was him who was tending to her, but all too soon, that illusion shattered, leaving only the reality of the situation she found herself in and the emptiness she felt at seeing her father’s replacement.
“You’re—” She needed to clear her throat, “—Doc, right?”
“Yes, that’s what they call me.”
“What’s your real name?”
He seemed taken aback by her question, looking to Luka for an answer though she doubted he would be able to give him one. If he knew about her relationship with the Volkovs, he would have never brought the man here.
Mishca wouldn’t have allowed it.
She couldn’t help but wonder what else she didn’t know, how many more of his secrets would hurt her. She thought the worst thing that could have happened to them was his uncle, but she realized that that was just hitting the surface.
“Derek Myers, mam.”
She nodded. “Luka, could you get me a glass of water?”
He left the room.
“Do you have a family, Mr. Meyers?”
His hands stilled on her shoulder where they were gingerly pressing against her skin. She realized what that question might have sounded like coming from her.
To him, she was just another one of them.
“I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want.”
Whatever he might have heard in her voice had him answering. “I have a wife and two sons.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting past the pain in her chest. It was like a raw, festering wound that refused to heal. “I’m so sorry.”
“Pardon me?”
She shook her head, falling silent, letting him continue his work in peace. When Mishca returned, she would do whatever she could to help.
The light shining from beneath his bedroom door had Mishca’s heart skipping a beat, his somber mood lifting. He briefly wondered why Luka hadn’t called him until he saw the enforcer coming out of the kitchen with a glass of water.
“She’s awake?”
He nodded. “Her shoulder was hurting so I called Doc.”
“Fuck.” Mishca’s cursed drowned out Luka’s next words, but he didn’t care.
Mishca couldn’t blame him for this. He hadn’t known their history, but with each step closer to the bedroom he took, a sense of foreboding filled him.
Doc was wrapping gauze around Lauren’s shoulder when he entered, followed by medical tape. Lauren’s eyes found him immediately, but she didn’t say anything, her eyes said it all.
“You should be fine,” Doc was saying, oblivious to Mishca’s presence. “Take it easy for a while so you won’t further strain the muscle. Have Luka call me in a couple of days and I’ll come by to check on it.”
She nodded silently.
Patting her knee, he repacked his supplies, heading back out, speaking to Mishca before leaving out. Mishca closed the door behind him, hovering near the door, not knowing what to do.
He was anticipating what she would do now. Would she scream at him? Would she fight him? Either would be understandable, but she did nothing
“How are you feeling?”
> “How much?” She asked softly.
He blinked, surprised, but confused by her question. “What?”
“How much does he owe your family? Isn’t that why he works for you?”
Scrubbing a hand down his face, Mishca sighed going to sit in one of the chairs across from her, knowing she probably didn’t want him near her at the moment.
“Lauren—”
“Answer me.”
“Five-hundred-thousand.”
“And when his debt is paid, he can go back to his family, and none of you will bother him again.”
“Not in so many words.”
“Then explain it to me, clearly, so I can understand.”
“It’s not just about the money,” he said, the words seeming pulled from him.
“But you never answered the question. If he pays his debt, is he free to be with his family?”
“In a way, yes.”
“I’ll pay it.”
“Lauren—”
“I have the money, just tell me what to do. Do you need it in cash, small bills? A check?”
“I can’t allow you to pay his debt?”
“Why not?” She asked looking at him.
God, it was like her pain was manifesting inside of him, making his heart ache. “You do not have that kind of money.”
“Actually, I do. When your father paid for my mother’s silence, my dad had already set up a trust for me that came from his life insurance. I can pay it, just tell me.”
“Lauren, you’ve been through a great deal tonight and I don’t want you—”
“No!” Her sudden shout made him fall silent. “Do you even know his name? About his family? I can’t let them experience what we did.”
She was on the verge of breaking down and the sight of that crushed him. This was what it would always be. Something would always remind her of Cameron and there was nothing he could do about that, but he could save her further pain.
Until the End Page 17