Just as Benedict finished her harping.
Zane snickered into the silence, his gravelly chuckle filling the tense quiet.
I glanced at him, along with everyone else, and he waved his hand. “Sorry. Just remembered a joke.”
Right.
And we waited. Again. The only break in the jumpy quiet was when Zane’s cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket, placing it at his ear without looking at the readout, and before he could say anything, I heard Stash yelling over the line. I started to snicker, close enough to hear most of his rant. Zane tried to speak, but Stash kept screaming. Apparently, he had gone to the house and found all the bodies but no one else there. He wasn’t pleased, to say the least. But his reasoning wasn’t because of the carnage or even being worried about his friends missing whereabouts. He was upset because no one had cleaned up the ‘damn mess’ before going out. And not telling him where the new fun was to be had.
There was a pause in Stash’s tirade—probably taking a breath—and Zane stated quickly, “We’re at Donovan Hospital where Ember was taken.” He hung up on Stash without another word.
I started snorting harder, falling back against my chair at the absurdity of my evening so far. The sun surely had to come up soon because this hellish day had to end sometime.
A half hour after Benedict had spoken with Grigori, a nurse came into the room—now empty of browbeaten cops—saying loudly when he saw it was full, his eyes only slightly widened, “Grigori Kozar?”
Zane cleared his throat. “He stepped out.”
The nurse looked perplexed for a moment, and then asked, “Who else is here for Ember Lerrus?”
The room raised their hands.
The nurse’s mouth dropped, and he stated quickly, “She’s awake now. I can allow four of you at a time in her room. Decide amongst yourselves who’s going first.” He studied us, rubbernecking, waiting in the silence that extended.
Zane stood, and I darted up as fast as I could with my pregnant belly, wanting to thank her as soon as I could—and see with my own eyes that she was all right. Daniil and Roman also stood. Well, that was easy. No arguments needed.
The nurse motioned for us to follow him, and we did, waiting in front of the elevator. When we entered, he hit the button for the twelfth floor, and there was a pause as the doors shut before we started chuckling and shaking our heads. Grigori was already up there somewhere. No clue how he knew unless he had peeked at the chart Dr. Benedict had held, but he was already there with Ember, no doubt.
The nurse looked nonplussed as we tried to contain ourselves, but it was late, and we were all starting to come down from our high and shocked systems. A little laughter wasn’t a bad thing right now. Zane even joined in as the door dinged open to a busy nurse’s station, but no Grigori in site. How the hell he got past this eagle-eyed station was beyond me because we all got the hairy eyeball. Their hostility only placated when they saw the nurse with us.
The nurse explained Ember’s injuries, which were extensive, but had been taken care of by Dr. Benedict. He motioned down the hallway, stating, “She’s in room 1217.”
We thanked him, and he went back to the nurses’ station, leaning down and started to…what appeared to be…gossip with his co-workers. Probably telling them about the ‘mob’ downstairs. I almost giggled at my own little joke.
I definitely needed some sleep. And therapy.
I watched the numbers pass by until we got to the open door at the end of the hallway with the numbered plate of 1217. But we stopped when we heard Grigori quietly ordering from inside the room, “Open your damn mouth!”
“No,” Ember’s replied, her voice scratchy and hoarse, but very much defiant.
“You sound like shit! And I know your throat hurts. The ice will help,” he argued, sounding just as determined as her.
“No. I don’t want to eat anything.”
Grigori growled low. “Kitten, I’m so fucking pissed right now that unless you want me to force this down your goddamn throat, you had better open it yourself.”
A pause. “Hate you,” she grumbled, but it sounded like she opened her mouth because Grigori murmured his soft approval a moment later.
I hesitated to go inside. Hell, we all hesitated.
But it was quiet for a few moments, and I started to move in, all of us deciding it was the best time, our bodies starting to inch forward until Ember’s voice sounded again and sounding muffled. We halted as one with her saying, “I think,” a pause, “I blew my cover,” another pause, “with your family.”
“Uh-huh,” Grigori murmured quietly, sounding distracted, his own voice stifled. A moment's lull. “You acted like,” another lull, “the trained assassin you are.”
Daniil started to grin.
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you didn’t have to blow your cover too. The agency would have been pissed to know we both screwed up.”
Grigori chuckled softly. “You have met Papa, haven’t you? I’m sure he already knows.”
There was another long break, and she muttered a little breathlessly, “He looks too much like you.”
Daniil’s shoulders started shaking…but they really started bouncing when a tiny feminine moan came out of the otherwise silent room.
Were they serious?
She just got out of surgery!
Zane rolled his eyes, sighing silently before lifting a hand and loudly knocking on the open door. “Visitors!” He paused a good five seconds before entering the room, and I followed with Daniil and Roman behind me.
The room was huge and spacious, a couch and chairs and a flat screen television with a row of windows against the back wall where Ember lay on a hospital bed with a blanket tucked tight around her bitty frame, looking even smaller on the huge bed. Her face was pale but clean of blood. Her hair was wet, looking a few shades darker than normal, a few freckles she had on her nose and under her eyes on her cheeks standing out starkly. She looked all of, oh, maybe fifteen lying there. And she was one of the three most deadly people I knew. One of the others was standing in front of the windows—now clean of blood, hands in his pockets, leaning back, appearing relaxed and cool, just like Ember.
Christ, I couldn’t say it enough. They were fucking good at hiding who they really were.
Grigori had learned from someone. That man being the love of my life.
And the deadliest man I knew.
“How are you?” Zane asked quietly, coming to stand beside the bed, taking her hand that didn’t hold a cup of ice chips with a spoon stuck in it.
Ember shrugged, and winced, her face paling unbelievably more. “Alive.”
“Are you pressing that damn button for the drugs?” Grigori asked, sounding irritated even though his posture and face didn’t change. “It’s there for a reason.”
She turned her head, somehow managing to pass the cup off to Zane, leaving him blinking down at it in his hand as she grabbed a little cylinder plastic piece with an attached cord that hung off the bed. She scowled at Grigori, muttering, “You’re such a hypocrite. You wouldn’t take them, but I have. A lot. I think I’ve used up all the good stuff.” She pressed the button at the end of the cylinder repeatedly, glaring at it now, and I noticed her eyes were dilated from whatever pain meds they were giving her, even though she was still obviously hurting.
Grigori’s eyebrows snapped together, and he leaned forward, pressing a button on the side of her bed, asking Zane, “How many are allowed in here?”
“Four.”
Grigori nodded. “Tell them she needs more meds.” He slid into the dark bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
I ignored that and went around the side of the bed, saying softly to her, “Seriously badass. You know that, right?” I moved a section of her wet hair over the hickey that was showing vividly against her pale skin, covering it, which she didn’t seem to notice. She grumbled, her face flushing a little, giving her some color, looking embarrassed. I leaned down in front of her, right in her
face, so she couldn’t look anywhere else. “Thank you, Ember.”
Her dilated blue eyes stared back at me and darted all over my face, reading me. Slowly, she nodded. “You’re welcome.”
I smiled, satisfied she actually took the compliment. Drugs were good on her.
The same nurse entered the room, and Zane spoke with him quietly. The nurse moved around Ember, pressing some buttons on a little box next to the bed. Ember mumbled, “That’s nice….” She repeatedly blinked, her gaze unfocused.
My lips twitched. Drugs were really good on her.
The nurse stated, “I’ve upped the dosage. You should be feeling no pain in just a second. Call me if you need anything else, Ms. Lerrus.”
He sounded like a total suck up.
Ember nodded, her lips twitching as he left the room. She said quietly, “I think he’s worried I’ll have him fired. He’s already been in here three times.” She chuckled, her eyelids suddenly drooping. “Ah. That’s the good stuff.” Her grin widened, looking drugged and amused, and somehow, even younger. “Grigori even hid—”
She was cut off as ice chips were suddenly stuffed into her mouth. I hadn’t heard Grigori come out of the bathroom, but now he stood next to the bed in front of Zane with a spoon stuffed in Ember’s mouth. She grinned around the spoon and giggled, peering up at him.
Good God. She slowly, very damn slowly, took the ice off the spoon, her red cupids bow lips sliding over the plastic as she stared up at Grigori with a whole hell of a lot more than friendship in her heated gaze, not looking so young.
Yep, she was good and drugged.
Daniil now stood at the end of the bed with a hand over his mouth, resting his elbow on a crossed arm over his chest, his eyes crinkling as he stared back and forth between his son and her.
Grigori cleared his throat like he was hoarse, and I had a damn good view of him since I stood on the other side of the bed even though his hair hung down around his face hiding his scorching gaze from the men. But when he spoke, there wasn’t any disguising her effect on him, his voice at least two octaves lower than normal. “Here,” he stuffed the spoon back in the cup, placing it in her good hand, “eat your ice, and shut up.”
She grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary, her head falling back on the pillows as she stared up at him, her eyes slowly widening. “You’re really tall, ya know?” She poked a finger in her bad arm’s bicep. “And your muscles are gigantic.” Her eyes traveled down his body, stopping at his crotch, her eyes going big as saucers, and her pretty mouth opened again.
Grigori slapped a hand over it, running his free hand through his hair, muttering, “You’re stoned off your ass. Maybe visitors aren’t a great idea right now.”
Behind his hand, she mumbled, “Nah. They’re fine.” She waved the cup of ice drunkenly. “I feel great.”
I tried not to laugh as Grigori sighed, taking his hand back, muttering something under his breath. He grabbed the ice bucket, and mumbled, “I’m going to grab you more ice.” He stormed out of the room, leaving everyone quiet in his wake.
Daniil eventually cleared his throat lightly, his mouth opening. But he snapped it shut when a newcomer entered the room in an overabundance of color and flurry of rapid movement. The person stopped just as fast with worried eyes trained on the small person in the bed. Daniil’s eyes widened to a comical extreme.
Oh, my God.
Ember grabbed her breasts suddenly, and shoved the right one up, bellowing at the same time, “Stash, your tits are crooked!”
Stash sat on the bed next to Ember’s hip, leaning over her, talking to her quietly. He had been frantic when he first entered the room, not knowing the extent of Ember’s injuries, but he seemed to have calmed down in the last two minutes, seeing that she was alive and well.
That would have been normal if he wasn’t wearing a sparkling blue evening gown, matching heels, and a long black wig, and more—better applied—make-up than I had on right now. Oh, and falsies that gave him a decent woman’s figure that he had quickly adjusted in his dash across the room after Ember hollered at him.
Honestly, I had no clue how she knew it was him because he was pretty as hell, even if overly tall for a woman. And, somehow, even drugged, she had been able to see through his disguise immediately. I could have sat there talking with him for an hour and not realized it was Stash. He was that damn changed.
Daniil, Zane, Roman, and I rested back against the windows, staring down at him in shock. I couldn’t see his face now because his—goddamn, holy shit—long hair was hanging around his face, blanketing both him and Ember. I licked my lips and tried to speak for the third time since he had entered. Again, nothing came out.
So, I went for another form of communication. I nudged Daniil with an elbow and just pointed. I figured that was pretty self-explanatory.
A choked sound came from him, but that was about it.
Guess this was news to him, too.
Fate was really having a heyday with us tonight.
Case in point, as if our night wasn’t already fucked up enough, Ember chuckled, very much stoned, and asked if she could feel Stash’s falsies. Stash seemed to find this amusing, and he agreed with a soft laugh, indulging her drugged mind. Right when she palmed his fake breasts, Grigori walked into the room with the tub of ice.
Seriously.
It was way past one of those nights.
Grigori stopped. Stared. And…his face…
Zane started choking pretty damn bad.
Roman muttered something in Russian.
I was pretty sure Daniil was having a standing seizure, by the way his whole body shook.
Ember slurred behind Stash’s fake hair, “Damn, these are nice.” She readjusted her hands, getting a better feel. “Can I slip these babies out of your gown? I want to see them.”
I had to lock my knees to keep from falling flat on my ass, grabbing Daniil’s forearm for added balance, my lungs squeezing tight as I pushed the laugh back.
Grigori’s face was slowly turning a furious pink, reminding me of a heating cartoon teakettle, getting hotter and redder until the spout blows with a screeching whistle. His plump lips had thinned; his eyebrows were lowered over his dark eyes, staring at Ember’s hands since those were all that were visible of her under Stash, his attention complete and absolute on what she was doing. Slowly, and softly, he asked into the semi-quiet, “Ember, honey? Would you care to introduce me to your friend?” I was betting he hadn’t brought out his gun because Stash wasn’t physically touching Ember; it was the other way around. Plus, there was all that pesky oxygen equipment around that might blow.
Ember took a hand from Stash’s fake chest, batted his wig to the side, and hollering, “Grigori! Grigori! Come feel these! They’re amazing!”
I banged back against the windows, Daniil and Zane both gripping one of my elbows to keep me on my feet as I started choking, staring at Grigori’s pissed off face that altered to Stash, who had frozen in place at the low, threatening tone in Grigori’s voice.
Instantly, Grigori asked, “Who the fuck are you?” But I guess he really didn’t care who Stash was because only after a spurt of a pause, he stated coolly, “She’s drugged right now. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be touching you.” Confident, knowing words. His gaze darted to us like an arrow, his expression turning even more violent, and before anyone could get a word in, he pointed at Ember and Stash, asking Zane, “You’re just letting this happen?”
Ember said, “Grigori, quit yelling at everybody and come feel his tits.”
I snorted so hard it burned like a motherfucker.
Zane shook his head, pointing at them, and sputtered, “Stash—”
One word. That was all he got out before he threw an arm over Roman’s shoulders, laughing it up.
Grigori was already making his way to the bed, but he stumbled a step at Zane’s answer, staring at the black haired ‘woman’ over Ember. His furious expression turned incredulous as he advanced, his eyes widenin
g as his gaze traveled over Stash, who was whispering something quietly to Ember from his position over her still. Grigori put the tub down on the table and took three long strides, grabbing a handful of Stash’s black hair, and yanked back.
“Ow! Goddammit!” Stash shouted as he was thrown onto his back next to Ember’s feet. He scowled up at Grigori. “The wig doesn’t come off that easy, asshole!”
Grigori’s jaw dropped, even as he tried to untangle his fingers from the wig.
Stash grunted and cursed the whole while.
The four of us standing by the window lost it, laughing our asses off, especially when Ember whined, “Dammit, Grigori! I wanted to see them!”
Grigori ignored her, finally getting his fingers free, staring down at Stash, and trying to keep a straight face. “Moonlighting, Stash?”
“Fuck you,” Stash grumbled, sitting up and righting his dress and wig. “I was on reconnaissance for a job when Ember called. I didn’t have time to change.” He scowled at Grigori. “Speaking of which, there’s a fuck load of dead Russians all over your house. Care to explain?”
Ember raised her hand. “I killed ‘em all. ‘Nuff said.” She tilted her head, eyebrows snapping together.
“You can’t be in pain right now,” Grigori stated, his fingers twitching like he wanted to touch her, his face back to a blank mask. “You’re too doped.”
She shook her head, her eyes going around to each of us, a different finger thumping with each person she passed before she hit the button for the nurse. “No. I’m not feeling a thing. I’m good.”
Grigori sighed, staring at the button she had pressed before heading toward the bathroom, dragging Stash with him, who had evidently bypassed the nurses’ station just as easily as Grigori.
Obsidian Music (Lion Security Book 3) Page 9