Page 25 of Tangled Vows

Chapter Twelve

Clare

Agony.

Frustration.

These two nasty emotions became my constant companions after that fateful night.

For three days, my wrist hurt so bad that I had to gulp down painkillers all the time. I even woke up in the middle of the night from the pain and had to wait for the pill to take effect so I could go back to sleep.

To make matters worse, my ribs posed an even bigger issue. Getting out of bed became a process that required patience and drained my energy. The slightest of moves could bring agony. I literally moved in slow motion until I could stand on my own two feet. Yet, the ordeal did not end there. Covering short distances was a struggle. I inched forward instead of walking, like I was some old lady. I shuffled with caution, acting as if the floor was full of landmines.

Nevertheless, the worst effect of that night was not physical. Painkillers could handle that, although it would take them time to kick in. The worst souvenir I got from that awful blast was psychological. I can’t go five minutes without recollecting the moment when I was blasted. I relive the incident over and over again, wishing I had turned down Leonid’s suggestion for a date. That way, I would have stayed in. I would never have been hurt.

I can’t sleep for more than ten or fifteen minutes at a time without having a nightmare about the whole thing. I jolt up, then struggle to hold in my moans due to the sharp stabbing in my ribs.

Finally, a week after my brush with death, I am discharged from the hospital. Four Bratva men escort me out of the building and load me into a black Mercedes. I recognize them in an instant. Knowing that asking questions will do me no good, I keep my mouth shut for the duration of the drive.

Besides, I’m not in the mood for a chat. I may have healed, but all I want to do is get in touch with Leonid and Ivan. After hearing Leonid had survived the bombing, I can’t wait to wrap my arms around them both. I’m also curious as to how his enemies managed to get the best of him. Truth be told, they came very close to killing him.

It’s difficult for me to comprehend how a Bratva captain would be defeated like that. He and Ivan had been protecting me for weeks. How in the world could Leonid not have protected himself?

The new safe house doesn’t resemble the first one by any means. The old safe house was deep in the city, surrounded by homes and well looked after properties. This one? No. It’s situated on a hill in Surfside, overlooking a bay. Palm trees line either side of the road, and there are no other houses in either direction for hundreds of yards.

Leonid and Ivan are standing near the arch-shaped front door of a Victorian-style house. Leonid’s expression softens as he watches me approach. The same can’t be said of Ivan. He checks his watch first before crossing his arms behind his back.

“It’s great to see you again,” Leonid states, opening his arms to welcome me.

“The pleasure is all mine,” I confess, grinning up at him as I walk into his arms.

I feel Ivan’s stare on me.

“No time for niceties,” he says in a cold voice, gesturing me to the door. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Oh man, this guy can be aloof. His behavior attests to that. He won’t even let me enjoy my reunion with them. In fact, I’m not sure he’s actually enjoying this. He’s treating me like I’m one of his associates, for crying out loud.

“Our men have been quite busy while you two were recovering,” he informs as the three of us entering a rather plain house. It’s nothing like his penthouse. To the right is a kitchen, a granite counter separating it from the living room. The two-piece sofa sits in front of a big-screen TV; a dining table takes up the corner.

Another man in spectacles joins us in the living room, holding the TV remote in his hand. With a lean runner’s build, but much shorter than Leonid and Ivan, he steps next to me.

“Clare, this is Rurik. Rurik, meet Clare,” Ivan introduces us to one another, his tone quicker than usual. “Rurik is the head of our tech team. He and his men have spent the past six days going over the bombing of Leonid’s car. Rurik?”

“First, let me say I was amazed that someone could have sabotaged a BMW M3,” he admits, pressing the “on” button on the remote. “That car is truly fascinating. My boys and I call it a nerd fest, because that’s exactly what it is.

He pauses, an image of a dark parking lot coming up on the screen. Two rows of six cars each are parked across from one another. The silver BMW is in the middle of the row on the left. “This surveillance footage was captured by the security cameras. I must warn you—it’s quite shocking.”

A small, skinny man rushes into the picture from the top, looking back at something. A brown sports bag is hanging from his shoulder, his eyes on the M3. Kneeling in front of the hood, he pulls the bag off his shoulder, unzips it in a quick move and produces a black, cylindrical object. Leonid gasps the moment the small man points that object at the hood of his car. The guy points it steadily at the middle of the hood, a red beam shooting out of the tip. Threads of smoke rise into the air.

Both of them watch the events unfold, as Leonid slams his hand into his forehead. Ivan scowls.

“We’re looking at a plasma cutter.” Rurik’s somewhat thin voice shatters the silence. “This is high-end equipment. An average plasma cutter costs at least twenty thousand dollars. One of the best models on the market can set someone back fifty thousand.”

“So much for impenetrable,” Leonid murmurs. “The latch on that hood was destroyed, Rurik. The onboard computers should have warned me. Why didn’t they?”

“Good question,” Rurik says. “This had us all scratching our heads, but we were able to figure it out. We knew one of the computers was hacked right away—we just didn’t know which one. We found the answer when a fellow Bratva brother named Mark Suvorov lent us his own M3. As it turned out, hacking into the computer responsible for the car’s onboard safety wasn’t all that hard. A skilled hacker can do it in a matter of minutes.”

“One question.” Ivan raises his voice in curiosity. “I thought a computer has to be on for it to be hacked. How did they do that?”

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