Page 41 of Tangled Vows

“Don’t speak.” His words come out more like a request than a demand. “Yuschenko said the drugs would take a while to kick in.”

“Your shirt,” I remark, tossing a quick glance down at his shoulder.

“I tore it up to stop the bleeding,” he explains. “Do you know where we are?”

I look around. The setting seems familiar. Light blue walls, a bar in the corner and a pool table in the middle of the hall. Cues are on a rack on the wall, waiting for someone to pick them up.

“Your safe house basement,” I say, my voice weak. “How...?” I wonder. “I don’t remember.”

He purses his lips and shoves his hands into his pockets. “It doesn’t matter now. You survived. That’s what counts.”

“I fucked up, didn’t I?” I ask him, knowing that I don’t have the strength to go on any further. Leonid doesn’t like to confront anybody when they’re down. He prefers head-to-head confrontations on equal terms. I may be in pain, but my memory works just fine.

“Simeone got away, Ivan,” he says, his tone deeper. “He’s probably laughing at us as we speak.”

That name sends images of what happened right back into my mind. The scraping of my watch across the hood of a car. Three Italian goons pulling their guns out. A hail of fire coming our way. The pain of a bullet in my body. Me being blasted back and slammed into a wall.

I was right. This was my mistake. I was the one who gave away our position.

Three sets of footsteps grab Leonid’s attention. He faces the right part of his basement, Viktor and his guards strutting closer. I can read concern on his face, although our Pakhan isn’t known for his tender heart.

“Look at you,” he says in a stiff voice near the foot of my bed. “You bring shame to the Bratva. Both of you.”

“I’m okay, boss,” I tell him, not liking his cold stance.

“What?!” Viktor growls, tossing a vicious glare over at me.

“You heard me,” I insist. “I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

He walks closer and throws his arm over my chest, his thumb pressing into my wound.

I feel like someone has shoved a red-hot piece of iron into my body. I jerk upwards, a cry of agony bouncing back off the walls of Leonid’s basement.

“Are you okay now?!” Viktor wonders, his eyes darkening with anger.

“Boss, boss!” Leonid shouts, causing Viktor to whip his head in his direction. “He didn’t mean it, okay? He’s in a lot of pain—please, don’t make it worse than it is.”

“He should be!” The Pakhan yells, yanking his arm away. “Dmitri told me what happened. He almost got you both killed.”

“That’s true,” Leonid confirms with a nod. “But we’re both alive.”

“Only just,” Viktor grumbles, striding away from me. “You should have known better, Leonid. You went there alone? Just the two of you against an Italian gangster?”

“We underestimated him,” Leonid admits, his tone riddled with guilt. “We should have taken at least some of our men with us.”

“This time? Maybe,” Viktor says, speaking his mind. “Next time? No. You know why? Because there won’t be a next time. You tried ambushing him; it didn’t work. Simeone makes money for the mafia, or else they would have killed him. Italians protect their golden boys. They’ll have a security detail on him from here on out.”

“Then how will we get to him?” Leonid wonders, throwing his arms out to the side.

“You figure it out,” Viktor commands, his icy stare lingering on my brother. “I thought you were smart, Kovalev. You’ve been proving me wrong often lately. Too often for your own good.”

Snapping his fingers, Viktor turns away, his security walking alongside him.

“He doesn’t mean that,” I tell Leonid, holding in a grunt. Viktor doesn’t let a chance to show his brutality go to waste. He doesn’t hold back, even when it comes to one of his captains.

“I know, but he’s right,” Leonid argues. “We can forget about ambushing Simeone. He’ll be too well protected. Ivan, look...” He stops talking and focuses back on me. “We know what we’re dealing with now. So, when you’re all healed, we’ll devise a plan to take out Simeone. Sleep tight, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod, looking at him through unfocused eyes. Our Pakhan has a point—I can’t deny that. We must find another way to finish what Simeone started. Whatever it is, it can’t entail me and Leonid lying in wait in a dark corner.

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