Page 14 of Bratva Beast

The man has blood oozing around his wound. He won’t bleed to death, but he’s sweating and pale. I flick my head to the door. “Someone needs to get my bag.”

Cynric points to the table next to the door. “I brought it down.”

How did he realize I needed the bag? I survey the room. He’s got the room bugged. The other man grabs the bag, lugging it back to me. I keep the bag stocked for emergencies, so I reach in and pull out what I need. Raised voices echo in the lobby, and I try to block it out.

The injured man who’s sweating like he’s been in a sauna. “Hi. I’m Izzy. What’s your name?”

The injured man grits his teeth. “Just fix me.”

Cynric growls. “Be polite, Fritz, or I’ll take her away and you can fucking bleed to death.”

The man nods at Cynric with a look of understanding. He turns his attention back to me as I’m pressing cloth into his wound. “I’m Nick.”

“Are you allergic to anything, Nick?”

“No ma’am. Aren’t you going to ask me what happened?”

“You were shot. The bullet is still in your shoulder, and I’m going to have to take it out. I don’t have any pain killers except some lidocaine.”

“Just take it out.”

I put on nitrile gloves and then select a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. I slide the needle into the bottle and draw out the fluid. I place my free hand on the skin next to the wound and inject the needle between my hand and the bullet. “We often don’t remove the bullet, but I figured you’d like to dispose of it, so I’ll take it out. You’ll need to take it easy on the wound. I’m not going to close this up again if you rip out the glue.”

Cynric stands over my shoulder, scrutinizing. “You’re using glue?”

“Yeah. Fibrin glue is excellent for gunshot wounds. He needs to not use the shoulder for two weeks to let it heal.”

Cynric tips his head to the man. “Don’t fuck up the work she’s doing.”

He nods. “Yes, boss.”

I put a gauze pad and tape over the wound and hand the man six gauze pads and a small roll of tape. “Keep it clean and change the bandage after you shower. Don’t stand under the stream.”

Cynric flicks his head to the other man that brought Nick in. “Take him home and go to my father’s house. I’ll be there later.” He picks up the bag and slips his hand on my lower back and leads me to the elevator.

CYNRIC

FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE

I sit in my office gritting my teeth at my two front computer screens showcasing the after-hours trading sites I scrutinize throughout the day. Making money is my addiction. I used to screw every night, and now I stock trade. The blackout curtains in my office help me forget what time of day it is. I never liked people before my accident, but now I just hate them. Movement on my third monitor causes my head to turn. Isabella is patiently instructing her teenage student. That kid is really lucky. She’s a good tutor. I hate math, but with someone like her who makes it seem fun and easy, I might have appreciated learning it. The sound is just loud enough for me to pick up the gentle tone she uses to teach the kid. I focus back on the screens, glancing at finance articles of interest. I’ve made substantial money doing this since my accident. My face and neck irritate me as the memory of my accident creeps into my brain. I rub my scars as I remember the pain. A yell interrupts the memory, and I pivot to the screen with Isabella.

Anton, my enforcer, is screaming. Towering over Isabella as she radiates fear, I have an innate need to get to her and protect her. She sends her student out the door and engages Anton while she puts her stuff into her bag. My phone pings in my hand.

What the fuck? We’ve got a doctor for that. Why the fuck are they bringing him to my building? Anton is out of control. Damn it. I’m up and out of my chair as Anton’s moving across the room. “That fucking asshole is going to die.” I grab her medical bag out of the closet, running into the hall. I hit the button for the elevator, swearing in Russian as I’m gritting my teeth, willing the doors to open and vengeance to begin. The elevator doors open, and I get inside, texting my brother. I stride through the lobby and hear raised voices coming from the conference room. Anton yells, “bitch.”

“I’m going to kill him.” Adrenaline pumps into my body, flooding my soul with rage. Have I ever worried about anyone besides my brothers? Faces scroll through my mind like a video strip of who’s who in my life. Nope. My mind focuses on her face. Isabella. I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again. I barrel through the door and race to Anton, who’s lying prone on the ground. My feet skid to a stop as my little waif stands over him like a conquering queen. “Great job, Isochka.”

Twenty minutes later, Fritz is off to recuperate in his apartment, and I’m lugging Isabella’s medical go-bag. I stash it back into the closet. “Isabella?” I reach for her arm. “You should have told me about Anton.”

She turns with a furrowed brow. “Why?”

“Anything that happens to you is my business.”

Her eyes widen and she offers a small gasp. “Why do men think the best way to control a woman is through fear? It’s not enough to hurt me. You all have to scare me, too.”

My blood pressure rises. Hurt? Scared? “Who the hell hurt you besides Anton?”

Isabella turns and runs down the hall toward her room.

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