10. Maxim
Chapter 10
Maxim
W hen I open my eyes, the darkness causes my whole body to freeze. I whisper Talia’s name, but my head is no longer in her lap, and her hands aren’t lightly stroking my hair and face like she loves to do. I try to sit, letting out a groan when pain shoots through my hand and up my arm. It’s not nearly as intense as it has been, and it takes me a second to realize I’m on a soft bed and not the hard cement floor.
“Max?”
I turn at the sound of my mom’s voice right before the light comes on and she throws her arms around me, hugging me tightly while also being careful of my hand. She sobs and kisses my head, and soon my dad and brother are on my other side, and I’m surrounded by the family I was convinced I’d never see again.
“I was so scared,” my mom whispers as she tries to get control of herself. She cups my face, running her eyes over me, convincing herself that I really am okay.
I look up at my dad and brother. “How did I get here?”
My dad ruffles Niki’s hair and gives him a proud grin. “We went to Colombia and got you.”
“Niki, you went, too?” I ask.
My younger brother tries to hide his smile, but I can see how proud he is. “I just stayed on the boat.”
“He did a lot more than that,” our dad says. “We couldn’t have done it without him.”
I look around at the hospital room I’m in, trying not to show how disoriented I still am. “Where’s Talia?”
“Tony’s taking care of her at Dominic’s,” my dad says.
My chest feels tight at not having her with me. This is the first time we’ve been apart in weeks, and it doesn’t feel right. I look down at my hand, but it’s bandaged, and I can’t see how bad it is. My mom grabs my good hand and squeezes it.
“We have the best orthopedic surgeon in the state on his way to see you. They’ve already done x-rays, but they’re waiting for the specialist before they do anything else.”
“Jesus, what the hell was I on? How did I sleep through all this?” I ask, trying to piece together everything that happened. “I remember my hand, and I remember Talia taking care of me afterwards. I think she gave me some aspirin, but that wouldn’t have knocked me out like this.”
“You had Rohypnol in your system,” my dad says. “The bottle said morphine, but Tony knew it had to be something stronger than that when you didn’t wake up during the flight back.”
“Jesus,” I groan. “That explains it, I guess.”
My dad gives me a slight grin and says, “Also, your hand was crushed when you were helping your cousin work on his car.”
I look up at him. “I’m filthy on a level that I didn’t even know was possible, I crushed my hand while working on a car, and someone slipped me the date-rape drug. This is the story we’re going with?”
My dad shrugs. “They can’t prove it didn’t happen, and I told them it was a prescription you got in Russia. You were having really bad insomnia, so you took one at night, but it made your reflexes slow the next day. You fucked up your hand when you couldn’t pull it away in time. It’s not the greatest excuse, but this is a private hospital, and I’ve already made it clear I’ll be giving them a huge donation. They’re not going to make waves. They want the money too badly to do that.”
Before I can ask any more questions, there’s a slight knock on the door. The man who enters is probably mid-fifties, tall and thin with dark glasses that remind me of Tony’s. That’s the only similarity he shares with the much younger Alessi doctor, though.
“Hi, I’m Dr. Frost.” He glances around the room, nodding at my parents before putting his focus on me. “You must be Maxim?”
“That’s me,” I say. I use my left hand to point at the useless right one. “You think you can fix this, Doc?”
He comes closer and takes a better look at my hand. “I want a CT scan and an MRI to get a better idea of the damage involved.” He pulls back and meets my eyes again. “I heard this happened from some sort of accident while you were working on a car.”
“Yeah, turns out I’m not a good mechanic,” I say with a shrug, knowing he’s not buying a word of my bullshit. “If you can fix my hand, I’ll just stick with the piano.”
Before he puts the topic to rest, he asks, “Are you sure there isn’t something you want to tell me about all this?” His eyes linger on my filthy hair and still-healing face, and I can’t help but let out a soft laugh.
“I’ve been camping for the last week with my cousin. I know I look a wreck, but I can assure you I’m taking a shower as soon as I’m allowed to.”
“It’ll probably be a bath,” he warns me, “but first let’s see how much damage we’re dealing with.” He turns to my parents and says, “I’m going to get a wheelchair so we can get the scans done. Once I see them, I can decide if surgery is needed.”
“Will he be able to play again?” my mom asks, voicing the question I’d been too afraid to ask.
Dr. Frost gives nothing away. “Let’s wait and see what the scans show first.”
She comes over and kisses my head, not even slightly deterred by how filthy I am. My entire family has matching dark circles under our eyes, and we’ve all lost weight. The last several weeks have been rough on all of us, and I’m still trying to adjust to my very newfound freedom when the nurse comes in with a wheelchair. The doctor deems me fully hydrated, and I’m allowed to be unhooked from the IV. It’s the first time my hands haven’t been bound or attached to something since I was taken. My mind keeps straying to Talia, wondering how she’s doing, worried she won’t want to see me again now that we’re free, and missing her so badly it’s a physical ache in my chest.
Over the next hour, I’m rolled around the hospital and my hand is put through one machine after another. Even with the painkillers they’ve been giving me, the pain is immense when anything touches my fingers, but whatever the scans show seems to please my new doctor.
Once we’re all back in my room, he says, “I won’t need to do surgery to repair any ligament or tendon damage, which is very good news, and none of the bones are broken.”
My mom squeezes my good hand and lets out a relieved breath while I wait for whatever else he’s about to say.
“The bad news is that I do need to realign each dislocated joint. We’ll numb your entire arm for it, but the sooner we can realign your fingers, the better.”
“Fantastic,” I say, not looking forward to having my fingers touched in any way.
“I know,” my doctor says, not even slightly put out by my sarcasm. “You’ll feel better after we get you numbed up. Once your fingers are back in alignment and I’ve got you wrapped up, you can go home and rest.”
All I want is to take a shower and see Talia again, and if this is what I need to do to make that happen, then I’m more than ready to get it out of the way.
The doctor looks at my parents and says, “This room is set up for minor procedures, so I’m comfortable doing it in here if you are.”
“Sounds good to me,” my dad says. “I’d rather be here in case he needs us anyway.”
My mom nods her agreement while Niki looks at my hand, practically wincing at the sight of it.
“It looks worse than it is,” I try to tell him, but he just raises a brow at me, not buying my bullshit for a second.
A nurse steps in to help, and when they cut my sweatshirt off me, I feel a twinge of embarrassment at how dirty I am. The sweatshirt was filthy, but at least it was a barrier of some kind. There’s no hiding how in need I am of a shower now, though, and all I can do is give a soft laugh and say, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t planning on coming in here like this.”
No one laughs at my attempt at humor, and when I look up, I realize it’s because they’re all staring at my exposed upper body. I’d gotten so used to having the shit kicked out of me by Miguel that I’d completely forgotten about how bad I must look.
“That’s one hell of a camping trip,” Dr. Frost says, running his eyes over the dark bruises that cover my ribs and abs. They circle around to my back, but at least that part is hidden for the moment. “I also couldn’t help but notice that you have some fading bruises on your face and a cut along your eyebrow that needed stitches but never got any. Want to tell me what’s really going on here?”
I grin and give a soft laugh. “I know this looks bad, and I’m hesitant to admit it because it embarrasses me, but I had a bit of a falling out with a group of friends, and they kicked my ass.” I give another laugh and shrug in a what the fuck are you gonna do kind of way. “It’s over and done with, and I refuse to press charges or name names. I’m healing, even though I still look like shit, and I’d rather just put it all behind me.”
Dr. Frost looks like he wants to argue. I can almost hear the internal debate going on in his head. He could push this, make a big deal out of it, but in the end he knows it wouldn’t amount to shit. He knows I won’t say a word to the police, and all it’ll do is waste time and ensure he doesn’t see a dime of that huge donation my dad promised them. In the end, common sense wins out, and he gives a nod to the nurse, letting her know she should continue.
Proving she’s a professional through and through, the older nurse waves away my embarrassment about my appearance and gives me a big smile. “Don’t worry about a thing, hon. I used to work in the ER during the weekends. Trust me, I’ve seen and smelled way worse. This is nothing a bar of soap can’t fix.”
I give a soft laugh. “I might need two bars for this job.”
She gives me a friendly wink. “And a shave.”
“I think his camping days are behind him,” my dad tells her. “You’re more of a city boy, aren’t you, Max?”
“Definitely,” I agree. “I’m done roughing it. I want hot showers and food that can be delivered right to my doorstep.”
“I can’t argue with that,” the doctor says, getting things ready as another man in scrubs walks into the room, wheeling a portable ultrasound machine. He introduces himself as the anesthesiologist and wastes no time getting to work. I’m laid on my back with a small cushion under my shoulders. He cleans the entire area around my clavicle and neck with antiseptic while he explains the procedure to me. Apparently, I’m going to be numb from my shoulder to my fingers, and I can’t fucking wait.
He turns my head, exposing the side of my neck, and says, “This might sting a bit,” right before he administers a local anesthetic about midway between my neck and shoulder. The needle is small and it’s a minor sting at most.
“Doing okay?” he asks.
“So far, so good,” I tell him.
“Okay, good, because that was the easy part.”
With my head turned, I can’t see what he’s doing, but I’m guessing he’s preparing a much bigger needle. Anything that requires a pre-numbing shot isn’t going to be pleasant. I hear him wheel the ultrasound machine closer, and then the cool touch of the probe against my skin. The entire area isn’t numb, but I’m hoping it’s at least enough to take the brunt of what’s about to happen. I’m sick and tired of feeling pain, and the promise of a full-arm numbing makes me want to weep with gratitude.
“This needle is a bit bigger,” he says, and when I let out a soft laugh, he adds, “maybe a lot bigger. Just relax, though. It’ll be over in a sec.”
He explains that he’s using the ultrasound probe to find the nerve bundle so he can administer the anesthetic solution around it.
“Found it,” he murmurs, and a few seconds later, I hear, “Here we go, Max. Hang in there for just a bit longer.”
I smile at the way he’s talking to me, like I’m a child who needs reassuring. If he knew half the things I’ve done and seen, he’d be appalled and probably not so eager to help. When he slides the needle in, I feel a sensation of pressure that I wouldn’t call painful, but it sure as hell isn’t pleasant either. A tingling feeling shoots down my arm, and then he’s pulling the syringe out and telling me it’s all over.
“You should feel a warming sensation, and in fifteen to twenty minutes, your entire arm will be numb,” he tells me, already gathering up his equipment.
“How long will it last,” I ask him, turning my head to see him, already feeling the warmth run along my skin.
“It could last up to twenty-four hours,” he says, and he must see the relief on my face because he pats my shoulder and gives me a smile before he leaves the room with the others, waiting until my arm is numb and they can continue.
My dad helps me get the hospital bed back up so I’m sitting, and with each passing minute, I feel my body grow a little more relaxed as the pain slowly starts to fade away until it’s gone completely. It’s euphoric to not be able to feel my hand, and I can’t help but grin.
“I hope it stays numb for days,” I say, and my dad laughs while my mom gives me a worried smile and pats my leg.
“Surely they’ll give you some good pain meds,” Niki says. “If not, Tony can.”
“He can just roofie you,” my dad teases. “That seemed to do the trick.”
“I’d rather not pass out again,” I say.
When the doctor and nurse come back in, my family steps off to the side so they’re not in the way. I think Dr. Frost would prefer it if they left, but my dad’s body language is making it clear that isn’t going to happen. I’d feel the same way if it were my son, so I don’t bother arguing about it.
“Are you feeling completely numb?” Dr. Frost asks. He sets my hand on a padded, flat table that’s covered in a sterile draping. I don’t feel anything as he puts my hand where he wants it and starts to gently feel around. It’s surreal and unpleasant. I’m usually so in tune with my hands, and now it’s like watching him touch someone else. My mind keeps yelling at me that this should hurt, but my body isn’t reacting at all to what I know must be excruciating.
“I don’t feel anything,” I tell him.
“Good. That’s exactly how we want you for this.” He waits for the nurse to come around and grab onto my wrist before he says, “I’m going to get your fingers back to how they should be. I’ll do it one finger at a time. Okay?”
“Sounds good,” I tell him.
I have no idea what to expect, but when he grips my index finger and starts to pull, I wince at the sickening crunch I hear, even though it doesn’t hurt. There’s a clunking sort of sound that makes my doctor grin when he hears it.
“One down,” he says. “Three more to go.”
“I think I might wait outside,” I hear my mom say. I look up, noticing that she’s gone very pale and is looking very sick. “I’ll be right outside if you need me, honey.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” I tell her. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s always the sound that gets people,” Dr. Frost says. “The visual is bad enough, but it’s the sounds that usually do it.”
“She lasted longer than most,” the nurse says. “We’ve had several moms pass out.”
“My mom’s pretty tough,” I say, watching as he pulls on my next finger, manhandling it back to where he wants it. He’s right about the noises. The grinding sound is bad enough, but it’s the audible pops that make me cringe every time I hear them. I’m going to have nightmares about that fucking sound.
It takes about thirty minutes for the doctor to work his way through my right hand, but finally my fingers are all pointed in the right direction again. They look like shit, but they’re at least straight. Before he splints them, he has me do one more scan to make sure everything looks good, and then my hand is carefully wrapped up. A splint is put on my hand, immobilizing each finger while leaving my thumb free. My fingers are wrapped in soft padding and secured with a special tape, and the whole thing keeps them slightly bent instead of forcing them straight. When he’s satisfied, my entire hand is wrapped in an elastic bandage, leaving nothing but my thumb and the very tips of my fingers visible.
“This will allow blood flow and prevent any further damage,” Dr. Frost tells me.
I look down at the bulky monstrosity that is my hand and ask, “How long do I have to wear this?”
“Here’s the fun part,” he says, scooting back on his stool while the nurse gathers the extra supplies. “This will stay as is for fourteen days. I want to see you three times a week to make sure the alignment is perfect and that the swelling is going down. After that, we’ll get more x-rays and do some tweaking with the splints. I’ll be bringing a hand therapist on board immediately. He has a lot of experience with musicians. You’re in good hands, Max. We’re all going to do everything we can to get you fixed up and playing again.”
“Thanks, Doc,” I tell him.
He stands back up and pats my leg. “Rest as much as you can. I’m giving you a prescription for painkillers, and stop working on cars.” Eyeing my hand, he adds, “You’re obviously no good at it. And, Max,” he says, waiting for me to meet his eyes, “maybe don’t piss anyone else off.”
I give a soft laugh. “Sure thing, Doc.”
My dad shakes his hand, thanking him again before he leaves and my mom comes back in.
She gives me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t take the noise.”
My dad wraps an arm around her and kisses her head. “Don’t apologize, sladkaya . No one expected you to sit through that. You’ve been through enough.”
“Can we please leave? I’m dying for a bath,” I say.
My dad helps me into a clean shirt and then gets me checked out so we can leave. I want to see everyone and thank them for coming to get me, but I can’t do anything until I’m clean. My need to scrub off this filth is overpowering. I’d gotten to where I could ignore it in the basement, but that’s because I knew I didn’t have a choice and that to focus on it would result in a slow descent into insanity. But now that a shower is literally within reach, it’s all I can fucking think about.
They insist I stay with them while I heal, and as soon as we step into the apartment, I head for the bathroom.
“You sure you don’t need help?” my dad asks. “Your Uncle Vitaly had to bathe Val when he got back. There’s no shame in it, son.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I’ll be sure and ask him about that. I’ll be fine, Dad. I’ll take a one-handed bath. It’ll be awesome.”
Turns out it isn’t awesome at all, and after several minutes of trying to manhandle the spray nozzle with my non-dominant hand while keeping the other fully dry and away from the water, I give up and yell for my brother. Niki walks in a few minutes later, and without a word, grabs the nozzle and motions for me to sit up. He wets my hair and then dumps a generous amount of shampoo on my head.
“Jesus, you’re filthy,” he finally says, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” I agree, hanging my arm over the side and resigning myself to the fact that I’m going to need help until I can get the hang of things. While he scrubs the dirt from my hair, I say, “Tell me everything,” and he does. While he rinses my hair and then starts in on a second shampooing, he tells me all about my family’s relentless pursuit in trying to find us, Yelena’s miscarriage scare, Val’s return, and then, finally, every detail of the rescue mission that I was completely unconscious for, including Sasha’s rescue of a dog.
“Did you see Talia?” I ask after he’s finished and we’re draining the tub for the second time.
“I did. Dad said when he first found you, she was guarding your body, ready to kill anyone who came near you. She’d already killed some guard, stabbed him right in the fucking neck.”
My chest aches at knowing how scared she must’ve been, but a surge of pride also fills me. I’m not at all surprised that she was able to do it; I just hate that she had to.
“Her family is pretty intense.” He stands to get me a towel. “One of her brothers is one hell of a shot.”
“ Tikhiy D’yavol ,” I say.
“She told you about him?”
“Yeah, she told me all about her family. We had a lot of time to talk,” I say with a slight grin. “Not much else to do while you’re chained up. She’s very close to her family. She told me that her family adopted Bran when they were both three. They’ve kind of been inseparable ever since.”
Niki hands me the towel as I stand up. “Well, don’t piss him off. He could literally shoot you from anywhere, I think.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I tell him, holding the towel around my waist as I step out of the tub.
“You need help with anything else?”
“I think I can manage the rest,” I tell him. “Thanks, Niki, for everything.”
He grins and nods his head. “You’re my brother, Max. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“I do, and I’d do the same for you.” I give him another smile. “Don’t get kidnapped, though, because you know I’m shit with computers.”
He laughs, giving me another grin before leaving me alone in the bathroom. When I get my first real look at myself in the mirror, I’m stunned by what I see. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize it was quite this bad. I already knew about the bruising, but I hadn’t realized how much weight I’d lost until seeing myself in the full-length mirror. The unkempt, scruffy beard isn’t helping, and the embarrassment at having Talia see me like this is all too real.
With a frustrated groan, I push my worries away and manage to very clumsily pull on a pair of boxer briefs and sweats. I then spend the next several minutes brushing my teeth, nearly moaning in ecstasy at the sweet, clean taste I’m left with. Knowing there’s no way in hell I’ll be able to shave with my left hand, I decide to use an electric shaver and at least get down to a light stubble. That I can live with, but I can’t take another minute of the wild scruff I’m now sporting.
When I leave the bathroom, I feel like a new man. My family is waiting in the kitchen, and I’m not at all surprised to see my mom’s already prepared a huge plate of food for me.
“Thanks, Mom,” I tell her, sitting at the island, my mouth watering at the sight of the grilled chicken and vegetables she’s put before me. It might not be the greasy hamburger and fries I’ve been craving, but it’ll be a lot easier on my stomach after going so long without a proper meal.
“How are you feeling?” She pours me a glass of water and studies me while I take another bite. I know she sees more than just the bruises and cuts, and I know that’s not what she’s asking about.
“I’m fine,” I tell her once I’ve swallowed.
She doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go. My dad comes to stand next to her when she says, “I didn’t get a chance to meet Talia because we rushed you to the hospital, but we owe her a lot from what I’ve heard.”
“So do I. She saved my life. Where is she?”
“They were going to stay with your Uncle Roman,” my dad says, but then my mom quickly adds, “But we invited them to stay here instead.”
Whatever she sees on my face has her grinning. “We want to get to know them better, and we thought you might like it better if she were here.”
“I would, thanks.” I take another bite, resisting the urge to ask a million questions about when exactly they’ll be here and what Tony said after looking her over. When I’ve eaten all I can, my dad helps me into a T-shirt and the sling the doctor gave me to support my arm. He wants me to keep it as immobilized as possible, and I’m game for anything that’ll help protect it from getting hit or bumped into.
“Still completely numb?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him, grateful for every second of it.
My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes it. “I heard how you saved her, how you chose to let them do this to you to spare her from being raped.” He lets out a breath, and I can hear the raw emotion in it. “I’m so fucking proud of you, son. I know what it cost you to do that.”
“It was never a choice, Dad. I would’ve done anything to protect her.”
He nods and cups the back of my head, pulling me in for a hug. “I felt the same way about your mom as soon as I saw her.” He gives a soft laugh and adds, “When you know, you know. We’ve never had to play nice with another Bratva. This should be interesting.”
“At least there’s the length of a country between us,” I say. “That’ll give you all a nice buffer.”
He laughs and pulls back. “We might need it. Not me, of course, but you know how my brothers are.” Before he turns away, he says, “Did you hear about Sasha’s dog?”
“Yeah, Niki told me. I can’t believe he did that,” I say with a laugh. “He killed a shit-ton of men that night, and apparently Mateo’s mom, but it’s the sound of a dog whining that makes him hesitate?”
“In his defense, he’s a really cute dog. Tony was able to remove the bullet and get him stitched up. Last I heard Sasha was spoiling him rotten while they waited for him to get another round of antibiotics. He’s no longer trying to bite Sasha, but everyone else seems to be fair game.”
I laugh at the image. “A match made in Heaven. It’s like he’s found his spirit animal.”
My dad laughs and nods in agreement. “He’ll love that.”
“They just pulled up,” Niki says, walking over with his phone in his hand. “Timofey’s getting them into the elevator now.”
I don’t typically get nervous, but I am now. On one level, Talia and I have experienced a closeness that most people never do, but our relationship was born in the most unlikely of circumstances, and now a thousand worries are rushing through my head. It’s possible she latched onto me because she was scared and needed someone, and I was there to be that support for her. I wouldn’t blame her for it, and I’ll always be grateful I could be that comfort for her, but, fuck, I hope that’s not all this was to her, because I meant what I said in that basement. I love this woman, and I don’t plan on letting her go.
“Volodya and his sons are staying with your Uncle Lev, and Valeri and his son, god help us, are staying with your Uncle Vitaly,” my dad says. “We’ll be keeping Vasily and his family here for as long as they want to stay.”
Knowing I’m only seconds away from seeing her has my heart jumping in my chest. Forcing myself to get a fucking grip, I take a breath and wait, each second feeling like an hour. I’ve never been more nervous. I’m scared to death that when I see her, she won’t look at me the same way she looked at me in the basement. The thought of her putting distance between us sends a pain to my chest.
“Almost here,” Niki says, looking at the security footage on his phone.
Unable to resist, I look at the screen, and my heart both grows and crumbles at the sight of her. Like me, she’s had a shower and is in a fresh pair of clothes. Despite how dirty we’d both been, I’d thought she was gorgeous in that basement. I didn’t think it was possible for her to look even more beautiful, but with her freshly scrubbed face and high ponytail, she’s proven me wrong.
With my heart racing faster than it ever has, I turn towards the elevator and wait for the doors to open.