11. Lev
Chapter eleven
Lev
My phone ringing wakes me up from a restless sleep. It’s the ringtone I programmed for Nikolai. Instantly, I’m on edge, adrenaline thundering through my veins, heart racing.
I answer it as quickly as I can.
Something must be seriously wrong.
I don’t even get a greeting out before he’s barking down the line at me. “Roman’s been hit. Mik has the guy. I need you to get down to Iron Craft and help me with retrieval.”
Fuck! Tatiana’s date. “Tati?”
“She’s fine. At the hospital with Roman. They’re taking him in for surgery.”
I’m on my feet.
Fuck.
Shit.
Fuck!
“I’m there,” I say, hanging up. I throw on my riding gear and am out of our apartment in seconds. It’s not until I throw my leg over my bike and the engine roars to life that I’m even able to process what Nikolai said.
Someone tried to shoot Tatiana.
Roman took a bullet for her.
Mikhail went after the shooter.
Jesus.
My stomach is hollowed out as I speed through the streets of Baltimore.
I have to admit to myself that I never really thought she was in any real danger.
I always looked out for danger or suspicious people, did my job as a bodyguard, but the Chernovs aren’t at war that I know of, and she’s just a girl.
A girl I could’ve lost today if Roman wasn’t there.
I struggle to swallow around uncomfortable emotions.
I know I’m annoying and flippant on a good day, but what would have happened if she’d been shot?
If she’d really been killed? I can’t imagine a world without her in it.
She’s the light in every room she walks into.
She’s too pure and too good for the mafia life.
I could have lost her without ever telling her how I feel. Without ever tasting those lips. Without ever seeing her get her happily ever-after.
I grip the handlebars tighter and rev the engine, unwilling to sit with those feelings and thoughts. When one wrong move could mean crashing and never seeing her again, anyway, I am forced to focus on the road and the cars around me.
When I finally slow to turn into the alley that will lead me to the back of the restaurant, my chest is heaving.
I don’t know how to be who she needs. I don’t know how to give her what she deserves. I’m a fuckup, and her brother’s best friend. I’m a loser with a life sentence. But the selfish asshole that I am, I know I’m going to want her, anyway.
I channel my anger and throw open the back door to the kitchen area of the restaurant. Mikhail is standing against a prep table, still covered in ingredients and dishes in various stages of prep.
On the ground below him is a skinny, greasy-looking man, balding on top, but what he can grow, he’s let grow long. He’s on the floor, his hands tied behind him and his feet tied at the ankles with what looks like aprons Mik must have gotten from the staff.
I sneer.
This mother fucker almost killed Tatiana. My Tatiana.
I don’t hesitate; in three strides I’m over the guy and kicking him hard in the gut. Three times. Mik winces. He’s not one for violence. But I’m glad he caught the guy.
I’m shaking too damn hard to do anything productive. At least not here.
“Roman drive here?”
Mik nods.
“Alright, I’ll get it and bring it around back. We’ll take him to the basement.” The Chernov mansion has a partially finished basement where we can do interrogations without anyone hearing. Or, if they do, they’re smart enough to turn the opposite direction.
I walk through the front of the restaurant, past the destruction and the pool of blood. Fuck. I might not call Roman a friend, but I admire and respect the fuck out of the guy. I really hope he pulls through. For me. For him. For Tati. Because she’d never forgive herself if he died protecting her.
I find the truck, key in the keyless entry and hot-wire it, driving it around to the back, where Mik has dragged the fucker. It’s satisfying to see the little bit of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth.
I hook my arm under the guy’s shoulder and haul him to his feet, lifting the tailgate and shoving him in roughly, slamming it back down and hoping I catch a finger or two in the latch.
“I’ll drop you off at the hospital. She’s going to want you.”
Mik only nods and pulls himself up into the passenger seat of the SUV.
Tati and he couldn’t be more different - her with her pretty clothes and hair and makeup, and him with his baggy clothes, tats, and piercings.
He never shows any skin, but there are places on his neck and wrists where the hint of tattoos shows up.
His ears are gaged slightly, his eyebrow pierced with a ring, and he has snakebite piercings in his lower lip.
In fact, it’s one of the few times they’re not attached at the hip - when he goes to the gym, shower, or tattoo parlor.
I drop him off at the hospital with a two-finger wave and drive to the Chernov mansion.