Chapter 36 – Poppy
When Kiril said doctor, he meant veterinarian.
When he said clinic, he failed to mention it was a rundown hole in the Redwood Plaza that could easily be mistaken for a pet store.
And when he’d read his phone, he mixed up the names.
I burst through the front doors, blinking in the harsh glare.
“Poppy?” Ivan mumbled. “What are you doing here?”
There’d been a motion propelling me forward, a desperate surge making me rush into the building to find the man I needed very much to be alive. At the sound of his voice, my legs locked. The result was that I stumbled.
A tattooed arm snagged out to catch me.
I braced myself on Ivan’s shoulders, only noticing the bandage when he let out a vicious hiss.
“Oh, shit!” I jumped away.
His fingers caught me.
“I’m sorry,” I gasped, reaching for the wound, but just as quickly drawing my hands back.
Ivan sagged against the wall. “You came.”
I nodded. “I dare you to be mad.”
A smirk wobbled on his lip. “Later. I’ll try…later.”
“Wait, if you’re here…” I waved at the cramped waiting area.
An open door led to the space beyond, a desk and front office area stood off to the side, and bays with treatment areas seemed to be what the shabby stalls were beyond.
Made Men milled about in there.
Bandages and blood decorated their bodies. It was something out of a badly staged Halloween horror house.
“Who went into shock?” I shouted in a hoarse whisper. “Kiril said it was you.”
“No, I texted him that it was Rayko. He’s stable now and getting a blood transfusion.” Ivan pushed off the wall and resumed his seat. He patted the chair next to him.
I sank onto the worn upholstery. “Kiril said you went into shock.”
The idea still bounced through my head. Ivan in danger. Ivan…going into the light. Terror still spiked my veins.
“Speaking of which, where was Kiril?”
“Don’t know.” I shook my head and turned my full attention back to Ivan.
Ivan, who was nursing a bottle of clear liquid. He set the booze down with a grunt.
“Tell me what happened?” I demanded, sliding my hand over his thigh. He didn’t react, didn’t shift under my touch. My fingers were perilously close to his groin, but there was no delicious fizzle of chemistry.
Peering at me through eyes like slits, he seemed to be trying to figure out why exactly I was there.
“Should you really be drinking that?” I snapped when he remained silent.
The kingpin shrugged. “In the old country, this was the only medicine available when on some…special operations.”
“Fine, whatever.” I uncrossed and recrossed my legs. “What happened?”
“We took care of an infestation.” Ivan laughed roughly. The heavy laughter turned into a vicious cough.
I was tempted to rip the bottle from his fingers. But the way his arm was propped, he might jump up and hurt himself worse.
“I want the whole story,” I insisted.
Ivan took a swig. “You sure you can stomach it, princess?”
Princess.
Damn right, that was what he’d better call me. I was one, born the daughter of a don and now living with another boss with the full intention of marrying him and staying by his side.
If he lives….
He would. He had to.
But how many more nights would pass like this? What if we did grow our family, only for me to wake up and find it was Ivan battling for life, not one of his most trusted men? The thought was enough to have me digging my fingers into his thighs.
Ivan reluctantly passed it over and began the story. It came out in slurred, broken English. But I gathered enough information to paint a chilling scene, worse than anything on the silver screen, in my mind.
It was a wonder Ivan was alive.
By the time he finished, I was shaking. “Here,” he said gruffly, passing the bottle over.
My fingers slipped, and I almost didn’t catch it.
“Watch it!” he wheezed.
I gave him a grimace and tipped it back. Pure hellfire roared down my throat. That shit was vile. Disgusting! I choked.
And then took another pull.
“Your arm?” I forced myself to look at the bandage. The wrappings were stark white compared to the tanned flesh littered with ink on his bare chest.
“Just buck shot,” Ivan huffed. “One of the pellets hit a nerve. Doc thinks it will heal just fine.”
Thank the heavens. I let out a long breath.
Scooting onto the chair, I laid my head on his good shoulder, needing the skin-to-skin connection. Ivan shifted to tuck me under his arm. His fingers gently tangled in my hair, stroking and brushing it absently.
“You’re going to run,” he decided.
“No, I’m not.” I’m going to stay.
Ivan didn’t believe me. He sighed. “You want a world where this kind of thing doesn’t happen.”
The confession fell from my lips. “I want a world with you.”
“Tonight was a close call,” he argued.
I nodded. “It was. But if there’s a time where you leave us, I don’t want the days between now and then to be spent apart.”
Ivan shivered.
I rose. Already the booze was making my legs tingle. Wine I could handle. But the hard stuff? I was practically a lightweight. Hurrying to the partition, I leaned over the receptionist desk to see one of the Made Men lounging in the office chair.
“Find me a blanket,” I ordered.
The soldier jumped, gave me a frightened, wide-eyed look, and took off.
I didn’t even make it back to the seat when he came with a thick, stiff wool throw. I took it from him and gently laid it around Ivan’s shoulders.
Those black eyes turned up to me. They were unguarded. Vulnerable. My chest squeezed tight. I brushed my hand over his head, ignoring the sticky, sweaty feel of his hair, and pressed my lips to his brow.
“I’ve got you,” I promised.
Ivan shuddered. “Thank you.”
I murmured and continued to stroke him, giving him physical reassurance, since my words didn’t seem to convince him.
“You can see him,” Kiril said, popping into the doorframe.
Ivan sighed and pushed to his feet. He was unsteady. I shot a look to Kiril, who was there in a heartbeat, offering Ivan his arm.
The kingpin batted it away.
I rolled my eyes. “Either you lean on him, or we stay out here.”
Ivan squinted at me. “Are you always this bossy?”
Humor twitched on my lip. “Only when occasion calls.”
“I was wrong about you,” he muttered. He held out his hand to me, shoving Kiril aside.
I gripped him tight. The look I gave the soldier was a silent communication that he’d better not wander away.
Stay close, I mouthed.
Kiril nodded.
But Ivan didn’t need support. His hand was a connection to mine, not a crutch. He held me as though he were scared I’d vanish, not because he couldn’t support himself.
“In here,” Kiril said, pushing open a door to a private operating room. Or, at least, that was what I assumed the space was. It could easily be a grooming area. Probably doubling as both.
Rayko was sprawled over the Formica platform. His leg was braced but not in a cast. There was a vivid green hue to his otherwise pale skin. He looked decades older.
Ivan snorted. “He’s looked better.”
I gaped at his dry humor.
“What?” Ivan smirked down at me. “He’s also looked worse.”
Kiril laughed behind us.
“Fuck off,” Rayko grumbled in Bulgarian.
At least he felt well enough to joke.
Ivan pulled me into his side. Our hands stayed locked, and he bent to kiss my cheek. “I’m sorry we worried you, flower.”
I was about to tell him it was okay. That this was par for the course. I expected this if I was truly going to be a mobster’s wife.
But Ivan added something else. “I will prove that you’re safe here. That our boy is safe here. I know a way, and I’ll prove it before you marry me.”
The serious tone sent my gaze searching his. Determination replaced the uncertainty from earlier. It was fierce, glistening black like a polished stone. It stole my breath. Something sacred, a promise between our souls, passed between us.
All I could do was nod. Because saying something like “Okay, Ivan” or “Sure, prove yourself” was too weak, too mundane for the feeling.