14. Dimitri
DIMITRI
T he van pulled up into a parking spot right next to the other vehicle that had delivered the eight soldiers to the same downtown Los Angeles high-rise building.
Dimitri had committed the license plate number to memory, so there was no mistaking it for a van that just looked the same.
It had gotten there earlier, probably because the other van's driver didn't need to be careful about lab equipment being jostled around the back, or to try to calm down Petrov, who was a real pain in the ass because not only was he injured, but he was also suffering from alcohol withdrawal jitters.
Thankfully, Anita had taken charge of him, so Dimitri didn't have to and could enjoy the ride from the clan's airstrip to the heart of the city with his arm draped over Mattie's shoulders.
"Finally," Petrov said. "I need a shower, a bed, and a bottle of vodka, and I don't care in which order."
"Oh, Konstantin," Anita said in a chiding tone. "I'm sure that you are not thinking about getting in bed without showering. We are all stinky and sweaty. And no vodka. You are recovering from a serious injury."
"No good deed goes unpunished," Petrov muttered under his breath. "I save you, and you boss me around."
She pouted. "I'm taking care of you because you don't care for yourself."
The woman had infinite patience, but taking Petrov on as a case was too ambitious even for a saint.
Two men walked up to the van as Dimitri got out, and even though they weren't wearing anything to distinguish them from civilians, it was obvious they were Guardians from the way they carried themselves.
He'd watched these immortals in the submarine, and even though they were physically similar to the Brotherhood soldiers, there was something about them that was markedly different, and he had no trouble distinguishing them from the other type of immortal fighters.
It was in their expressions, their bearing, the way they looked at each other and at the civilians they had just rescued.
It was almost as if they had 'Good Guys' tattooed on their foreheads.
"Welcome to the keep," the taller one said. "I'm Arran." He offered a hand to Dimitri.
"Doctor Dimitri Volkov." He shook the male's hand.
When Arran continued to shake hands with Mattie, the other Guardian introduced himself. "I'm Rhys. Arran and I are here to help with the equipment."
Behind him, Dimitri heard Petrov grunting as he maneuvered himself out of the van.
"You're hurt," Rhys said. "Let me help you." He offered Petrov a hand.
"I'm not an invalid," Petrov grumbled but took the offered hand anyway, pressing his other one against his side.
The moment his feet touched the concrete, he let go of the Guardian and immediately swayed, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the van.
Anita was next to him in an instant, sliding under his arm with her usual ease. "Lean on me, Konstantin. Not on your pride."
"I can't lean on something that is structurally unsound."
Mattie chuckled, leaning against Dimitri's side. "At least he still has his sense of humor."
"There is nothing humorous about my situation," Petrov grumbled. "I'm just stating the facts. I have no pride left."
"At the moment." Anita adjusted her grip, taking more of his weight than she let on. "You will have it shored up soon enough."
Petrov didn't even try to fight her. He was either in really bad shape or had given up on arguing with Anita.
The man had taken a bullet clean through the flank during the extraction, in and out without hitting anything vital.
Julian had patched him up, but Petrov had lost a lot of blood, and a wound like that meant a lot of pain and a long recovery time, especially for someone who hadn't been in great shape to begin with.
"The equipment is in the back," Dimitri said. "There's a lot of it, and some of it is fragile. Please handle it carefully."
"We'll treat it like it's made of glass," Arran said. "We will just put it in place for you to unpack later."
"One thing." Dimitri held up a hand. "The refrigeration unit needs to be carried right side up and as level as you can manage, and to be connected to power as soon as possible." He walked with Rhys to the back of the van and showed him which of the boxes contained the refrigerator.
"Consider it done." Rhys pulled out a pen and marked the box.
"Thank you."
Dimitri had calculated how many hours the compounds inside that unit had before their stability started to degrade, and they were cutting it dangerously close.
"Do you need our help?" their driver asked.
"We've got it covered, Robbie," Arran said. "Your job is to get our guests settled in the penthouse."
They were led inside through a door that was labeled as maintenance, continued to a bank of elevators, but didn't stop there. Robbie and Callan took them around to another elevator.
"This one goes straight to the penthouse," Robbie said as he pressed his palm to the scanner.
"There is food waiting for you up there," Callan said as they waited. "Also fresh clothes, so you can shower and change."
"Speaking of." Anita shifted her hold on Petrov. "He needs his bandage changed. Do you have medical supplies?"
"All taken care of," Robbie said. "Julian called ahead. Told us exactly what to get."
Julian had patched up Petrov's wound and had taken care of him until they landed in the clan's airstrip. From there, the physician went with the chests to the immortals' village, leaving Anita to take care of Petrov's recovery.
"Thank you," she said.
Mattie winced and shifted her weight to her other foot, which meant that her legs were cramping.
She'd been sitting for too many hours, and hadn't done her stretching exercises, either because she'd been too exhausted or embarrassed to do them in front of the Guardians.
That her right hand was cradled against her stomach indicated that it was hurting as well.
It was mostly healed, and despite having been mercilessly crushed by an immortal's boot, it looked whole again.
She hadn't regained full range of motion yet, though, and probably never would.
She caught him looking and smiled. "I'm just tired. A shower and proper bed will do me wonders." She flexed her fingers experimentally, wincing again when the motion cost her. "The bones and ligaments have healed, but the pain receptors didn't get the memo yet."
He wanted to ease her pain, and he hoped that the clan would provide him with what he needed to produce more of the salve he'd prepared for her legs before.
They entered the elevator, and as soon as the doors closed, it shot up, not stopping anywhere on the way as Robbie had promised.
The display didn't show any of the floor numbers they were passing, so Dimitri couldn't tell how high up the penthouse was, and, given that they had arrived after dark, he couldn't estimate the high-rise's height.
As the elevator came to a soft stop, the doors opened into a vestibule that made all four of them gape.
A round granite table dominated the center of the space, its surface reflecting the intricate mosaic patterns inlaid in the marble floor, and atop it stood an enormous vase overflowing with vibrant fresh flowers.
"Look at this." Petrov made a low sound of appreciation. "It's a palace."
"You are getting the royal treatment," Robbie said, pushing open one of the two sets of doors. "This used to be Kian's residence, and across the vestibule is the one that used to be Amanda's. Now that they have homes in the village, we use these penthouses to host important guests."
By now, Dimitri knew who Kian was but not who Amanda was.
"Are we important?" Mattie asked.
"Very," Callan said.
Dimitri didn't know whether he really meant it or was joking. He didn't know many Americans, and he wasn't familiar with their sense of humor.
The living room was even more impressive than the entrance.
Leather couches, the kind that looked expensive just by the sheer size of them.
Those weren't apartment-sized. The Persian rug that somehow didn't look out of place in all the contemporary decor, and the original modern art on the walls, looked like they cost more than Dimitri had earned throughout his life.
Still, none of it, not the furniture, not the art, and not the rug, could compete with what lay beyond.
An entire wall of glass spanned from floor to ceiling, and beyond it was a terrace with a lap pool.
Loungers and small tables were arranged in intentional groupings, planters were spilling over with greenery, and past all of that, spread out beneath a warm night's sky, the lights of Los Angeles stretched to the horizon.
The four of them drifted toward the glass, and one of the Guardians must have remotely activated the sliding doors because they opened soundlessly.
Warm air rolled in, carrying the city's distant hum, and Dimitri stepped out onto the terrace with Mattie's good hand in his.
They stood there for a long moment, letting it settle over them.
It smelled like nothing in particular, warm concrete and chlorine and live plants, and it was one of the best things he had smelled in a very long time.
"Come inside when you're ready," Callan said, from behind them. "We'll show you your rooms."
"Let's go." Mattie tugged on his hand. "We can come back to the terrace later."
"Primary suite," Robbie said, opening a door onto a room that was, by any reasonable measure, the size of the entire lab building back on the island. "This one's Doctor Petrov and Anita's."
"Oh, Jesu." Anita's hand flew to her mouth. "This is like the presidential suite in the hotel, only better."
Petrov looked at Anita and smiled. "Told you I would take care of you."
"Yes, you did." She pulled him into the room.
"There are clothes for you in the closet," Robbie called after them.
"Now you two," Callan said, leading Dimitri and Mattie to another door down the hall.