28. Lindsey
28
LINDSEY
H eart lodged firmly in my throat, I try to stop Maks from slamming face-first into the floor, but his dead weight is too much for me, and I topple backward, landing hard on my hip as I cushion his fall. Rolling him onto his back, I lean over him, ripping his mask off so I can assess if he’s still alive. His eyes are closed, his face pale, and icy fear rushes through me that he might already be dead.
“Don’t die on me. Please don’t die,” I sob, pressing my ear to his chest. After everything we’ve been through, I can’t stand the thought of losing him like this—of knowing that he died taking a bullet for me.
“Shut up, woman,” Lucian snaps, his eyes flashing as he looks over at me. “Do you want to bring security down on us faster?”
Biting my lips together, I muffle the tears pouring relentlessly from me now. It takes a painfully long time to find the soft, shallow flutter of a heart beat beneath my ear, and even as relief surges through me, I know Maks doesn’t have much longer. From the looks of the bullet wound in his back and the amount of blood, it might have hit an artery—or even his heart. “He needs help,” I insist, keeping my voice in the same register as the Italians, hoping that will make them more willing to work with me.
Deftly wiping his blade clean on Emiliano’s shirt, Lucian closes the knife and tucks it away in the breast pocket of his suit. Then he straightens, looking far too put-together for a man who just betrayed his don and killed him in cold blood.
“What do we do now, boss?” one of his men asks, anxiety clear in his tone. “This wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to take him out from a distance and get the fuck out. Leave no evidence that we were around.”
Lucian mutters something in Italian, but I’m too focused on trying to keep the blood inside Maks’s body to care.
“Maybe we should leave the Russian,” another suggests. “He killed the others, and he’s as good as dead. Give them a body, and they won’t keep digging.”
“He did leave us a fucking massive crime scene to clean up.”
“No, you are not letting Maks take the fall for this,” I snap, glaring up at Lucian with all the ferocity I can muster. “He doesn’t deserve that, and you know it. He did this to protect me. So, you’re going to help me keep him alive by getting him to the back door of the building. Now, give me your knife.”
Amusement flickers across Lucian’s face as he lifts one eyebrow in surprise, but when I hold out my hand expectantly, he actually opens the butterfly knife and passes me the blade. Carefully shuffling out from under Maks, I use the knife to cut the lower half of my skirt off at mid-thigh before passing the knife back. Then I lean in to wrap the fabric around Maks’s chest, grunting with the effort to pick him up enough to get the job done. No one jumps in to help me, and a ball of lead settles in my stomach at the silent message that sends.
“You really think I should be helping you two right now? You’ve left me a fucking mess to clean up,” Lucian says. “You’re lucky I stepped in at all. Though, from the looks of it, if I hadn’t, you’d be dead right along with him by now, and I would be back to square one.”
Fury ignites in my chest, and I glare up at him. “You’re the one who wanted to be in charge, and now you are. So, are you going to step up and prove that you’re the man people need to respect, or are you going to let Maks take credit for what you’ve done? Isn’t the whole point of killing him to show you’re the new boss in town?”
I’m winging it based on the heated conversation Maks just had with Don Costanzo, but I’m hoping it might drive Lucian into action. And maybe it’s wishful thinking, but after mouthing off to a man I just watched kill someone in cold blood, I’m hoping that the look in his eye is grudging respect—not murderous intent. Otherwise, I might have just signed my own death warrant.
“Vito, with me. The rest of you wipe the room of any evidence we were here. Do it quickly and quietly. We need to get ahead of it if we’re going to control the narrative on this.” Lucian stoops next to me and grasps Maks’s arm.
When his man follows suit, they heave him up together, slinging his arms across their shoulders as they carry him between them. Maks’s head lolls dangerously, and my stomach knots as I feel the clock ticking down.
“Lead the way, Mrs. Yashkova,” Lucian says.
The name sends a jolt through my body, and I can’t ignore the warmth that floods me as I turn toward the side door. I think that’s the first time anyone’s called me by Maks’s last name, and it unleashes a deep longing in my chest.
With bated breath, I open doors for them and check that the coast is clear as we head toward the door at the back of the building that Maks pointed out earlier tonight. A few times, we have to duck back into rooms to wait for a convention center employee to pass, but when the frigid Chicago air finally rushes across my face, I breathe a deep sigh of relief and hold the door open for Lucian and his man to exit through.
Two black Escalades sit idling behind the limo Maks and I arrived in tonight, and as soon as we step outside, Liam is out of the first SUV with three more men close behind him.
“What the fuck happened?” he growls, his glare threatening as he levels it at Lucian and climbs the steps.
“Emiliano shot him,” I say, stepping forward to stop a conflict before it can start. “He needs serious medical help. He’s lost a lot of blood.”
There’s a moment of tension as the Italians stop and Maks’s men take custody of his limp body. As they carry him back down the steps toward the convoy, I hesitate a moment, turning to Lucian.
“Thank you,” I breathe.
Lucian inclines his head, his lips curving into a crooked grin. “You’re welcome. He’s lucky to have a woman like you to watch his back,” he adds, tipping his chin in Maks’s direction. “I can see now why he trusts you.”
I don’t know that I would go so far as to say Maks trusts me, but the compliment is still surprisingly touching coming from the man who’s been watching my every move.
“He was right—to choose you for an ally,” I say. “You came through.”
A low chuckle slips from Lucian’s lips. “Yeah, well, it’s nice to know I’ll be able to call in a favor when that time comes,” he says pointedly.
With a wink, Lucian is gone, leaving me with the lingering sense that it’s probably not a good thing to owe a man like him a favor—especially one as big as what he did for us tonight. I have a feeling it won’t be the last time our paths cross. I just hope he still thinks of us as allies by then.
“Let’s go,” someone says behind me, his deep voice, making my heart somersault.
When I turn around, I immediately recognize the behemoth who first kidnapped me from the club. His bald head shines in the streetlamp’s light as he scowls up at me from the bottom of the stairs, and even though he still scares the shit out of me, this time I don’t hesitate. Racing down toward him, I keep going when I hit the curb, climbing into the limo so I can ride with Maks.
“Are we taking him to the hospital?” I ask as the doors close and the car starts rolling.
“A doctor will meet us at the pakhan ’s penthouse,” Liam says.
Anxiety coils in my belly as I check on Maks. His pulse is frighteningly weak and shallow, his face so pale his lips are almost blue. The makeshift bandage is holding tight, but even so, when I reach back to feel between his shoulder blades, the torn fabric of my dress is wet to the touch—soaked through with his blood. “That’s not good enough,” I insist.
“It’s the medical help we can get him without alerting authorities to the fact that he was here tonight.”
Glaring at Liam, I wonder just how many times I can get away with mouthing off to these deadly men before one finally decides to permanently shut me up. But before I can get started, Maks’s man cuts me off.
“We know the rules, gospozha . This is what the pakhan wants, and we’ll do everything in our power to keep him alive.” Liam’s voice softens as my tears start to fall silently once again. “He’s strong. If anyone can survive this, it’s him.”
My head lolls, and my neck tenses, snapping upright as I startle awake. It’s been two days since Maks got shot, and he still hasn’t woken up. Slipping my fingers beneath my glasses, I rub the sleep from my aching eyes and sit up in the chair I’ve stationed beside his bed. I don’t want to fall asleep in case he wakes up, though I did sleep beside him for about three hours at some point—just to stay close when I couldn’t keep my eyes open a minute longer.
He’s hooked up to an IV and monitor, and his color looks much better after several infusions. The doc says that he’s stable now, but it was touch-and-go there for a while. Watching the doctor pull the bullet out of Maks’s lung was nothing short of a nightmare. Thankfully, it almost went clean through him—that’s what the doctor said. But I guess Maks’s collarbone stopped it from exiting his body—a good thing because it’s one less piece of evidence investigators will find to pin Emiliano’s death on Maks, but bad for Maks’s clavicle, which was shattered from the impact. The doctor decided to take the bullet out through Maks’s chest, so now he has two holes in him to remind me of what he did.
I’m still having a hard time wrapping my mind around what happened that night. A thick cloud of fear and desperation has left my memories foggy. But I remember with perfect clarity the fact that I was ready to do anything to protect my baby—and when Maks’s arms wrapped around me, I knew without a shadow of doubt that I would be okay.
Taking a deep breath, I stand from the chair to lean over Maks. Combing his dark hair back from his temple, I smile at the hint of silver it uncovers. Rather than looking older, it just makes him seem more distinguished. I can hardly believe our age difference ever felt like a hurdle, when life is so fleeting, it doesn’t matter what age you are. In this life, we’re only allowed the time we’re given, and I want to take whatever time with him I can get.
My heart flutters as I run my fingers down his chiseled face and through the dark stubble that’s grown into a short beard while he’s been asleep. “If you don’t wake up soon, I might just have to take matters into my own hands and give you a shave,” I threaten softly, but I’m not sure I could bring myself to do it. I like the way he looks with a beard—just a hint more rugged and dangerous.
My stomach growls, reminding me that I haven’t eaten in a while. I should probably go get some breakfast—and give Lenka an update on how Maks is doing. But I don’t like leaving him, even for a little bit. Slipping my fingers into his hand, I give his palm a squeeze.
“I’ll be back before you even know I’m gone,” I promise and turn to go.
His fingers tighten around mine, and my pulse quickens. It’s the first indication he’s given that he has any awareness of his surroundings, and I whirl, my heart hammering against my ribs as I look down at him. A slow smile spreads across his lips as his eyes open, and his thumb brushes across the back of my knuckles, sending a shiver up my spine.
“You’re still here,” he rasps, sounding surprised.
A strangled laugh escapes me as tears of relief blur my vision. “Of course I’m still here. I had to know you were okay. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you when you literally took a bullet for me.”
Maks shakes his head, his eyes slipping closed for long enough that I almost think he might have passed back out. But when they open, they’re full of concern. “You don’t owe me anything, Lindsey. I did that for myself.”
“Because getting shot is so much fun?” I tease, but my heart is beating a mile a minute, and it jumps up another notch when the humor leaves his face.
“I couldn’t watch you die. I would rather die myself than live without you.”
The pain in his voice knocks the breath out of me, and I don’t know what to say. All this time, I thought he was pulling away from me because he was ready to move on—that he wanted me to go to New York, because he didn’t want to keep me around—and I thought I was ready for that. I thought I agreed with that decision, but so much has changed since the gala.
Maks rocks up onto an elbow so he can face me more directly, his hands tightening around mine. “I’m sorry, Lindsey. I’m so fucking sorry I put you through that—” He cuts off abruptly, his eyes filled with pain as he struggles for words.
“Maks, you’re pushing yourself too hard. The doctor said you need rest,” I insist, trying to steer him back onto his pillows.
He shakes his head and catches my other hand, pulling me down onto the edge of the bed as a rueful smile curls his lips. “You must want to leave now more than ever after seeing just how dangerous it is to be associated with me,” he says dryly.
I hesitate, biting my lip, because even if it might sound crazy, nothing could be further from the truth. Maks studies me with his sharp blue gaze, his eyebrows buckling into an expression of disbelief.
“Lindsey?”
The breath I was holding leaves me in a rush, and my shoulders drop, because I’m so tired of holding back, of pushing him away so it won’t feel like he’s the one who wants me to leave.
With a pained grunt, Maks sits up to peer deep into my eyes. “I know it’s not fair of me to ask, but would you stay in Chicago with me—knowing how dangerous my world is but that I would do anything to protect you?”
“I guess that depends,” I say, trying to sound calm while my heart is firmly lodged in my throat. “Would you change your mind about wanting a wife?”
Conflict wars across his face, and my stomach sinks as I brace for disappointment, but I can’t stop the tears that sting the backs of my eyes.
“What I want won’t change the fact that being close to me would put you at risk, but I’m done trying to be selfless. If you’ll let me, I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you in my life for as long as that might be—even if I have to take bullets to keep you safe—because I love you, Lindsey. I love you so fucking much, and I can’t stand the thought of a life without you.”
A single tear escapes my eye, rolling down my cheek, and my heart bursts as Maks reaches up to cup my chin and brush it away with his calloused thumb. There’s something desperate in his eyes, a pleading hope that shatters any chance I might have had of picking the safe choice.
“I want to stay with you,” I breathe. “You’ve proven you’ll do anything for me, that you’ll do anything to protect me. And regardless of how hard I’ve tried not to, I’ve fallen in love with you.”
Maks’s smile washes across my skin like warm sunshine, and he cups my face so tenderly, it makes my chest ache. His eyes flick down to my lips, warning me of the impending kiss, and I’ve never wanted one so badly. But first, I need to tell him everything. If this even has a prayer of working between us, I can’t keep holding onto secrets.
“Maks, wait.” Grasping his palms, I lower them to my lap without letting him go.
Hurt flits across his face, followed by disappointment, but he nods as if he understands what’s coming.
“I have to tell you something,” I whisper, suddenly anxious about how he’s going to react. What if he doesn’t want me once he finds out what I’ve been hiding? What if he doesn’t want the baby? My heart hammers against my ribs, and for a fleeting second, I’m not sure I’m brave enough to tell him. But he needs to know.
“Okay?” he presses when silence stretches between us.
“I’m pregnant,” I say, letting it out in a rush before I can change my mind. “So, if you want me to stay, our baby is going to need your protection as well.”
A stunned huff rushes from Maks, like he just fell waist-deep into ice-cold water, and the cool breath washes across my skin. “You’re—how do you know?” he asks, sounding like he’s trying to string his scattered disbelief together.
“I—took a test. The morning I snuck out and Lucian’s man saw me.”
“You’ve known for weeks? Why didn’t you tell me before?”
The pain in his voice chips away at my heart. “Well, you said you were just getting me out of your system. You didn’t want a family. I just—I didn’t know what else to do.”
Realization dawns on his face, then remorse. “I’ve made a real mess of things, haven’t I?” he asks. “I’m sorry, Lindsey. I shouldn’t have let you believe that for a second, because none of it’s true—not with you. I was trying to convince myself, because I thought it might protect you.” Cupping the back of my head to bring me close, Maks rests his forehead against mine. “Forgive me?” he murmurs.
God, I love this man. “I already have.”
My heart skips a beat as he pulls me onto his lap to cradle me against his wounded chest, and he brushes his lips across mine, gently, before peering deep into my eyes.
“I love you, zaya . I’m crazy about you,” he says passionately. “Letting you go would have been the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I can’t imagine parting with you now that I know you’re carrying our child. If I’d known, I never would have offered to send you to New York, and I hope you still want to stay, because I couldn’t let you leave now, even if you wanted to.”
I laugh tearfully, unable to hold back my smile. “I’m right where I belong, and I’m ready to face the world with you. I love you, too.”
Knowing that we’re in this together, that Maks wants me—wants the child we’re going to have together—means everything to me.
Nothing’s ever felt so right.