Nikolai 2 (Her Russian Protector #6) (52 page)

"We're all fucked," Ten grumbled in Russian.

"Gee, thanks for that encouraging sentiment."

"It's the truth."

"Maybe keep that truth to yourself and get back to work."

We had another dozen or so stretchers to piece together before we started the actual hard work of tugging and stretching the canvases across them. The special needs art class I had taken over for Hadley had completed their landscapes during the last class so it was time for me to stretch and frame them so they would have gifts to hand out during the holidays.

My cell phone chirped and buzzed so I put down the stretcher I had been assembling and picked it up. "Hello?"

"Vee!" Nikolai greeted me in a voice that was aggressive and sounded almost panicked. "Are you still at the studio with Ten?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Give him your phone right now."

"Why? What's wrong?"

"Now, Vee!"

"Okay." I thrust the phone at Ten. "It's Nikolai."

"Boss?" Five heartbeats later, Ten was on his feet and striding toward the windows overlooking the street below my studio. The area was still mostly empty commercial properties and warehouses so there wasn’t much traffic on the roads. Whatever Ten spotted outside made him curse so strongly in Russian that I was sure my ears would catch fire. "They're here. You better fucking hurry."

Ten ended the call and slipped my phone into the back pocket of his jeans. He raced to the door of my studio and turned the lock. He rushed to the nearest heavy worktable and hefted it up as if it weighed nothing. The muscles in his arms bulged as he carried it to the door and used it to barricade us inside.

"What's wrong? Who is here?" I finally found my voice. "Ten!"

"Get in the supply closet." He handed me a box cutter. "You don't make a noise. You don't move. You can breathe, but it better be very fucking quiet. Understand?"

"Ten, what—"

"Now! Go!"

His booming voice shocked me into a run. Thinking of the baby, I went into the closet and shut the door. I could hear Ten moving things in front of it. They wouldn't keep whoever had come for us out, but the boxes and furniture might slow them down.

Crouched in the dark, cramped closet, I clutched the box cutter. It had to be the remnants of Lorenzo's inner circle coming for us. They must have known that my usual guard was spread thin while Nikolai made sure Bianca and Erin were protected while their men were out of town.

Ten was right. We were utterly fucked. Gun, knife, fists—he could handle his own in a fight, but he was handicapped by a pregnant woman who depended on him for her safety. If he was killed because of me, I would never forgive myself.

Please, Kolya. Hurry!

Loud bangs rattled the warehouse door. How many men had come for us? Three? Four? Five? I prayed it was a small number that Ten could handle.

The bangs continued for a long time. The lock finally gave, and the furniture pushed in front of the door scraped the floor as it was shoved out of the way. I pressed my ear to the door of the supply closet so I could hear what was happening. Men shouted in Spanish and English. I tried to count the voices, but it was so hard to keep them separate. Was that three? Four?

The sound of fighting erupted in the warehouse. Stools clattered to the ground. Fists smacked against skin. Men growled and cried out in pain. The vicious noises made my stomach churn. I gripped the box cutter more tightly and hoped Ten was every bit as good as his reputation would have me believe.

A crack of gunfire made me gasp. I clapped a hand over my mouth as Ten shouted in obvious agony. Was he badly injured? Had they hit him in the stomach or the chest or the head? Was he still alive?

Our attackers started fighting amongst each other.

"He said no fucking guns! He wants her and the baby alive!"

"I didn't shoot her. I shot this big Russian bastard!"

"He broke my arm, man! He snapped it in half!"

"Shut up, Javi. Look at Terry. He broke Terry's nose and crushed his fingers."

"The bullet could have ricocheted! It could have gone through a wall and hit her."

"Where the fuck is she anyway? She can't have gone far."

"Start tossing the place. We don’t have long. That husband of hers keeps her on a short leash."

I counted five distinct voices. Straining to hear, I tried to detect any sounds from Ten. All I could hear were footsteps coming closer to the closet where I was hiding. I crouched down in the corner, going as far back as I could. The short stack of boxes between me and the door would do little to protect me.

The footsteps stopped outside the door. Breathing rapidly and on the verge of a panic attack, I held out the boxed cutter and extended the sharp razor tip. The first person to come through that door was getting slashed. No one was going to touch my baby.

The furniture Ten had moved in front of the door was loudly tossed aside. A hand twisted the knob and started to open the door—but then something heavy and hard hit the door, rattling it right on its hinges. I squeaked with surprise. Outside the door, all hell broke loose.

"Shit! He's alive!"

"He's got Marco, man. He's got Marco."

"Put the gun down and kick it over here," Ten ordered gruffly. "Now! Or else I'll snap his fucking neck like a toothpick."

A few seconds later, I heard several pinging noises. Then something metal hit the wooden floorboards. A scraping noise followed.

"There you go, man. There's the gun, but I've got the bullets. What do you think the odds are that you can take all of us? Huh?"

"I'd say they're pretty fucking good right now," Ten answered in an evilly gleeful voice.

The pop of a gunshot startled me. It was quickly followed by four more. I dropped the box cutter and clamped both hands over my mouth to stifle the scream that threatened to erupt. The lock on the door was flipped, and I squeezed my eyes shut. The door squeaked as it was jerked wide open.

Please, please, please.

"Vee!" Nikolai crouched down in front of me and hauled me into his arms. "Oh, baby. Are you okay?" He pushed me back so he could get a better look at me. His eyes were wide and panicked. His face was taut with fury. He touched my belly. "Our son?"

The baby chose that moment to kick hard against the spot where Nikolai's hand rested. Nikolai's shoulders sagged with obvious relief. He pressed his forehead to mine and embraced me tightly. "I thought I had lost you. I didn't think we would get here fast enough."

"We?" I clung to him so hard that my fingertips went numb.

"Your father is here." Nikolai helped me stand. "You're going to go with him for tonight."

I clutched at his shirt. "Where are you going? Why aren't you coming with me?"

"They attacked Bianca, her mother and Erin," he reluctantly explained. "Bianca's mother is on the way to the hospital. So is Artyom and his crew. Danny and Boy are missing. We think they were taken with Bianca and Erin. I have to get them back. Romero will protect you."

My legs nearly buckled. "They took Bianca and Erin?"

"I'll get them back," he swore. "I'll get them home safely."

Nikolai shrugged out of his suit jacket and handed it to me. "Cover your face. I'm going to carry you out of here. I don’t want you to see this."

I didn't want to see it either. I wanted to reach into my brain and take this memory out of my head and throw it away. That wasn't possible so I decided that closing my eyes and hiding under a jacket while Nikolai carried me out of the studio was the best option. It would help me avoid adding more unpleasant images into my brain bank.

"Wait." I stopped him before he could pick me up. "What about Ten?"

Nikolai cracked a smile. "Ten? They picked the wrong man to attack. He's been shot and stabbed, but he'll be fine. He's had worse."

"That's awful."

"That's Ten." Nikolai swept me up in his arms and cradled me close. "Close your eyes,
zolota
. Cover your head."

I did it, and he carried me out of the warehouse, down two flights of stairs and out into the noticeably cooler early evening. I was placed on the front passenger seat of an SUV, and the jacket was removed. Nikolai fastened my seatbelt and then draped his jacket around my body to keep me warm. He nuzzled our faces together before claiming me with a passionate, lingering kiss. "Stay close to your father. Don't even think about coming home until he says it's safe."

"I'll be careful." I touched his face. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I'll be careful." He kissed me again. "I'll see you soon."

I blinked back tears as Nikolai shut the door and strode into the warehouse. The driver's side door opened, and my father slid behind the wheel. I hadn't seen him in months. He had changed quite a bit. He looked older and stressed out. There was more gray in his hair than I remembered and more tattoos on his hands and neck.

He said nothing as he put the SUV in drive and pulled away from the curb. We drove in silence for probably ten minutes before he lifted the center console and retrieved a couple of wrapped hard candies. He held them out to me. "Eat these. You're going to get the shakes from all that adrenaline pretty soon. The sugar will tide you over until we get to the safe house and I can feed you."

I frowned but took the candies from him. "I'm not a puppy that needs to be fed and watered."

"I didn't mean it like that."

The crinkling plastic sounded unnaturally loud in the vehicle. I popped one of the candies into my mouth and made a face. My father chuckled next to me. "You still hate watermelon, huh?"

"I'm surprised you remember that tiny detail when you never could remember the big things, like, you know, sending me a birthday card or a letter while you were away." I didn't mean it to come out so meanly but it did. He actually flinched as if I had struck him. Guilt speared me. "I'm sorry. I didn't—"

"I deserve so much worse than that, kiddo." He kept his attention on the road in front of us. "I should have written to you.
Fuck.
I should have come back for you that night. I shouldn't have left you there in that house."

"Why did you leave me?" It was a question that had plagued me for eleven years. "Why didn't you come back for me?"

He didn't answer immediately. "I left because I was only thinking about myself. I was a selfish dick. After I got picked up and thrown into jail, I found out you had been shot and I hated myself. I wanted to die. I deserved to die for abandoning you like that."

My fingers trembled as my father finally told me the truth about something. I bit my lip and tried to control my wildly vacillating emotions as he continued his impromptu confession.

"I wanted to write you. I wanted to apologize, but I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"You were already a target. Anyone who wanted to touch me just had to go after you. I made a conscious decision to ignore you and cut you out of my life. If everyone else thought you didn't matter to me, it made you a useless target. It was the only way to keep you safe."

He reached across the space between us and gripped my hand in his callused, scarred one. "It my broke my heart, Vivian. You were the only good thing I ever did in my life—and I damn near killed you." A harsh, raspy laugh left his mouth. "I guess Wilde was right about men killing the things they love."

I blinked with surprise. "You've read Oscar Wilde?"

"There's not much else to do on the inside."

He still hadn't let go of my hand. The contact between us brought back memories, good ones, from my childhood. "I was a shit father, Vivian. I didn't know the first fucking thing about being a parent or a husband. I made every mistake in the book, some of them twice, but I'm asking you to give me a chance to be your father now."

"What does that even look like?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "I really don't, but I'd like to try. You set the ground rules. I'll follow them. I want a chance to do right by you."

I didn't know if that was possible. I didn't know if I could forgive a lifetime of hurt to forge a new relationship with my father. I didn’t know if I could overlook the terrible things he did so unapologetically. Finally, after quite a bit of thought, I said, "We can try."

"Thank you." He gave my hand a squeeze and then let go. Clearing his throat, he said, "We're going to be driving for a couple of hours. You should get comfortable. Nap if you can."

I wasn't tired, but I didn't want to talk anymore. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window. I couldn’t stop thinking about Erin and Bianca, Boy and Danny. Were they okay? Were they hurt? How quickly would Nikolai get to them?

"Stop worrying about your friends and rest. That Russian of ours will get them back."

"Ours?"

"You're my daughter. He's your husband. That makes him part of my family." Signaling that he didn’t to talk anymore, he turned on the radio. "Rest, Vivian. This will be over before you know it. Nikolai will find your friends and track down Lorenzo."

"And then?" Eyes closed, I asked the question that worried me most.