Page 87 of Bratva's Mercy
I pulled back, my fingers still wrapped around his wrist. I wanted to push, but if I showed too much interest, it might make him suspicious. “It’s okay if you don’t trust me.”
His lips parted, breath uneven, eyes still fixed on my mouth like he couldn’t look away.
“That’s not it, I promise. I don’t want you to be involved.”
I studied him for a second longer, then released his hand, letting it fall between us. “But you involved me when you woke me out of my bed to save him.”
“That was my mistake. I shouldn’t have. I’ll get someone else to handle it from here on.”
“No, you won’t.” I grabbed his elbow before he could walk away. “I don’t leave my patients hanging like that, Sergei. I saved his life last night, and I need to ensure he is okay.”
Sergei cocked his head to the side. “Why are you so eager to save the man who tried to kill me? Do you hate me that much?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Because the answer should have been easy. It should have been decisive. Of course, I didn’t hate him. I?—
But the words wouldn’t form. They sat somewhere in my chest, tangled up with everything else I didn’t want to analyze about us. It was too complicated, and regardless of me hating or liking him, I couldn’t let my feelings cloud what I’d set out to do.
Sergei stilled, his arm going slack in my hand. He would have pulled it back if I weren’t still holding on to him. His mouth pressed into a thin line, and he looked at me like I’d betrayed him.
“Sergei—” I started, not knowing where I was going.
“I’ll take you,” he said, this time pulling his wrist from my grip. I didn’t try to stop him.
The loss of contact felt sharper than it should have.
“To check on him,” he went on, his tone back to being distant. “But Maxim will be there.”
He turned away, heading for the kitchen exit like the conversation had already ended.
“You might want to do a better job hiding how much you hate him than you do hiding your hate of me.”
“I don’t hate you,” I said, the words finally breaking free, too late.
He didn’t stop. Neither did he turn. Maybe he hadn’t heard, and I didn’t repeat it because I should hate him. That was the natural reaction to someone who covered up your husband’s murder, and not this awful, tingly sweetness I experienced when I was around him.
27
SERGEI
“What the hell is he doing here?”
To say Maxim was livid at seeing Leo was an understatement. No sooner had Leo and I arrived than he pulled me to the side, though I had no idea why he bothered. It wasn’t as if he was lowering his voice to spare Leo’s feelings. I’d hoped that he would wait until we were alone to bring up his concerns.
I was wrong.
At least Leo was pretending not to hear as he checked on the patient. Arkady’s son—Dmitry, according to the name on the ID inside his wallet that I’d taken off him—had woken up earlier and tried to use his IV needle to stab Dezi, who’d managed to fend him off and strap him down to the bed when he attempted to leave. For a man who’d been half dead last night, he was sure persistent.
“Leo was the one who took care of him last night,” I said.
Maxim shifted from one foot to the other. “That doesn’tanswer the question. We already have a doctor on payroll you could get in touch with. Why didn’t you?”
“Leo’s better.” I shrugged, which only made the vein in his forehead throb more wildly. “At first, I didn’t care one way or the other, but then I found his ID in his wallet and realized he could be an asset.”
“Exactly who the fuck is he? You said he was important.”
I dug into my pocket, took out the young man’s ID, and gave it to Maxim. I didn’t need the card anymore. The details were already etched into my head.
