Vicious Protector by Maggie Cole

29

Adrian

Two days passin the hospital. Skylar never leaves. Aspen and Hailee bring her a bag of clothes. As much as I want her to get some rest in a proper bed, I feel safer knowing she's near me. Part of me is still in shock when I wake up and see her by my side. I've kicked myself too many times for not seeing that her love for me surpasses anything I could tell her about my truth.

Now that she knows about my past and what I'm capable of, I don't hide anything from her. It's almost as if we opened the flood gate. Over the last few days, I've told her more than I ever thought I would.

The nurse just told us she's going to get my discharge papers ready when Obrecht and Selena come in.

After greetings, Selena asks Skylar, "Want to get a coffee with me?"

"Okay." Skylar kisses me. "I'll be back soon."

"Bogden goes with you," Obrecht insists.

"Yes, sir." Selena gives him a sassy salute, and he stares down at her like she's his dinner. Her face flushes, and they leave.

"Jesus, get a room," I say the moment they are out of earshot.

Obrecht ignores me. "I have news."

My pulse beats quicker. "What?"

He pulls up the chair. "The shooters are at the garage."

A chill runs through me. I start to stand, and he pushes me back down. "Easy."

"Let's go. We'll leave Bogden with the ladies at my place on the way."

Obrecht shakes his head. "No. I'm taking care of this one. You need to rest."

"They're releasing me today. I'm the one who got shot," I growl.

"Don't care. Go home. Enjoy your woman. Besides, Liam has been warming them up for the last day."

"Liam?"

Obrecht nods. "Liam and Killian found out they were hiding in one of Bruno's safe houses. It seems Liam still considers you a pretty good friend."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's like he went into an obsessive trance. He hasn't slept since the shooting. Every second since you got shot, he's hunted those Polish thugs down. He went straight into the house they were hiding out in, put bullets in the other goons around him, and left them for dead. Darragh isn't happy how he went about it."

"Why? What was wrong with what he did?"

"Darragh wanted things planted on the Petrovs to help balance out the war, but Liam wouldn't wait. He went against Darragh's orders. Then he and Killian took the two men responsible for your shooting and were going to take them to the O'Malley's 'garage'," Obrecht says, making quotes with his fingers, "but Boris insisted they bring him to ours. Darragh is going nuts. He threatened to come to the garage—"

"How does he know where it is?" No one is supposed to know. Liam and Killian shouldn't even be there.

Obrecht raises his eyebrows. "He claims he knows and always has."

I scratch my jaw. I have a beard growing from not shaving the last few days, and I can't wait to get home and get rid of it. "Darragh has always claimed to know everything that goes on in the city."

Obrecht's phone rings. "Maksim." His eyes turn to slits. "She should have turned up by now."

My heart pounds harder. Dasha disappeared several hours before her thugs shot me.

"Maksim, we've got a problem with our trackers. How does she vanish if they're doing their job?" Obrecht seethes.

It's a fair question. I've asked myself over and over how it's possible.

"Are our trackers compromised?" Obrecht asks, his face hardening.

Goose bumps pop out on my skin. Over the last year, we've dealt with at least a dozen men working for Petrov or Zielinski in Ivanov employment.

"Can Selena stay with Aspen?" Obrecht runs his hand through his thick, dark hair. "Okay. I'll be there soon." He hangs up.

"Still no word on Dasha?"

He angrily shakes his head. "No. I'm close to pulling the trackers and taking them to the garage to see what I can get out of them."

"Little extreme without any proof, don't you think?" I ask.

Obrecht cracks his neck. "You tell me how they lost her."

"They said they never left the building."

"Then how did she disappear?"

"It happens," I say.

"If you're good at your job it doesn't," Obrecht claims.

"Yeah, well, not everyone is you," I remind him.

"There was no other exit point."

"There has to be."

"No. I went there myself. Sergey was with me before he left for his honeymoon. She couldn't have left unless she went out the front door."

"What about the windows?"

"They were all locked from the inside. I'm telling you, it's impossible unless our guys are compromised or lying about their access point to watch her."

Silence fills the air. I don't want to believe that anyone on my team would be a traitor.

The nurse walks in with paperwork. Obrecht steps back and stays quiet while I sign everything. She rattles off instructions for home and leaves.

There are few people I trust in the world. My brother holds skills no one else does. He's the best, and, as much as I don't like it, if he says it's impossible, then it has to be. The only question is, are our trackers traitors, or were they just neglectful while on duty?

I lock eyes with Obrecht. "Pick them up. Find out what the truth is."

He pats me on the shoulder as Selena and Skylar walk in with four to-go coffee cups.

"The nurse said she gave you discharge papers?" Skylar asks.

I grin and slowly rise off the bed, trying not to wince. "Yep. Good to go."

She puts her hand on my arm. "Slow down. It's not a race."

I grunt. Part of me is pissed Obrecht insists on letting him handle the garage, but as much as I want to carve those two thugs to shreds, being home with Skylar is more appealing. I lean down and kiss her forehead. "Stop being bossy."

She raises her eyebrow at me. "This isn't bossy."

"No?" I try to hide my amusement.

"Nope!"

"Hmm."

"Want a ride?" Obrecht asks.

"Yeah."

I attempt to pick up Skylar's overnight bag, but Obrecht grabs it first. "You don't listen to instructions very well."

"I'm fine."

"Nurse said no lifting heavy objects for a week."

"That isn't heavy."

Skylar puts her arm through mine. "Are you going to be a bad patient?"

I smirk. "Don't give me ideas."

"Okay, lovebirds. Time is ticking." Obrecht leads Selena out of the room, and we follow.

The nurse stops us as soon as I step out of the door. "Mr. Ivanov, I told you we would provide a wheelchair for you."

I grunt and attempt to smile nicely. "Thank you, but I'm good."

"It's our policy."

"Use it for someone who needs it."

"Adrian," Skylar warns.

"What? I can walk."

The nurse rolls the wheelchair over to me. "Please sit, sir."

"Really, I'm—"

"Sir, I could get written up!" the nurse frets.

I sigh. "Fine." I sit in the chair, ignoring Obrecht's amused expression and focusing on my printsessa's happy smile.

We get in the car. They drop us off at the penthouse. When we step inside, Skylar freezes.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

She scans the room. "I um..." She glances around some more. "I'm not sure. Something feels off."

"Everything looks normal to me. Do you think it's because you haven't been here in a few months?"

A big smile appears on her face. She circles her arms around my waist, keeping away from my wound. "I'm sure it's just my nerves from the past few days."

I drag my finger over her jaw. "You know what I want to do?"

"No. What?"

"I want to spend the rest of the day attending to your nerves, starting in the shower."

"You're supposed to rest," she claims.

I lick my lips and fist her hair, tilting her face up more. I lean down so my lips are an inch from hers. "I can't think of anything more relaxing than you sitting on my face. Can you?"

Heat rushes to her cheeks. She opens her mouth, but I slide my tongue in it before she can give me any more excuses about resting. Her hands slide up my chest and lace around my head. She hungrily flicks her tongue against mine, and I groan. "I've missed you so much, my printsessa. Welcome home." I kiss her some more, trying to erase the months of craving every part of her and her body.

"Adrian?"

"Hmm?" I ask, swirling my tongue in her mouth some more.

"I scheduled the movers for tomorrow. I'm having them take anything I don't want or need to the donation center. After that, I'm sending my keys back to my landlord."

I freeze. An uncontrollable grin overpowers me. "So you want to be stuck with me with nowhere to go when you get pissed at me, huh?"

She sweetly smiles. "You said I'm your forever, right?"

"Yeah, my printsessa. Forever. You and me." I kiss her again until she pulls away and takes my hand. She leads me through the penthouse and into the bathroom then turns on the shower. I wince when I remove my shirt.

"You okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"Not what I asked, tough guy."

I drop my pants to the floor. "I'm about to be really good." I cock an eyebrow at her. "Now take your clothes off."

"Spin," she demands. "Let me take your bandages off."

I obey, and she removes them. "Clothes," I repeat, motioning for her to get naked.

She begins to remove her shirt and stops. "Your stuff to bandage your back is in my purse. Let me get it."

I groan. "Later."

She laughs and pats my ass. "Get in the shower and I'll grab it."

"I see your bossy self is back."

"I am not bossy."

I palm her head and kiss her again. "Don't get used to it. You know I'm in charge, right?"

She pushes her hands on my chest, laughing. "Get in the shower."

"Fine," I grumble. "Don't take too long. I have plans for you."

She seductively takes her shirt and pants off so she's only in her bra and panties.

"Fuck, I missed your beautiful self," I say, scanning her slowly from head to toe.

She points to the shower. "In."

"Hurry up and join me," I tell her again and step under the warm water.

She sticks her head around the glass.

"That doesn't look like hurrying," I tease.

"I'm taking my turn."

"Your turn?"

Her eyes travel down the length of my body. She takes a deep breath when she gets to my erection, which is only getting harder by the second. "Spin," she commands.

All right, I'll give you a show if you want one.

"I had a hunch you like to watch," I admit and cockily turn so she can see my backside. I don't allow her to look too long and face her again. "Get your sexy self in here." I step forward, reach out, and cup her sex. "Your hot, wet pussy needs some love, don't you think?"

She glances at my erection again and swallows.

Before she can answer, I slide my fingers inside her underwear and right into her hole.

She gasps.

"So wet, my printsessa. Why is that?" I circle my thumb on her clit and curl my finger inside her.

Her eyes become heavy, and her face flushes. She moves her hips on my hand, and I pull it out. "No more until you get in here with me."

"I'll be right back." She turns and leaves the room.

I call after her, "Hurry!"

Minutes pass, and she doesn't return. The water begins to get cold.

What is she doing?

Skylar's scream fills the air. Chills run down my spine. I grab a towel and dry myself off as I move as fast as I can while screaming, "Printsessa!"

When I step into the bedroom, the glass between the room and balcony is open, and my chills turn to terror. Skylar and Dasha each have their hands on the other's shoulders, wrestling on the wooden ledge. Their cries get louder, and adrenaline fills my cells.

I rush outside, tossing the towel on the floor, and get to them as they roll off the edge. Instinct makes me reach for both of them, and I grab Dasha with my right hand and Skylar with the other.

"Adrian!" They both scream. Their bodies hang in the air over the Chicago streets. Each woman grips the metal rail with one hand.

I only focus on Skylar.

"Stop moving. Stay calm, or it'll make it worse," I order.

Her deep-blue eyes fill with fear. She stops wriggling. Her breath stays short, and her tears fall.

"Adrian!" Dasha screams again. She continues wiggling, which only pulls on my back.

"Stop moving, Dasha!" I cry out, not sure how much longer I can hold both of them.

"Adrian," Skylar cries out.

Dasha doesn't listen. I attempt to pull Skylar up, but it's too much with my back injury and Dasha flapping her body all over the place. She continues screaming my name and telling me to pull her up.

Skylar's hand slips down my arm, and a terrorized shriek comes out of her.

"Stay calm, my printsessa," I remind her. My heart feels like it's going to pound out of my chest.

"Adrian, pull me up," Dasha demands again.

"Adrian," Skylar cries out. The fear in her eyes is something I've never seen before.

I don't take my eyes off her. There is no choice. The moment I met her I would have chosen her. I let go of Dasha's arm and reinforce my grip on Skylar's arm.

Dasha's last screams get farther away as I hold onto Skylar. Her shoulder rips out of the socket, and she screams in agony.

There are no choices. I pull up on her arm until she's halfway on the ledge then grip her under the arms and finish getting her back on the balcony.

I fall to the ground with her in my embrace. She's shaking and sobbing against my chest. I barely feel the cold cement floor as I kiss the top of her head over and over and tighten my arms around her.

"Let me see your arm," I finally say as the shock begins to wear off.

"No. Just hold me."

I look down, and blood is pooling around my bottom.

I need to get off this balcony.

I calmly say, "We need to go inside. Both of us need to see a doctor."

She pulls her head away from me and says, "Oh God, your back."

I wince looking at the bruise forming on her face. "I'm okay."

"Adrian, you're bleeding!" she says in horror, staring at the blood.

"I think my sutures ripped. We need to go inside," I repeat.

She slowly nods.

"Put pressure on your other hand to get up so you don't injure yourself further," I instruct her.

She carefully rises, and I do the same. I lead her to the bathroom and retrieve my phone from the counter, tugging her into my chest. She's still shaking as I rack my brain about who to call first. Everyone is at the garage. Their phones will be off.

Obrecht didn't say Dmitri was there.

The sirens are already filling the air, no doubt from Dasha's fall. I call Dmitri, and he answers.

"I'm about to call 9-1-1. Can you come over?"

"Adrian, are you okay?"

"Yes. Dasha is dead. She fell off my balcony."

There's a moment of silence. Dmitri clears his throat. "Of course. I'll be there in ten."

Something else occurs to me. "Tell Darragh he needs to come."

Dmitri's voice lowers. "Consider it done."

"Thanks." I hang up, kiss Skylar on the head, and call 9-1-1. I pick up Skylar's pants, help her put them on, then wrap one of my T-shirts around her torso, keeping her arms out of them. I have her slide her healthy arm in the sleeve and drape my robe over her damaged shoulder.

I throw on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt.

The paramedics arrive before the police. Dmitri and Darragh show up. The police chief follows Darragh and instructs the other officers to leave.

Skylar's shoulder gets put back into the socket. The EMTs rebandage my back and instruct me to get new stitches.

The officer steps forward. He points to Skylar. "You talk first. What happened?" He points to me. "And, you, don't talk."

I pull her tighter into me and glance at Darragh. He nods, and I do my best to follow his orders and keep my mouth shut.

Dasha may be dead, but she was a Petrov and aligned with the Polish mob. This all needs to be handled with care with the police being involved. The more we keep the mafia out of it, the better. The last thing we need are any more issues with Petrovs or Zielinskis. Zamir may be dead, but any Petrov finding out that I know who Dasha was is not in our best interest. My hope is our problems with Bruno's family are over now that Dasha is dead, and no Petrov ever finds out who Dasha was or that I know.

If only my nagging voice would allow me to believe it. All it wants me to hear is, the mafia never dies, only people.