“What’s the matter with you?” I ask as he’s hustling me down the path. “We won!”
“That fucking prick shot you in the back,” he snarls, “you were over the finish line and halfway across the fucking campus before he fired on you.”
“Okay, wait- Lucca- I’m serious, stop dragging me!” I have to yank on his arm before he’s willing to look at me. “You can’t be surprised that Mateo’s people are back-stabbing, I mean, back-shooting dickheads. That’s part of the deal here. I’m going to have a huge bruise and based on my recent injury inventory, that’s not too bad.” He’s staring down at me, brow furrowed. Putting my hands on his shoulders, I shake him gently. “We won! This is such a great thing!”
“You got hurt,” he insists, shaking his head.
“How are you going to send your people into danger if you freak out every time they’re injured?” I said. “Part of being a leader is picking the best man - or woman - for the job and knowing they might get hurt.”
“I’m not-” he presses his lips together.
“Youarea leader,velikolepnyy.You may not be first-born, but they see you for what you are here, a leader,” I insist. “So change your thinking.”
A slow smile spreads across his full mouth. “You’re calling me gorgeous?”
“You know Russian?”
He chuckles, kissing me, “I’ve been roommates with Konstantin for over two years. Of course, I had to learn it.”
“Good,velikolepnyy,because you are,” I said, beaming up at him. Feeling a little daring, I add, “Didn’t you promise me something if I won today?”
Lucca bursts into laughter, which does not make me feel sexy and daring at all. “I plan to spend most of tonight with my mouth and my cock buried in that tight pussy,” he purrs, “but first, why don’t we get the blood off your face and make sure you didn’t break your nose in that fall, eh?”
Chapter Twenty
In which justice is served. With a side of power tools.
Tatiana…
The moment I open my eyes, I really, really wish I hadn’t.
Someone is jabbing a screwdriver into my skull and something smells like a dumpster, and I suspect that something might be me.
“I think a rat crawled into my mouth and made my tongue its final resting place.” It’s Mariya.
Rolling over with a moan, I find her next to me in bed. She’s wearing clothes, thank god, and so am I. “This isn’t my bed,” I whine.
“We’re in Lucca’s bedroom, I think,” she groans, “I’m going to have to renounce my Russian heritage. I’m so hung over. I want to die.”
“There was… we won, right?” I touch my finger to my tongue which feels too big for my mouth and dry. Dry as dust. “Where is he?”
“He went out to pick up some pain meds for everyone.” A hoarse voice pipes up from the floor on Mariya’s side of the bed.
“Who’s that?” I said.
“Kon,” the disembodied voice says, “I wasn’t going to let my fiancée sleep in another man’s bed.”
“What’s wrong with your bed?” Mariya’s almost unintelligible, her face smushed against the pillow she’s too weak to move from.
“Fucking Liam O’Neill hosed the entire bed with puke,” he said, finally sitting up and trying to focus on us. “Fucking Irishman, ‘I can hold my fuckin’ liquor’ O’Neill!”
I want to laugh but I know it would hurt so much.
The door opens and in strolls Lucca. He looks rough, like he’s been rolling around in the woods wrestling wolverines.
God, he looks so hot right now.
“Hey baby, how are you doing?” I can tell he’s trying not to laugh and I want to hit him but that would involve moving which might kill me right now. Opening a bottle, he taps three pills in my hand and holds a water bottle up to my mouth. “C’mon, you’ll feel better once these get in your system.”
