Who are you?
I frowned as I watched him sleep.
And why can’t I stay away?
7
MIKHAIL
Iwoke up slowly, taking inventory of my body before opening my eyes.
Pain radiated down my upper back and along my arm, reminding me that I had been shot when I defended my daughter at home. A new warmth of inflammation rose up on my thigh, too, suggesting that I had been hit when I ran into the ballroom to protect her.
As the leader of the family, I couldn’t afford to be reckless, to be stupid and daring all for the glory of being able to say I would defend my family no matter what.
But I really hadn’t been. Guards were there. Roman was there. Andre showed up too, I recalled that before I started to pass out.
That fucking dart…
I almost groaned at the reminder of being sedated against my will. Enemies would always want to take me, dead or alive, but the use of a tranquilizer like that suggested those attackers intended to take someone alive. To question them.
They were probably targeting her.
My daughter.
My burden and vulnerability.
In the recess of my mind, I fought back the initial annoyance that I had to allow for a woman in my inner circle now. A member of the fairer sex. The weaker sex.
Fuck that. I’ll ask Martin to arrange for lessons. She has to know how to use a gun. She needs to be armed, taught how to fight.
Her days of being a spoiled princess were over.
Every member of the Orlov organization would be strong and fearless. It was dogma. I just never had to factor in arming and training my teenaged daughter.
As I fought not to open my eyes, relishing the peace of lying flat and feeling the tug of stitches on my flesh, I tracked the sounds and smells of the room.
It was too cool, air-conditioned and dry, unlike the comfort of my home. Different odors and strong scents of medicinal properties gave me further clues that I was likely in the hospital.
I must have bled out too much.
That or the tranq had knocked me out for a long period of time that worried my son and nephew.
Realizing from the context clues that I was in a hospital, I let my obligations and worries enter my mind. I’d be safe here—for a while. No one would bring me here and consider the in-depth need for security. If I were unconscious, I would’ve been more vulnerable. Too many soldiers and spies had been killed whenthey received medical care. It wasn’t like it would take much for the wrong person to stroll into a room and smother someone while they slept.
But I couldn’t linger. I wouldn’t. If I hung around here for too long, I’d be further exposed.
What mattered more was getting back home. To check on Anya. To see if any of my men had captured the attackers and questioned them. Work was always at the forefront of my mind, and this was no different.
Opening my eyes, I took in the scene of a hospital room. Blank, boring walls greeted me. As I lay flat, hooked up to monitors that beeped and tracked my vitals, I stirred and tested out how stiffly I could move.
I leaned up slowly, gritting my teeth through the agony of forcing too much motion too soon.
“No, wait,” a woman said.
As she turned toward me, her white doctor coat hiding her tall but slender form, I sat up more.
No one toldmeno.
