“Just kill him,” Chloe shouted.
“Chloe, lower your gun. If anyone is going to kill this bastard, it’s me.”
Kirill’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw appeared to have sharpened like the edge of a blade. I recognized his impatience. The type of impatience where he felt explaining was pointless. “It doesn’t matter who she is. And why would I marry her when I already have a wife? Even one who attempted to murder me.”
“You’re the one who took out a contract on my head.”
Another outraged gasp from Chloe.
Kirill flinched at my words. He was breathing hard. His chest rising and falling with effort. Maybe I should check on his gunshot wound. Blood was pooling where he stood. Dammit, did I hit an artery?
“You weren’t my wife then,” he seethed. “If it makes you happy if I’m dead, then shoot me. Here.” He pointed at his head. “Here.” He poked his chest. “Get it over with.”
“You’re not going to fight?”
“Fight?” he chuckled darkly. “I’m… I’m about to?—”
His jaw slackened and his eyes drooped before he sank to the floor.
“Kirill!”
Chapter
Twenty-Five
Kirill
“We needto take him to the hospital.”
I was on my knees, struggling to remain upright. I’d lost my gun. I might have lost more blood than I thought. But I was not losing my wife. I didn’t trust Kolya not to retaliate. “No hospital.”
“Kirill, Kirill?” My wife’s beautiful, worried face appeared before me. “Stay awake.”
The top of my shoulder was throbbing, and I could feel the life draining away from me.
“No hospital,” I repeated.
“Just let him bleed out,” that shrew Chloe said, peering over Lucy’s shoulder. “Then you’ll be free of him.”
“But…”
“You said he wanted you dead.”
The fuck? I wanted to strangle that bitch, but desperately wanted to hear Lucy’s answer, so I remained on my knees, pretending to sway and appear weak. I should win a fucking Oscar.
“The bratva will come after me.”
Kolya wouldn’t rest until he had avenged me. That was a fact, but not what I wanted to hear my wife say.
“I’ll help you get rid of the body.”
I really hated this King heir as much as I hated her half brothers.
“Wait. I know what to do. I’ll call Sloane.”
Lucy’s sister-in-law was a former mob cleaner. My wife really wanted to get rid of me. The pain in my chest seemed to hurt more than my shoulder. I clambered to my feet, leaning against Lucy, who was helping me to a couch but thought better of it. She led me to a wooden chair and asked that woman for clean kitchen towels.
“Did you shoot me in the heart, Lusenka?” I asked.
