NIKOLAI (Her Russian Protector #4) (14 page)

Not even trying to hold back, I wept
pitifully. "
You
shot
me.
"

Nikolai dropped to his knees. I'd never seen
anything like it. He seemed to have lost all control of his body.
Falling forward onto his palms, he crawled to me. The agony carved
into the angular lines of his face told me how much he regretted
what had happened. "I am sorry."

"Sorry? You
lied
to me." Rearing back, I started
to slap his face but remembered at the last moment that he'd
suffered a head injury. The blow landed in the spot where his neck
curved into his shoulder, narrowly missing the place where he'd
been stabbed.

Anger and betrayal surged through me, burning
me right up. I balled up my fist and slammed it into his chest
again and again and again. He didn't try to stop me. If anything,
he seemed desperate for me to continue, for me to pummel and beat
him until the physical pain overcame the emotional hell he
suffered.

Weak with hunger and exhaustion, I finally
stopped hitting him. Nikolai slumped forward. He pressed his cheek
to my naked thigh, the rough stubble of his jaw rasping my skin.
The warm spreading wetness of his tears stunned me. "I'm sorry. I'm
so sorry."

Trembling with shock at his emotional reaction,
I stared at his head and the broad expanse of his back. Seeing the
scars and the tattoos drove home how incredibly broken he was. How
agonizing had it been for him to keep this secret all these
years?

Though my anger and betrayal over the lie we'd
lived for so long wouldn't fade overnight, in time it would
irritate me less and less. In some strange way, the lie between us
hadn't pushed us apart. It had bound us together so tightly there
was no way to know where one of us ended and the other
began.

I threaded my shaking fingers through his thick
hair. I carefully avoided the ugly wound along the back of his head
as my fingers trailed down toward his neck. I marveled at the
surprising softness of his inked skin. The marks stood out so
starkly against his pale skin, each one a reminder of some terrible
deed.

He carried the evidence of his crimes on his
skin for everyone to see. Part of my fascination with gang-related
tattoos was the willingness of a person to display their sins to
the outside world. I couldn't understand it. All the stupid,
criminal things I'd done as a child were my greatest shames. I
wanted no one to know about them.

But men like Nikolai and Ivan and Kostya? They
wore them brazenly—but not with pride. I'd quickly learned that
most of the subjects I'd interviewed for my paintings weren't proud
of the things they'd done. They regretted them immensely yet they
marked their bodies with reminders. Was it a form of
penance?

Nikolai's tattoos set him apart from others.
They were the types of markings that made people give him a wide
berth. Did he want to be shunned and treated badly? Did it make him
feel better or ease the guilt?

Even Ivan who had reformed himself often
received the leper treatment. Erin had told me of a time they'd
gone to one of the city's best restaurants and been informed their
reservation had been mysteriously lost. In some ways, Ivan was
still being punished for crimes he'd answered to years
ago.

Feeling so conflicted, I tried to remember the
faith that gotten me through difficult passages in my life. I
closed my eyes and considered what my faith had taught me. There
was only one thing to be done.

"I forgive you, Kolya."

His head popped right up. Bleary-eyed, he
gawked at me. "Don't say that."

I brushed my fingertips along his square jaw.
"I said it. I mean it. I forgive you."

His rough exhalation ruffled the thin fabric of
the blue hospital gown covering my nakedness. "I don't deserve it.
I’m a monster who shot a child and then lied to her for eleven
fucking years."

I couldn't disagree with most of that.
"Why?"

He glanced at me with red-rimmed eyes. "Why did
I shoot you? Or why did I lie?"

"Both."

"When I woke up to a gun in my face, I went
into survival mode. After I took the gun from your father, we
grappled but he got free and ran. Then I heard that noise upstairs.
It was so damn loud. I ran up there and saw this shadowy figure at
the window. I thought you had a gun. I couldn't…I couldn't see very
well. The hoodie and the light from the window made you look so
much bigger—and then you reached into your pocket and I
reacted."

My eyes drifted shut. Of course. He'd been
amped up with adrenaline and probably had tunnel vision. "I was
trying to pull the jewelry out of my pocket. I didn't have a
gun."

"I figured that out after you fell. I rushed
out there to see if you were still alive." He rubbed his forehead
and choked out the next words in such anguish. "You reached for my
hand and asked for your mama."

Hot tears dripped from the corners of my eyes.
"I don't remember any of that."

"I do. I remember it all."

I really didn't want to get into all the
nitty-gritty details but I knew that if I didn't ask now I never
would. "How did you convince the police you weren't the one who
shot me?"

"Kostya was in the house next door. We'd bought
them as part of our plan to expand into this territory. He took
care of everything in the house to make it clean before the police
arrived."

My gut twisted. "Does everybody know the truth
but me?"

He grimaced. "Only Kostya, Ivan, Dimitri and
Yuri. They were sworn to silence."

Apparently they had kept their vows. If Erin or
Lena had learned the truth, they would have told me.

The thing he'd said about my father finally
struck me. "Wait—did you say my father tried to kill you? Was it a
botched hit?"

Nikolai nodded. "I've never figured out who
paid him, and he never spoke about it. He took that name with him
into prison."

If there had been anything in my stomach, I
would have vomited it up right then and there. "I took part in a
hit."

Nikolai cupped my face. "You didn't know. You
were just a baby. Nothing that happened that night was your
fault."

"But you could have been killed."

"I wasn't. I survived, and you survived. That's
all that matters."

I gulped hard. "Why didn't you tell me the
truth? All these years…"

"I didn't know how to do it. At
first, I was relieved that you didn't remember. It was selfish of
me, but I didn't want to go back to prison. For the time since
childhood, I was
scared
. I was terrified of the monster I'd become. A man who could
shoot a child?" He shook his head. "I had to change. I had to find
a way to make all the bad things I'd done right."

"By what? Taking care of me?"

"I felt responsible for you. After the way
you'd fought to survive, I wanted to make sure that you never
wanted for anything. I wanted you to have opportunities in life. I
never intended…"

I tilted my head after his voice trailed off to
nothing. "You never intended what?"

"To get close to you," he said
finally. "After your grandparents were gone, I planned to look
after you from afar, to make sure your tuition and living expenses
were paid so you could pursue your art." He exhaled with such
dejection. "But then you got close to me and it was all over. I
started to crave you. I
need
you. The thought of being separated from you makes
my heart bleed."

My brain threatened to melt as the words I'd
dreamed of him saying poured out of his mouth.

"But how sick is that, Vee? I'm in love with
you the woman I nearly killed as a child." He shuddered with
disgust. "I'm a fucking monster."

My chest tightened as his pain-filled voice
wrapped around me. Touching his jaw, I whispered, "You're not a
monster."

"I am, Vee."

Emboldened, I insisted, "You can't be a monster
because I love you."

He inhaled sharply. "You shouldn't."

"Maybe you're right," I conceded, "but it
doesn't matter. It doesn't change the way I feel about
you."

"You can't love me."

I wiped the slick wetness from his
cheeks. "I
do
love
you."

His intense stare seared me. Voice husky with
emotion, he admitted, "You're too good for me and I should be a
better man and push you away—but God help me I can't. I love you,
Vee."

I tried to slow the dizziness coming over me as
my world spun from his admission of love. Still kneeling at my
feet, Nikolai slid one arm around my waist. Tentatively, he touched
my cheek, his fingertips gliding over my skin as a light as a
feather. Our gazes remained locked as he moved closer. My eyes
closed as I waited for the kiss I'd wanted for so very
long…

"Boss?" Sergei's booming voice penetrated the
door. "Detective Santos is here. The other cops are on their
way."

I silently cursed Sergei's bumbling
interruption. Jerked out of that perfect moment, Nikolai sat back
on his heels. He ran his thumb across my lower lip, his very touch
branding me forever as his. "You should shower and get dressed. The
bag you packed is on that bench over there. I'll come get you in a
while."

"Okay." It wasn't the most eloquent response,
not after the baring of our souls, but it was all I could manage in
my stunned state.

As Nikolai stood, I expected that icy wall to
slam down between us again, but he seemed almost relieved to have
everything on the table. I'd grown so accustomed to him going out
of his way to avoid touching me that it was a bit startling to have
him bend down to kiss the top of my head. It wasn't the real kiss
that I craved so desperately but it meant almost as much to
me.

"Do you need me to stay here? Are you too dizzy
to shower alone?"

I licked my lips at the idea of Nikolai helping
me shower. "Um…no. I'm fine."

"If you need me…"

"I'll yell for you."

Nikolai stepped into his bathroom and the
attached master closet to retrieve his clothing and toiletries. He
paused at the door and gestured between us. "We'll finish this
later."

When he exited the bedroom, I was
left wondering what
this
was. I doubted it would be anything as simple as
dating. I had a sneaking suspicion that Nikolai Kalasnikov was
about to turn my neatly ordered life completely upside
down.

*

When he stepped out of the bedroom with his
shirt gaping open, Nikolai caught Sergei's eyes widen with
surprise. The enforcer didn't say anything but quickly averted his
gaze. Anyone else would have made a dirty remark about coming out
of his bedroom half-dressed, but Sergei was smart enough to know
that Nikolai wouldn't allow that kind of comment when it came to
Vivian.

Clearing his throat, Sergei said, "I'll tell
Santos you'll be down soon."

"Is David here yet?" He needed his lawyer at
Vivian's side before the other detectives arrived to question her
about the kidnapping.

"He called the office line earlier. He's on his
way."

"Keep him in the library. The other detectives,
too," he added. "Santos can wait wherever—but keep an eye on
him."

"Kostya's with him now."

"Good." The last thing he needed was Vivian's
cousin snooping around his house. Thinking of her, he ordered,
"Send someone out for breakfast. Vivian needs to eat."

"Dimitri stopped by this morning with boxes
from Benny's bakery. It's taken care of, Boss."

That was just like Dimitri and Benny to be so
thoughtful without intruding or making a big scene.

"Boss, uh, Vivian's priest is here."

Nikolai blinked. "Father Semyon?"

"Yeah. He was at the front door just after
sunrise. He said he was happy to wait so we didn't wake you. I've
given him tea and breakfast. He's been talking with
Santos."

Jesus
,
Nikolai thought crossly. A detective, a priest and a lawyer in his
home! It was like the setup to a bad bar joke.

"Keep him busy." Nikolai tapped the door to the
master suite. "Don't let her downstairs without me."

His instructions given, Nikolai made his way to
the guest room across the hall and entered the bathroom. Getting
undressed proved to be more painful than he'd expected. Sleeping in
that chair hadn't done his battered body any favors. Maybe he
needed to listen to the doctor and take it easy today. One of those
painkillers might not be such a bad idea either…

Once in the shower, he rested his head against
the tile and let the warm water spill over his tired, aching body.
He'd expected to feel such shame at breaking down in front of
Vivian. He'd long lived with closed-off emotions and letting them
loose now felt strange and unsettling. He rubbed his chest. The
soreness on the surface caused by Vivian's blows would fade soon
enough. Deeper inside of him, he felt the tightness of his guilt
finally easing some.