Page 25 of Forced Bratva Wife

Pietor jabbed his finger in my face. “We didn’t let anything, so fuck off with that. They were professionals. Hired guns who’ve been around. We also took several down with us before we all returned to our fucking corners.”

“Unbelievable.” I shook my head, clenching my jaw as I tallied up the crew that was making my hallway a damn triage unit.

They groaned to varying degrees, and as I took in the sorry sight of smashed-up help, I came up one body short.

“Where’s Igor?”

As if summoned, a few of the other men pulled the asshole inside. He screamed—a massive fucking hole in the guy’s leg that rained blood in a constant stream. Igor was going to bleed out and die on my damn floor if something wasn’t done about it.

“He’s bad boss! He needs more than we can give him.” Marco, one of my clean-up crew scent to do away with blood when shit got messy, was helping to get Igor inside and down on the floor.

“Shit!”

Pavel had cost me money, convenience, and men. I could make more money, but getting the crew up to my standards again was going to be a real fucking pain in the ass. And Igor was a loyal bit of muscle. Bastard doesn’t deserve this.

“Ahh!” He screamed again as he was shuffled to the floor, clutching his leg even as Marco and another set of hands kept him from messing with the injury. “Fucking guy, boss. He j-jabbed me with a fucking knife! Big fucking knife like from that damn m-movie!”

Igor’s words were slurred and stuttering as he leaked onto the tile. This is not good. Not fucking good!

“Move. You get his leg up and his head down.”

Suddenly, Parker was rushing in from behind me, shoving me and others out of the way until she got to Igor’s side. She directed Marco, ordering him around, but his eyes shot to me for confirmation. I just nodded.

“Do it.”

She’s the fucking doctor, after all.

With that, Marco hoisted Igor’s leg up, and I watched as Parker took a large duffle the guys had brought in and used it to prop up the injured thigh. She was at his head as she shoved down on the wound, the strain obvious in her muscles.

“You’re going to keep talking to me, okay?” She looked down, snapping her fingers at the people around her. “I need bandages! Lots! Get me everything you have, and do it fast!”

Again, there was a flicker of tension as eyes found me, and again, I just nodded.

“Get the doctor anything she needs. Treat it like my own orders.” Another moment of hesitation. “Now!”

Parker's orders caused a frenzy of activity as everyone began rushing to do as they were told. We had some first aid supplies in the house, and soon, the crew came back with literally everything we had—as requested.

“Good. You,” she pointed at one of them, “get this bandage open; don’t touch the pad. Then open the rest and hand them to me as I call for them. You find long gauze to wrap around it.”

When the clean bandage was open, Parker snagged it, packing it over the top of the bloody cloth that had been hastily tied to Igor’s leg.

She made eye contact with him, smiling like nothing was wrong. “What’s your name?”

“Igor.” His eyes lulled, the blood loss getting worse.

I knelt down by his head, getting the gist of what Parker was doing.

“Hey, Igor.” I leaned toward him. “Talk to me. What did this fucker look like? Who am I dealing with when you’re on your feet?”

A strained chuckle left the guy’s mouth, and then he hissed as Parker continued to work with the bandages.

“Real dumb son of bitch, boss. Way too damn short. Stupid red hair.”

I nodded, putting my hand on his chest and pressing lightly. “He’ll catch a shot in the thigh, don’t you worry. He’ll go nice and slow.”

Igor laughed again before the pain stole it from him. Still, I was happy to see that Parker had wrapped up his leg real damn good in the time we were talking. She was fast, commanding, and braver than I would have expected, considering she was face-to-face with the obvious repercussions of extreme violence.

Emergency room. Didn’t I hear something about her working in the emergency room?

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