Page 24 of Tangled Vows

“Mr. Kovalev was brought in with a concussion, a bruised collarbone and a sprained ankle,” he announces. “He also had severe bleeding caused by a metal fragment. However, we were able to remove that object and stabilize him.”

I sigh in relief and dunk my head, my breathing shallow. “Thank you,” I say, my gaze shooting back up to his. “What about Ms. Jensen? Any news about her?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replies, a polite smile on his face. “She’s in a different OR. My colleagues will let you know when they have news regarding her condition. Excuse me.”

He brushes past me as I notice the bottom end of a stretcher being rolled out of the operation room. The view is just heartbreaking. The once proud Leonid Kovalev looks like he’s been through a fucking war. He’s got a swollen cheekbone, a band aid reaching all the way across the bridge of his nose. There are cuts along both of his arms, a gauze wrapped around his right shoulder. I notice three wounds along his calves, his drowsy eyes focusing on me for a moment. The gurney stops at the elevator as the nurses roll it in.

I jog past them and reach the staircase, anger boiling within me. Those Armenian motherfuckers did a real number on Leonid. They reduced him to a shadow of himself, a creature too weak to face even one of them in a fistfight. Okay, his life is not in danger. He’s going to be alright, although I’m pretty sure he’ll be hurting for a while.

Even so, payback is in order. Whoever did this is going to pay the price. And I’m not going to give them cuts, bruises or a concussion. I’m going to rip their fucking throats out.

I wait for the male nurses to transfer him onto a bed, his men catching up to me down the hallway.

“Malachi, get back down there,” I command. “You’ll only come back up here when you get an update about Clare’s condition.”

He nods and complies.

“You can see him now,” one of the nurses says. “Just don’t be too long, please. He needs to rest.”

I dismiss him with a nod and straighten my jacket. Jesus Christ. It’s hard for me to even look at my friend.

“Hey...” he croaks, his slow blinking tearing me apart. He must have a handful of painkillers in him. “How’s Clare?”

“No idea.” My words come fast. “She’s still in surgery. What the fuck happened back there? Malachi said your car is virtually impenetrable. How could the Armenians sabotage it like that?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ivan,” he winces, fidgeting in his bed. “Get me pen and paper. Speaking’s hard work right now.”

I take my notepad out of my jacket pocket along with a pen and hand it to him, suspecting what he wants to say to me. I tap my fingers on my thigh in impatience as he sets the notepad down on his chest. His fingers crawl along the lines. It takes him four or five minutes to write everything.

I don’t have a clue how the Armenians managed to pull this off.

A knock on the door draws my attention once I’ve read the entire explanation. It’s Malachi, wearing a smile of hesitation.

“I just heard from the doctors.” He assumes a gentle tone. “Clare’s got a broken wrist and three cracked ribs, but she’s going to be fine.”

I grin upon hearing the wonderful news. “Thank you, Malachi.”

“God...” Leonid sighs. “That was close.”

He scowls, biting his lower lip. Despite the heavy medication, he’s still in pain.

I look back at the man who’s still standing at the door. “Go get a nurse. Leonid needs more painkillers.”

“It’s that obvious?” Leonid wonders, the door clicking shut.

“Yes,” I nod. “The Armenians outdid themselves this time. I think we underestimated them.”

“Maybe,” he utters, his voice a bit louder. “This means war, Ivan. I’m sure you realize that.”

“I do,” I assure him. “Trust me, I do.”

I give him a half-smile and shuffle off, that word echoing in my head.

War.

I never meant for things to come to this. Up until now, I believed that our enemies would soon forget the incident of their precious cargo. They would carry on doing business as usual and pretend it never happened. I was wrong. They are willing to take on the Bratva. They want to face us head on, in a war that will cost them in manpower and resources.

Fuck it. If it’s war they want, they’ll get it. By the end, they’ll regret their stupid decision to come after us.

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