Page 17 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Never did I think I would be standing here watching Fyodor do everything in his power to keep Zasha alive. We’ve been bitter rivals for almost two years now, yet he lies here getting the best treatment dirty money can buy.

His face remains sallow and pale, covered in bruises that mark most of his body like ink. The moment he arrived here, it became clear that the majority of his injuries didn’t happen from the accident, but it left a dangerous question lingering in the air.

How the hell did this happen?

“Thank you, Ester.” Fyodor clasps her frail shoulder and squeezes. She smiles brightly and pats his knuckles, then she slips from the room and winks at me on the way past. My chuckle brings Fyodor’s attention to me and he sighs deeply.

“How is Naomi?”

“Sleeping.”

“Good.” Fyodor sighs again. “Good.”

“Talk to me, boss.” Walking forward, I stop at the foot of Zasha’s bed. There are more wires and machines here than I can ever understand. I’m trained to take lives, not save them. “Why are we doing this? Why work so hard to save someone that wouldn’t even piss on you if you were on fire?”

Lifting one hand, Fyodor kneads at the back of his neck. “Naomi. Given her unfortunate involvement, I can’t put that kind of guilt on her shoulders. She’s not part of this and I don’t want her thinking she’s killed someone. We both know what that does to someone and she is just too…” He trails off.

“Too sweet?”

“Exactly. She’s not part of this world, so she shouldn’t have to carry the same weight we do. So, we will take care of this fucker until he wakes up and she can see that he’s alive. After that?” Fyodor puffs out his cheeks. “Fuck knows.”

Moving closer, I scan over Zasha. This close, it’s easier to see how shallow his cheeks are and how his collarbone protrudes more than expected. Not only is he beat to all hell, but he clearly hasn’t eaten in a while. What catches my attention the most, however, are the unusual scorch marks across his pecks.

Marks I recognize.

“He was tortured.”

“Hmm?” Fyodor’s head snaps up.

“Look.” I briefly touch the burns, mapping them out across his pecs and down to several small, circular incisions across his rib cages. “These, all of these. He was tortured. And recently too, although some of these are turning pink. Couple of weeks, maybe?”

“How can you tell?”

I lift my head and stare over the top of my glasses. “Prison, remember?” It’s not a topic I like to bring up, not even to the man I dedicate my life to protecting. The scars run deep.

Fyodor’s head dips once in a silent apology. “Of course. So, the poor fucker was tortured and then what. He escaped and came here? That doesn’t make sense. This would be the last place he’d be welcomed with open arms.”

“Or he was let go,” I point out.

“In our backyard?”

“Yeah. Think about it, he’s the head of one of the major families. Or he was, at least before Oleg took a dive. He’s been doing everything and anything to stay relevant, including ending up pretty high on our shit list. Then he just happens to turn up here all fucked-up? It’s got to be some sort of plot for sympathy or some shit. Bet he didn’t factor in Naomi though.”

“I’m not known for sympathy,” Fyodor remarks. “Given our last altercation a few months ago, he should have known the only thing waiting for him here was a bullet to the skull.”

“Except you didn’t factor in Naomi either,” I smirk lightly. “I’m just saying, him turning up here can’t be good. Either there’s some fucked-up shit going down that we’re not in on, or he’s desperately trying to get close to you to stick the knife in.”

Not that I’ll let him. I’ll take a bullet and more to protect Fyodor. I owe him my life, and no fucker—no matter how pathetic they might look—is getting close enough to harm him.”

“Maybe.” Fyodor falls silent, one hand pressed to his mouth as his brows come together. Deep in thought, the silence is broken only by the beep of the heart rate monitor and the occasional scrape of fabric as he walks back and forth.

Despite my reservations, I'm on board with keeping Zasha alive long enough to soothe Naomi. She’s far too sweet to face anything this dark. Initially having someone from the outside around here was something I’d been heavily against, but she’s grown on me.

Helps that she’s gorgeous.

“No one can know he’s here,” Fyodor decides. “I don’t care what happens out there but until he wakes up, no one can know.”

“Understood. Although …”

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