Page 27 of Nanny for the Bratva Daddies

Snow falls around us and she hovers over me with blood streaming down the side of her face. The same tears flood her eyes and she looks so utterly distraught that my heart clenches painfully.

“I … know you?”

Somehow. Somehow I know her but it’s so fleeting. Someone as beautiful as her, surely I would remember more than just a glimpse?

She nods, her entire body trembling. Slowly, I remove my hand from her mouth.

“I found you,” she gasps. “I mean, technically I hit you with my car—well not my car, my boss’s car—and they brought you here and I’m so sorry, you…you’re safe, I promise. You were so badly injured.”

Her words don’t make sense. I frown deeply as water cascades down around us like a rainstorm and my body throbs like one giant bruise.

“When?” I demand.

“About…about a week ago?” Her lower lip trembles violently. “My name is Naomi. Yours…yours is Zasha.”

A hail of footsteps thunder into the room, skidding to a stop when they splash into the water rising in the kitchen. Keeping one hand on Naomi’s shoulder, I whirl around and aim my gun up at the intruders.

A man with a face like thunder and dark curls glares at me, flanked by several other men, one wearing sunglasses. That many men and the pain in my mind dulls my thoughts back to instinct and I squeeze the trigger.

Naomi squeals but the gun simply clicks and nothing happens. The man I’m aiming at doesn’t even flinch and I realize, weakly, that the water must have clogged the gun.

Shit.

The stranger darts forward, tackling me with his entire bulk and carrying me off Naomi with a single move. Struggling to get my legs underneath me, I drive my fist into his solid gut as we hit the counter. Agony flares up my spine, and I cry out. Then his fist impacts my jaw, and weakness bursts through me from head to toe.

I crumple to the ground, landing in the water as darkness seeps across my vision.

Naomi.

She sits up, tears spilling down her cheeks and her striking green eyes are the last thing to vanish as darkness swallows me whole.

Who is she?

Who … am I?

10

NAOMI

Fyodor’s hand wraps around mine and he hauls me upward, but I can’t take my eyes off of Zasha.

He’s awake—or rather, he was. And somewhat aware but the confusion was so clear in his eyes that my heart breaks for him. I can’t imagine what it must have been like to wake up here with no one around.

I take a step to follow the guards dragging Zasha away, eager to tend to him and somewhat driven by the guilt of knowing I contributed to his situation. Fyodor stops me. His hand darts from my wrist to my upper arm and he hauls me backward so quickly that my footing slips on the flooded kitchen floor.

Water rains down around us from the broken faucet, and the weight of my soaked clothes against my back weighs me down slightly as I turn.

Fyodor’s eyes are jet black. His lips press together in a firm line, and his jaw tenses so sharply that the angle could easily slice through glass.

“Fyodor?” My nerves, frayed from being tackled by Zasha, cause my voice to tremble and my heart skips a painful beat while I stare up at him.

He doesn’t speak. He stands there, staring at me while water rains like diamonds around him as the remaining guards filter out of the kitchen to tend to Zasha and aid the unconscious guard.

The moment we’re alone, Fyodor surges forward. One hand presses firmly to the side of my neck, and our mouths collide with such force that I have to take a step back to maintain balance—at least, I try to. His hand on my arm drops to wind around my waist, and Fyodor draws me firmly against his solid body.

My mind goes blank.

A shot of nerves pulses through me from head to toe, and my heart stutters to a stop for a split second.

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