Page 94 of Sweet Animosity

Her assailant?

The other Russian?

Odd though that they wouldn’t call out a demand or order.

It was then that I smelled a strange chemical pine vapor emanating from the room.

I shoved at the door. It shifted open barely an inch, but it was enough.

Just on the other side, my girl was lying on the floor.

CHAPTER 33

VAR

Two Chicago police squad cars screeched in behind me as I stopped directly in front of the ambulance bay at the nearest hospital.

As I opened my car door and raced around to the passenger side where Vivian lay unresponsive, they drew their weapons.

“Get down on the ground.”

“Stop where you are!”

“Down on the ground!”

I turned and faced them. “Put those fucking guns away.”

If Vivian were to suddenly open her eyes, the last thing I wanted her to see was a bunch of cops with guns trained on her.

Throwing open the passenger door, I gathered her in my arms and turned toward the emergency entrance.

The cops ran up to us. “We didn’t know it was you, Mr. Rubashkin. What can we do?”

Just then, an orderly came running out. “You can’t leave your car there!”

I gestured over my shoulder to the cops. “They’ll move it.”

Crashing through the swinging emergency doors, I called out, “I need a doctor here! She’s not breathing.”

Two nurses and a doctor ran over.

As one nurse turned to get a gurney, the doctor leaned over Vivian and lifted her eyelid. As she shone a light on Vivian’s pupils, she asked, “What happened to her?”

My gaze fell on Vivian’s still features and her faintly purple lips. My stomach twisted so painfully, I wanted to vomit. She was usually so full of passion and fire. To see her body lifeless in my arms, her cheeks ashen, was almost more than I could bear.

“I’m not sure. She’s an artist. I found her in a closed room with a chemical smell.”

The doctor turned and gestured for the gurney to roll up to her side even as she brought a stethoscope to Vivian’s chest. “How long was she exposed? Do you know?”

“I don’t.”

Against common sense, I wanted to keep Vivian in my arms. There was a primal need to try to warm her body with the heat of my own. To try to somehow share my beating heart, my very breath. It wasn’t remotely rational, but I wasn’t thinking rationally.

My girl. My beautiful, stubborn, full-of-life girl was possibly dying.

And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

As they strapped Vivian down, the doctor shouted orders over the chaos. I tried to follow but was stopped by a nurse. “You need to wait here, sir.”

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