Page 55 of Owned By The Bratva King

Quinn must sense me; before I can call out to her, her eyes lock with mine. Then she’s on her feet, flying toward me.

“Roman!” She leaps into my arms, and I hold her tight, hardly daring to believe she’s real. Her skin is blackened by smoke, and her hair is a rat’s nest, but I couldn’t care less, and I shower her face with kisses as she sobs.

“I was so scared,” she whispers. “I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t?—”

“You did, and you could.” I put my finger under her chin and tilt her head back. “Look at me. You saved Carrie’s life and your own.”

Her lips taste of salt and smoke. “And me, Quinn. You’ve saved my life, too. I thought I wanted you, but it was so much more; I needed you. I was obsessed with your innocence, but it’s your courage, your strength, that I can’t fucking quit. When I saw the fire, I was sure you were dead, and I wanted to die too. I’m nothing without you at my side, do you understand?”

“Yes.” She runs her hands through my hair, pressing her forehead to mine. “Carrie believes, and so do I.”

I close my eyes. If she says it, the universe could end, and I wouldn’t care.

If you’re there, God—please. One more favor. Just one.

The chaos around us fades away. Quinn’s voice is sweet and soft, her lips beside my ear.

“I love you, Roman.”

With that, the world rushes back into view, but it’s a different place. I will never be the same again. Who was I before her? Who the fuck cares?

I lean back to look at my wife and lock this moment away forever, only to find she’s looking straight past me.

“Over there,” she says. “It’s Gloria. The manager.”

43

Roman

Gloria looks like hell. She sits in the back of an ambulance, her arm wrapped in a gauze burn dressing. A male nurse is standing beside her, adjusting the drip running into her wrist.

“Are you family?” he asks when he sees us. “I’m waiting for a call to say I can bring this lady to the hospital. We’re overrun with casualties, as you can see?—”

I jump up the ambulance’s two steps, reach into my jacket, and withdraw my handgun. I don’t hesitate whatsoever, and the paramedic gasps when he feels cold steel against his temple.

“So one more casualty won’t make much difference, will it?” I push the man onto his side on the floor. “Or shall I make it easier on your colleagues and send you straight to the morgue?”

I take a wad of bills from my pocket and stuff it into his mouth. “Give me five minutes, and you can carry on. I won’t do anything to hurt this lady; I just wanna talk.”

I catch Quinn’s eye and realize she’s dumbstruck. Shit, I didn’t think about what I was doing.

The ease with which I threaten a man’s life suggests I have plenty of experience. The paramedic scurries hastily out of the ambulance, and I holster my gun before turning my attention to Gloria.

“What happened?” I ask. “Who was it?”

Gloria’s eyes are barely open. “I don’t know. Everyone was asleep except the night nurse on duty, and she didn’t make it out. “

“Does this place have cameras?”

Gloria nods. “They will have burned up. Oh, wait,” she furrows her brow, “no. The facilities people who maintain the parking lot came last week and fitted one in the trees beside the entrance. Some regulation change or something.”

Of course. Silvio knew he had to do the job himself—burning down a hospice home is a despicable act, even for the mob—so he did his research and came prepared.

Except he didn’t, because he made mistakes. He forgot the backup alarm and didn’t know about the new camera, presumably because he didn’t do proper reconnaissance. This is why professional arsonists are so well paid.

All I have to do is get Viktor onto his contacts and get that footage. Then I’ll have my proof and be able to go after him without any risk of the komissiya getting shitty about it.

“Roman.” I’m so lost in thought that Quinn’s voice seems to come from miles away. “You know what happened here, don’t you?”

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