Page 24 of Root

Shit. I don’t care.

Sure he’s gorgeous.

Sure I’m not even in his league, a place I don’t even want to be, but… I take the pills and swallow. I know regular over the counter painkillers when I see them.

“When can I go?”

“Not until my husband gets some things straight. You’re on Wilder turf.”

Wilder turf? Try the heavily-guarded mansion and grounds. The compound. The one no one gets in or out of without the crime lord knowing.

So if this Nikolai wants to talk to me—it has to be talk and not code for murder since I saved his nephew—what does that make me? A fucking prisoner?

“I was working and then…Rush got jumped so I helped and got stabbed.”

Rose nods a small smile on her face as I swear to all that’s unholy a cat meows. But I don’t see one and she fusses over me and it’s enough to make me scream.

She’s what? A year or so older than me? I don’t know her age, but she’s maybe late twenties. She looks younger, like that softness innocence gives her shaves years off her age, but I know Rose has been married to Nikolai Wilder about seven or so years. Marriages of one of the most eligible bachelors, a dangerous, powerful one, is news.

“Nikolai wants to speak to you.” I go to throw the covers off, but a flash of fire hits her eyes. “Not now. When you feel better, obviously.”

“And how am I going to find him? Is he like the prison guard?”

Her mouth twists like she’s fighting a smile, but Rose stands. “You’re not a prisoner.” She pauses. “Yet.”

I jerk a little. “Yet?”

“Nikolai’s words.” And she goes a little dreamy. “There was some swearing, but I edited that out.”

“So, you do what he says?”

Rose leans in. “Not always, but it’s not a smart move to fuck with my husband because he’ll fuck you over right back and he doesn’t play. He’s bigger, meaner and more dangerous than you can even begin to imagine.”

I look at her. “It sounds like I’m a prisoner.”

“It sounds like it is what it is. You’re in his inner sanctum. He brought in the very best to take care of you, and, when you’re feeling better, he wants to talk. That’s it.”

I nod, drink the water down and put the glass on the bedside table. “So I should do this now.”

“When you’re up to it.”

“How will I find him?”

Rose smiles but those eyes are watchful, intelligent and she’s most definitely more than she seems.

“There’s someone outside your room, always; they’ll take you down when you’re ready. Rest in the meantime. There’s the ensuite through that door if you need the bathroom or want a shower—” she points to the right “—and someone will be up with some clothes, but there’s a robe and more PJs. Take your time. I’ll check on you later with some food.”

And then she leaves, a soft sway to her hips in her tailored suit that, even though it’s not something I’d ever fucking wear, I know it’s to die for.

Poor fucking choice of words.

There’s finding information on the Wilder family for interested parties, there’s even finding a way into their world and then there’s being in the belly of the damn beast. I was asked to do the first, they’ll take the second, and the third? Pure fucking danger. Still, saving Rush, getting stabbed, it’s gotta account for something.

But I don’t know how long I’ve been here. I feel the stitches, and they’re professional, I can tell that from the small, neat bites that hold the wound together. Beyond that…I don’t get stabbed nearly often enough—at all—to know what kind sutures they are or how long they’re to be in.

Slowly I sit up, and wince. I swing out of bed, feet touching the cool smoothness of wood. My stomach lurches but I stand.

No way am I not going to get this over and done with. I need to call Brutus, aka Jack, my brother.

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