Page 62 of Plus-Sized Bratva Prisoner

“So, don’t take me home. Take me to one of the safehouses until I don’t look like I’m about to die.” I chuckle, but it shoots pain through my side.

“You know that’s going to be a few weeks, right? This isn’t going to heal overnight. What do you expect us to tell Tia when you have just disappeared, all of a sudden, for weeks?”

“Tell her I had to go away on business. Look man, figure it out. Right now just get me to a fucking bed and hand me a bottle of painkillers so that I can sleep till next Tuesday.” I lean my head against the backrest of the car seat, wishing the street lights outside weren’t so fucking bright, piercing more pain into my skull.

Fuck, I need something to take away this headache.

“You’re not going to get to sleep for a while. The doc is going to come see you and make sure you don’t have a concussion or internal bleeding or some shit. You really are a fucking moron, going into that territory alone.”

Oleg drives me to one of our safehouses, and between my three brothers, they carry me inside, slumped over their shoulders, barely able to stand.

I drop down onto the sofa with a cry of pain.

The doctor is already on his way to see me—I’m fine with that. He has some good meds and will inject the pain away. Then I can sleep. I want to sleep. I want to sleep, lying in Tia’s arms, listening to her sweet voice, but I fucked that up for now, so I guess I just want to sleep.

The sooner I sleep, the sooner I start to heal and the sooner I can see Tia again.

I am pissed off with myself. I don’t let Oleg know that, but I am.

I’m pissed off because now I have to stay away from Tia for a while, and it’s the last thing on earth that I want to be doing.

***

Over the next two days I get a few messages from Tia. She’s upset that I had to leave so suddenly for a business trip, but I can tell she is trying to be understanding.

I want to tell her I’m still in the same city. That I miss her. That I want to see her. But I can’t. I have to play it cool so that she doesn’t come looking for me.

I spend pretty much the entire time sleeping.

On the third day, I’m in bed upstairs, my body actually starting to feel a little better, when I’m woken by a sound, but I’m not sure what it is.

I roll over in bed, listening, but don’t hear anything else. Maybe I dreamed it.

Luckily, I didn’t break any ribs, but they are very bruised. And I do have a neat row of stitches on the back of my head. My eyes aren’t so swollen anymore that I can’t open them, and my mouth is feeling more normal. Maybe in another week and I can think about going home to Tia. I heal fast, and the beating felt worse than it was.

I roll over again with a heavy sigh. One of my brothers has left lunch on the table next to my bed. They’ve been taking turns to stop by every day and look out for me. That’s what family is for, and I have an amazing one.

Snuggling my face into the pillow, I close my eyes.

But then a very angry, very snappy voice comes from the bedroom doorway.

“Are you actually kidding me? Did you honestly think you could hide this from me?”

My eyes shoot open and I stare at Tia, her hands on her hips as she glares down at me.

“Tia—how—where—"

“Your sister obviously told me where you were. She wasn’t going to let me sit there at home, alone, wondering what the hell was going on.”

I slowly sit up in bed, feeling every bruise, every strained muscle.

Tia watches me with horror on her face as the blankets fall from my body and reveal the dark bruises across my ribs and arms, matching the bruises around my eyes and jaw.

“Yefim, you look terrible,” she sighs, rushing to the side of the bed, her anger replaced with tenderness.

“You should have seen me three days ago, I actually look pretty good now.” I chuckle, then grab the side of my body, trying to ease the pain.

“It’s not funny. It’s not even a tiny, little bit funny. Anya told me what you did. The debt collector contacted me to threaten me again. How was this worth it? All that happened is that he got more pissed off.”

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