Page 22 of Innocent Bratva Virgin

All that added up to Vlad being involved in something shady.

As a therapist, you weren’t supposed to judge your patients. They were coming to you to improve their lives, but chances were that bits and pieces of those lives weren’t squeaky clean because of their current predicaments.

This was a first for me.

Not because I didn’t have other people I’d spoken to—both alone and with guidance—who didn’t have complicated pasts, but because I was fairly sure that Vlad was involved with something deeply illegal. Call it a counselor’s instinct, but this entire situation was not reading “harmless mixup.”

“Vlad,” I whispered while still giving my words bite, “what the hell is going on? Why do you need me to get you out of her so damn fast?”

After sliding in from looking out our door, Vlad faced me and sighed. There was no phone to help him, and it looked like he wasn’t in the mood to write anything down either. Instead, he gestured, and I did my best to follow along.

He pointed out the window toward where the men had been gathered, and I looked out through the window to see that they’d gone somewhere else except for the guy, who was currently unconscious in the hospital bed.

“Okay, yeah. They’re gone.”

Vlad then jabbed his finger down the direction of the hallway opposite them. He grabbed my hand, and we were flying out of the room before I could say another word.

“Goddamn it,” I whispered, “this is not answering my question.”

But Vlad didn’t look like he cared much, and when we were about halfway down the long hall, he yanked us into a room off to the side that appeared to be some sort of nurse’s closet. There were basic supplies here, such as a few rolling metal trays and a collection of folded scrubs and towels.

“Seriously, Vlad. I’m not driving you anywhere until you talk to me.” He glared in my direction as he pulled on some scrubpants under his hospital Johnny and then the top. “You know what I mean.”

With a groan, he dressed and came up to me, ready to leave the room again. I planted my feet, meeting his annoyed expression with one of my own.

“Answers.”

I knew there was little he could explain via gestures, but I wanted whatever Vlad could give me. He rolled his eyes and then pointed back down the hall where we’d come from. I nodded, and then Vlad mimed a gun again, tracking and then pulling the trigger dramatically. The last hint was a point to his own chest.

“They wanted to shoot you?” Vlad wobbled in his head in a half-yes, half-no, pointing down at the floor aggressively. “They still want to shoot you?”

He nodded.

My eyes flared wide, and I shook my head. “Oh, no. This is a matter for the police. I don’t want to be involved in some thug…drug dealer…nonsense!”

Vlad yanked me back by the bicep when I tried to leave, shaking his head. He poked his finger into my chest and then mimed shooting again.

“Me? Why would they want to shoot me?”

I furrowed my brows as I studied Vlad’s expression. As stoic and focused as he’d been since he saw the men outside his room, he looked sick to his stomach. He closed his eyes, let out a long breath, and then pointed at himself. When he met my stare again, he shoved his finger harder into his pec, raising his brows at me.

“You? Because they saw me with you?”

He nodded.

“Well, shit.”

I was strongly considering breaking down or just snapping completely. Still, there was just enough self-preservation left in me that I didn’t want to wait around to find out if Vlad’s stalkers were really that upset.

“Fine. We can go to my place. But I swear to God, the second you’re in reach of a damn pen, you’re going to explain a lot more about what the hell is going on.”

It was exceedingly difficult to be intimidating when speaking to someone with at least five inches on you, but I tried my best.

After a beat, Vlad nodded once, and that was it. He hauled us out of the closet again and down the long hall, following the exit signs.

Chapter 10 - Vlad

I couldn’t fucking believe that the Italians wound up at the same hospital Emory took me to. Sure, it was the closest in the area, but those assholes must have been desperate if they even went to a hospital. They were fucking mafia, after all, and doctors tended to call the authorities once they figured that out.

---