Page 113 of Stolen By The Bratva King

“You scared me, Leon,” he says. “When we get back to Manhattan, I’m gonna give you a big kiss, then punch your fucking lights out.”

Leon chuckles, then winces. I move in close to my husband, and he drops his head onto my shoulder, kissing my collarbone.

“Sweet Jesus,val’kiriya. Am I alive?”

“You would have died for me.” I laugh through my tears, my hand delving into his hair. “I thought you already had.”

I touch his back, but there’s no blood, and I set about unbuttoning his shirt. “How are you even talking? I gotta see what’s going on here.”

I move carefully, conscious of Leon’s hitching breath. Roman is examining the twitching Reggiani, but he turns when he hears Viktor laughing.

Leon’s bulletproof undershirt is ridiculously high-tech and undetectable beneath his regular clothing. I didn’t feel it when I touched him, let alone see it.

“What do I keep telling you?” Leon says, sliding his eyes to Viktor. “Wear your fucking kevlar. Shame I had to go to these lengths to make my point.”

Viktor parts his coat and lifts the hem of his shirt. “I do listen sometimes, boss. Russian military standard issue, though not as slick as your sci-fi number.”

“It still stings like a bitch, you know.” Leon grits his teeth, and I help him to his feet. “It was like being hit by a baseball bat wielded by an over-caffeinated gorilla. Good thing I have ribs, even if they’re not all in one piece.”

My husband is not just alive. He’s his goofy self, drunk on relief and the sweet, stoned feeling of dropping adrenaline.

“Weren’t you afraid Reggiani would shoot you in the head?” I ask.

“I was certain he would. I never imagined the vest would save me; it was the one thing I could think of that might make a difference, but I wasn’t counting on it. I thought I was cooked.”

Leon tries to stand. Roman and Viktor come to his aid, taking his weight by ducking under each of his arms.

“I’m alright,” he says. “Just gotta get my feet under me.”

We go out of the door, and Leon squints into the darkness. “That’s my car. Roman, you asshole, what did youdoto it?”

“That would be me,” I say. “I drove like a lunatic and nearly crashed into these guys.”

“Moya zhena,youcan do what you like. If Roman had done that to my wheels?—”

“Jesus, Leon, shut up,” Roman says as we reach the vehicle. “Take a few deep breaths and relax.”

We climb into the back of the car, and Leon slumps against the seat, dropping his head back.

“Holy fucking shit.” He grasps around for my hand and seizes it, kissing my palm. “I would have died for you, but God damn it.”

His voice cracks. “I wanted to live for you and be the man you think I can be.”

“You alreadyarethat man.” I nestle against the good side of his chest, and he wraps an arm around me. “I fell in love with you, not some other version. You may be a pakhan and an all-round menace, but you’re my husband, and I’m taking you home.”

I glance up to see Desi in the front passenger seat. Roman gets into the driver’s side and fires up the engine.

“This dude insisting on riding shotgun, so Captain Kevlar is gonna stay here and coordinate the clean-up,” he says.

He points at the buttons on the dash. “You wanna press that, kid? It makes the screen move. Let’s give them some privacy.”

Leon grips my chin, turning my face to his. As he drops his lips to mine, Desi turns and sees us kissing.

“Blech,” he says.

Leon and I wave at him as the screen whirrs into place.

“You’re alive,” I say, almost to myself. I stroke his jaw as my thumb grazes his lower lip. “I can’t believe what a badass you are. You’re so cool.”

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