Page 37 of Plus-Size Bratva Bride

Pippa rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile. "This isn't funny, Abe. You could have internal bleeding or—”

"I'm fine," I interrupted, waving off her concern. "Nothing a bottle of vodka and a good night's sleep won't fix."

Her lips thinned, clearly unimpressed by my bravado. I sighed, remembering how I'd ended up in this predicament in the first place.

Just an hour ago, I'd been sitting in the back of my car, instructing my driver in no uncertain terms to keep his mouth shut about my condition.

"Not a word to anyone, Dmitri. I'll handle this myself," I'd growled, pressing a hand to my bleeding side. I had planned to sneak into my room.

"But sir," Dmitri had protested, eyes wide in the rearview mirror, "you need medical attention—”

"What I need," I'd cut him off, "is for you to do your damn job and drive. I'll slip into my room and patch myself up. No one needs to know about this little…incident."

I'd always prided myself on handling my own messes. As the muscle of the Unholy Trinity, it was my job to get my hands dirty. But this time, things had gotten a bit messier than anticipated. Still, no reason to worry the others. I had a reputation to uphold, after all.

As I stepped out of the car, wincing at the pain shooting through my side, I froze. There, standing in the driveway with her arms crossed and a worried frown on her face was Pippa. She rushed toward me, face etched with concern.

Before I could protest, she'd looped my arm around her shoulder, supporting my weight. I had to admit, I was impressed by her strength. For all her prim and proper appearance, Pippa was no delicate flower.

"Come on, you stubborn man," she muttered, leading me toward the house. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Back in the present, I watched as Pippa gently dabbed at a particularly nasty gash on my arm. Her touch was surprisingly tender, a stark contrast to her earlier brusqueness.

"You know," I drawled, trying to lighten the mood, "if I'd known getting beaten up was the way to get your hands on me, I'd have done it sooner."

Pippa rolled her eyes, but I caught the hint of a smile. "This isn't funny, Abe. You could have been hurt worse or—”

"I'm fine," I interrupted softly, not allowing her mind to go there.

Pippa's eyes flashed with annoyance as she pressed the antiseptic-soaked cloth against a particularly deep cut on my ribs. I hissed, more from surprise than pain.

"Damn it, Abe," she muttered, her eyes flickering to mine with concern. "What the hell happened out there?"

I leaned back slightly, giving her room to work as I recounted the events that led to my current sorry state. "Just a little scuffle with some unwanted guests," I replied nonchalantly, though inwardly, I cursed my luck. “We were on track to finding the man you saw with Tony when these goons tried to circumvent us.”

“Someone was protecting him,” she observed, with that keen eye of hers.

"I told Ivan and Vlad to hang back while I handled it," I explained, watching Pippa's expression shift from worry to curiosity. "You should've seen it, Doll. Five of them, thinking they could take me on. Man, I put on quite the show, you know? Had them begging for their lives, but then others joined in.”

I leaned in closer, lowering my voice conspiratorially. "First guy came at me with a knife. Amateur move. I had him disarmed and on the ground before he knew what hit him."

As I recounted the fight, I could feel the adrenaline pumping through my veins again. "The second and third, they tried to double-team me. But I'm not called the muscle of the Unholy Trinity for nothing."

I demonstrated a quick one-two punch, careful not to jostle Pippa as she worked. "Left hook to the jaw, right uppercut to the solar plexus. They went down like dominoes."

Pippa's hands stilled for a moment, her eyes wide. I couldn't tell if it was admiration or horror in her gaze, but I pressed on.

"The last two, well, they were the smart ones. Tried to run." I chuckled, then winced as the movement pulled at my injuries. "But not smart enough."

For a moment, I let the cocky grin slip, admitting, "Though I'll give them credit, that last big bastard got in a few good hits before I put him down."

I gestured to the gash Pippa was tending. "Hence the souvenir."

“Not much for a souvenir, is it now?” she hissed back. Was that fear and anger I heard in her voice?

I sat back while she continued to clean. “What happened then?” she asked.

“Well, Ivan and Vlad are on the heels of the second group that helped this bunch. We lost track of the man from the casino’s whereabouts.”

---