Page 68 of Heart of a Devil

That left us free to concentrate on the search for Nicky and left me free to concentrate on Lauren. She was doing a magnificent job of not only keeping her shit together, but also of motivating the rest of us, but I could tell she was suffering beneath the surface. I wanted—no, needed to be with her in case she crashed. And really, who could blame her? She fought for her life, saved mine, killed a man, and was exposed to that fucking house of horrors near Dover. If we hadn’t found Nicky when we did, I’m not sure how she would have coped.

Standing outside Nicky’s room, I watch the two of them through the window. The boy is doing well, and the docs here say he’ll make a full recovery. His arm has been re-cast, he’s on a drip for fluids, and he’s finally warm. Physically, he’s going to be fine. The rest will be a work in progress, the poor kid.

He was hiding in that tree trunk for three nights while Volkov got what he needed from Caroline and cleaned house. I’m sure he sent men to look for him, but Nicky outsmarted them all. He’s clever and brave, but right now he feels broken, and I understand that. He won’t even have his revenge to look forward to, because Volkov is already dead. Still, I’m glad we saved him from that. Killing your own dad, no matter how evil, isn’t ever going to be a simple thing.

Lauren showered after we got Nicky here, and her dark curls lay damp on her shoulders. Although the boy is asleep, she continues to hold Nicky’s hand. She must be exhausted herself, but she refuses to leave. Refuses to stand down in any way.

Like I said, fucking magnificent. She’s still wearing my ring, and I can’t wait to make her mine——as much as a creature like her can ever be anyone’s—and slide another one onto her finger.

“You’re a lucky man.” Sasha catches me by surprise, joining me by the window and nodding in Lauren’s direction. “She is an incredible woman. I think I might be in love with her.”

“Yeah? First my daughter, now my woman? Are you deliberately trying to get me to smash your face through this plate of glass, pal?”

He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “I apologize. What can I say? I have a generous spirit when it comes to women. But in all seriousness, she is marvelous, Sebastian. I love her ferocity, her loyalty, Plus, she has an absolutely amazing a?—”

“Stop right there, or we’re going to have a problem. I know she does, but I don’t want to hear those words coming out of your mouth. Fuck. I can’t believe she killed Volkov.”

Sasha’s face lights up at the memory. “I know. Axe to the chest. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer man. I was hoping to have a little more time to play with him, but I’m not complaining. I meant what I said earlier though—he will be replaced. They always grow back.”

“Like mushrooms in shit?”

“Yes. It’s one of my missions to be there to cut them back down. If ever you or your lovely fiancée would like in on that action, say the word. The law doesn’t work for pigs like this. It takes scum to wipe out scum.”

“You’re not scum, Sasha. You’re a good man, and you’re my friend.”

He looks genuinely moved and envelops me in an unexpected bear hug. Sometimes I forget how emotional he can get, but it usually only happens when he’s a bottle of vodka in. I find myself wondering, too, about what he said regarding his vigilante approach to the Volkovs of the world. It’s not entirely without its appeal.

We’re interrupted by the arrival of Gabriel, who’s holding a sleeping Max, and Samantha, who nods to Sasha. He politely makes his farewells and leaves us to it.

“Dad, I’m so glad you’re all okay and that you found Nicky. Gabriel’s only just let me out of the house,” my daughter says, giving me a hug. It must be my lucky day—or maybe I look like a man who really needs a hug.

“Good,” I reply. “I’d have been disappointed at anything less. We weren’t being overprotective, Sam. The threat was real. You and Max spending a few hours in the basement is a small price to pay to keep you safe, you know that.”

She kisses me on the cheek. “I do know that, yes.” She glances through the window at Lauren and Nicky, who looks tiny in an adult hospital bed. “Oh, look at him… He’s got a tough road ahead, hasn’t he?”

“That he has,” I say, following her gaze. “But at least he’s alive to walk it. How’s Taylor?”

Gabriel has been checking in on him and keeping me up to date. “He’s good. He’s out of surgery, and the docs say he’s some kind of miracle. He shouldn’t be alive, not with his injuries or the amount of blood he lost, but… Well, he’s proving them wrong. He’s also asking for you, mate. I know you’ve had your issues with him in the past, but bear in mind the man took a bullet for you, okay?”

My temper flares at his words, which only goes to prove his point. “All right, Dad,” I say sarcastically. “I’ll be good. Keep an eye on Lauren for me?”

Samantha gazes in at Lauren and Nicky, and I see her eyes widen. She whirls around and points a finger at me. Looks like she immediately homed in on one tiny detail. Amidst all the drama, she spotted the damn engagement ring before I had a chance to tell her.

“You’d better bloody mean it this time, Dad,” she scolds, but then breaks out into a beautiful smile.

I get yet another hug and grin at her sheepishly. “I do mean it, love. With all my heart.” She plants a noisy kiss on my cheek, and Gabriel shakes my hand.

“Congratulations, mate,” he says. “Now don’t fuck it up, all right?”

I laugh as I make my way down the corridor, thrilled with their reaction. One day, when all this Volkov dust has settled, we’ll have a party and celebrate properly. For now, though, there are still questions to be answered and difficulties to be faced.

A nurse is leaving Taylor’s room as I arrive, and I find Alex and Jacob already in there. They look up at me, then glance at each other. “We’re off to get a coffee, Boss.” Alex stands up and stretches his arms.

“Or a double Scotch,” adds Jacob. “Did you know there’s a bar in this place? It’s not like any fucking hospital I’ve been in before, that’s for sure.”

The two of them leave, and I take a seat next to Taylor. He looks rough, but a lot better than the last time I saw him. Wires and tubes are sticking out from him in every direction, and the green-and-blue swirl pattern of his hospital gown looks a bit psychedelic.

“Bet your arse hangs out of that thing if you stand up,” I say, taking in his ghostly pallor and the way he winces with the slightest movement.

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