Page 73 of The Den of Sin
“I thought that guy would kill me, and I’d never be able to do this with you again.”
Her admission tore at my heart. First because she was in that position because of me, and second that her thoughts were of being with me at that time.
“He will never get to you again,” I vowed. “I won’t let him.”
The trust in her eyes was enough to bring me to my knees. Her mother was right, Isabella was too soft but in all the right ways. If Lombardo Santos would have gotten his clutches on his daughter, he would have destroyed that in her. So would have his eldest son, Vincent. I still had reservations about Raphael Santos, but so far, the dealings with him struck me as fair. Still, I was an untrusting bastard even though my sixth sense told me Raphael was a completely different man from his father and his older brother.
Lombardo would have probably married Bella off to some cruel motherfucker, for his own personal gain. I have been hiding Isabella’s trail from them for the past five years. Sasha might have done me a favor when he killed the bastard.
“I saw him earlier today,” she murmured. “Or I guess yesterday since it is way past midnight.”
It was what sent me into a rage and made me blow up on Adrian. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. She was under my protection, had been since the moment I laid eyes on her. I fooled myself into thinking she was nothing to me. She has been everything to me that second we locked eyes and her small hand reached out to me to shake it in introduction.
“I know,” I murmured gruffly, grazing her skin with my nose. “It was the reason I acted like a prick when I found you. I was worried to death that someone had snatched you.”
“I guess the rumors in college were true,” she muttered.
Her mother kept her out of this world and here I was dragging her into it. I should have done a better job protecting her. Would this soft woman forgive me if she knew all I had done?
“Let’s get you to bed,” I said instead. I was a bastard for taking her again. She was tired and had a long day. “You look tired.”
She nodded and quickly shampooed her hair and then rinsed off. But I could see the wheels in her brain spinning, thinking it all through. How much did she know about Santos? I heard her mention it the day I stalked her at her mother’s hospital. But her mother told me she kept that a secret from Isabella.
Within the next ten minutes, we were both showered, changed, and ready for bed. There was just something so sexy in watching her move around my bedroom, brushing her teeth over my sink wearing my shirt. I had pajama pants on and no shirt. I usually slept nude so even this was too much clothing to sleep in. But Isabella looked like a little goddess with my shirt on and barefoot.
“Okay, let’s go check on Sasha,” she said, her gaze on me. There were dark circles under her eyes and purplish bruises were stark against her skin. I wanted to carry her, but I knew she’d object so I settled for taking her hand.
We headed back towards the side of the house I kept the medical room in. That was the job I wanted Isabella to take. She didn’t know it but she applied for it. I called it a private clinic, and I guess it somewhat was.
We entered the room, hand in hand, and I was happy to see that a large couch had been brought in already, with pillows and a large blanket. I would have rather had her in my bed but that would happen soon enough.
“Hi there,” she greeted my half-brother. Her half-brother. I made a promise to her mother on her deathbed. I found him a year after her death. Bitter, angry, beaten down, and damaged… all because of my mother. She took it out on an innocent kid. It was a miracle we came to terms, but he was a Nikolaev. He carried the name now and he was family, regardless of what had happened. I would always have his back. “I’m Isabella, by the way.”
He knew who she was. Alexei had been watching over her from the moment he learned he had a sister. In a way he felt closer to Isabella than Tatiana, although officially he just met the former. In his eyes, Isabella was alone and under threat from Santos. I had no doubt that if it came down to choosing Isabella’s side or the Nikolaev’s, he would choose his sister’s. And it didn’t bother me one bit.
“I’m Alexei.” His voice was hoarse.
I watched him eyeing Isabella as she moved around Sasha, checking his vitals. He was too young when he was taken from his mother, but he knew how she looked from photographs. Isabella resembled her mother a lot. He looked after her from the shadows. But she didn’t know about him. She would have to be eased into it.
Isabella pulled at the bandage to check on Sasha’s gun wound. I leaned against the wall, letting her do her thing, watching the two siblings. It was interesting how different Alexei responded to Isabella versus Tatiana. In a lot of ways, Tatiana and Alexei were similar. Both grew up without either parent around so they had emotional scars and hid them under a thick layer of assholeness.
But with Isabella, he watched her protectively, the emotional detachment he usually had around everyone slightly loose around her. Like he wanted that attachment with her. This might be good for him. Sasha and I were unable to offer that attachment. We were too fucked up ourselves; growing up in a family that runs a criminal underworld would do that to you.
“I’m going to clean it out and re-bandage him. Okay?”
“You’re the doctor,” Alexei grumbled, his eyes never wavering.
She wasn’t perturbed though. She just smiled at him and went on changing Sasha’s bandages all the while Alexei watched her every move.
“You’re good at this.” His voice was gruff, but he was also impressed.
“Thanks.” Her eyes searched out mine. “We’ll check in the morning for infection, but so far, it is looking good.”
Abruptly, Alexei stood up and strode to the door.
“You good?” I asked him in Russian. I couldn’t help but worry about him, just as I did with Sasha. It took him a year after I found him to finally start easing up around us, but he never really opened up. The scars ran too deep. My fists balled up just thinking about the fucking hell he had gone through because of my mother. And I was dishing revenge on her behalf. I had never been so fucking wrong.
Alexei’s childhood was brutal, thanks to my mother. She dumped him at the Boston Bratva doorstep. He was tortured and abused from a young age, with enough scars under his ink to cover ten men. Eventually, he became a contract killer, a hunter, and worked best alone. In fact, Cassio King admired him and wanted him on his team, but Alexei’s darkness refused to be part of anyone’s team. He hunted and avenged. If my mother wasn’t dead, I was inclined to think I’d finish her off myself. I wasn’t good at therapy shit, so I helped my brother the only way I knew how. By teaching him effective torture skills. So he’d make those men he hunted pay.
