Page 111 of Tarnished Queen

We pull up to the compound, fingers still entwined as that familiar, addictive tension builds in my gut. I’m so focused on Belle that I don’t immediately notice the white truck parked along the curb.

Or the person slouched over in the driver’s seat.

It’s not until Belle grabs my arm and points in shock that I see. “Nikolai!”

I curse and pull up alongside Christo’s truck. Whatever is going on here, it’s not good. I want Belle as far away from this as possible. “Get in the driver’s seat and go inside the gates. I’ll be there in a second.”

I get out of the car, and Belle climbs over the console and takes my place. A second later, she drives forward through the gates.

I approach Christo’s truck with my gun in my hand.

I can’t see his face, but he doesn’t move when I knock on the glass. When I pull the driver’s side door open, he flops to the side. The only reason he doesn’t splatter on the pavement is because I catch him.

“What the fuck happened to you, man?” I demand.

Christo responds with a muted, pain-filled groan.

Grimacing, I push him across the bench seat to the passenger side and then get behind the wheel of the truck. There’s blood caked on the steering wheel and more of it dried on the seat beneath me.

“Pretty early in the day to look like this,” I remark. I elbow him lightly in the side, forcing another groan out of him. “How long have you been here?”

Christo groans again, but I can't tell if he can hear me or not. He’s still mumbling something incoherent when I pull up to the security shack. The guard inside is ready to refuse entry until he does a double take and sees me behind the wheel.

"Don Zhukova!" he sputters. "I saw your car, and I thought—"

"That's why you should make everyone roll down their tinted windows. Even me," I tell him. "Lucky for you, that was only Belle."

"I will, sir. I'm sorry." Then he looks past me to Christo. If he’s shocked to see me sitting next to a partially-conscious, bloody Greek, he doesn’t show it.

“How long was this truck parked on the street?” I ask.

“It showed up ten minutes after you left for the airport. Might have been during shift change. I didn’t see the driver get out. Kept an eye on it, though. I was gonna go check it out in a few minutes.”

I give him a wave of thanks and he opens the gate. As soon as I park, Belle appears at the driver’s side door. “Is he okay?”

I climb out and walk around the car, Belle trailing behind me. “Are you worried about Christo now?” I ask. “I thought you two weren’t friends.”

“That doesn't mean I don't care if he dies,” she snaps. “Who did this to him? This is clearly a message, right?”

“Looks like it. But from who, I don’t know exactly. Though I have my theories.” I hand her the house keys. “I’ll carry him. You unlock the doors.”

Belle grabs the keys and jogs up the steps. By the time I get Christo to the porch, the door is open and Belle is in the foyer telling a maid to get supplies.

“Towels, a bowl of water, some bandages, and some kind of antiseptic.” She waves for me to follow her. “Put him in the living room.”

“I keep a doctor on call, Belle. You don’t need to do this.”

She pushes aside the throw pillows on the sofa and lays out a blanket for him. “We technically don’t even know that it wasn’t your men who did this, right?"

“If any of my men did this, I’ll kill them,” I growl. Outright disobedience like this would have to be dealt with swiftly. This is the kind of resentment that festers and gets kings killed.

“So I’ll take care of him until you’re sure. The last thing Christo needs is the Bratva doctor slipping him some poison.”

“Poison isn’t the Bratva way,” I say, gesturing to Christo’s bloody body. "We're more hands-on."

Belle grimaces. “Clearly.”

I stand back and watch her work, only occasionally stepping in to lift Christo up so Belle can wrap a bandage around his middle or adjust the blankets. But mostly, I observe. I didn’t love finding an unconscious man practically on my doorstep, but I do love seeing Belle take charge.

---