“Bitch,” Jacob snarls, stumbling to his feet.
Michail barks something in Russian that I don’t understand, but I get the gist of it as Andrei and Vova get to work, beating the ever-loving shit out of Jacob.
“Meghan, go on and head home. Don’t bring that gun into the shop again. If Kronid knew you carried it with Dema being pregnant, he wouldn’t be pleased,” Michail chastises her.
“Oh please, Michail. I’m a big girl and know how to use a gun. My papa made sure to teach me a long-time ago. Now, how about instead of having both Andrei and Vova taking the scumbag to wherever the hell you’re talking about, you get one of them to drive you to the hospital before Trista flips out. But before we dive into that shit, you can’t tell me none of you carry, so suck my dick. You won’t take away my right, and I won’t take away yours,” Meghan snaps.
“I can drive myself there,” Michail sneers. “It’s where we’re going anyway. Vova, make sure Meghan gets home safely.” With his command, he leads me away from everyone and to his waiting car.
“Do you want me to drive?” I ask apprehensively. I haven’t driven since being here. I’ve either walked or took other forms of transportation.
“Kukukla, I can drive. This is nothing. I’ve had cat scratches worse than this,” Michail grinds out angrily but touches my hand in tenderness before starting the car.
I don’t say a word as he drives us to the hospital. I’m sure I could’ve put up more of a fight about him driving while hurt, but for some reason, I didn’t. Maybe because I saw the determination in his eyes. He was going to take himself there without help, regardless of whatever I said. He’s stubborn like that.
Now I’m thinking about it. He better not think I’ll be leaving him for a second when we get to the hospital. I know he’s so determined to do things alone, but not this. I need to be by his side the entire time because the fear is going to rip through me and I know it.
It seems like time goes at a snail’s pace until we get to the hospital. I walk into the emergency department with Michail and they whisk him off to the back. The nurses tried to keep me in the waiting room, but it wasn’t happening.
I threw a fit and Michail snarled at the one nurse who said she’d call security to escort me out if I didn’t calm down. He made it very clear I was staying with him and that was that. He even named drop Katya and the woman instantly calmed down. She must be some sort of sponsor here.
Michail lays on the gurney and removes his shirt as instructed. I move to stand near his head. A nurse comes in and starts cleaning him up while she curls her lip.
Well, screw you, too, then. Michail might not’ve claimed me officially or made any attempts of some form of commitment, for that matter. Even though it’s true, I sense I could have some sort of commitment with him. It doesn’t have to be marriage or anything else of the sort. As long as I know his heart belongs to me, I’d be thrilled. It’s all I need.
By the time the doctor stitches Michail’s side, my own stomach tightens up and feels very uneasy. He should never have been hurt in the first place and because he is, I’ve never felt a pang of guilt like this. Everything that happened tonight is nobody’s fault but my own.
Sitting up from the gurney fully patched up and ready to go, Michail looks at me. The nurse who assisted the doctor in stitching him up left us a few moments ago to get a scrub top for him to put on.
“Ready to go?” he asks cautiously.
I bite my lower lip nervously and nod without a word.
Michail furrows his brow, reaches for me, and takes my hand to pull me closer to him. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, on the verge of tears.
My emotions are all over the place and I need to stop.
I’ve known Michail for about eight months now and the fact he could’ve died tonight guts me. This was too close, too close to possibly losing him.
“Kukukla, talk to me,” he demands.
“It’s my fault,” I whisper hesitantly.
“What’s your fault?”
“This.” I nod to his side and a tear slips down my cheek. “You were hurt because of me.”
“Trista, don’t. You didn’t do anything. Don’t take on guilt that doesn’t belong on your shoulders,” he murmurs, pulling me against his chest. He presses his lips to mine, kissing me senseless.
Tension leaves me and I let the guilt go because all I need to know in this world is that he doesn’t blame me for what happened today. While it might take a little bit of time for me to convince myself of that, I can breathe a little easier tonight.
Chapter Nineteen
Michail
We just walked through Trista’s front door and the first thing I want to do is rip this fucking scrub shirt off. It’s uncomfortable as hell and isn’t something I want to be seen in. Fuck, I’d rather be shirtless than deal with this itchy thing on my skin. We make it into her kitchen and I place my hands on the island, catching my breath. I’ve been stabbed before, shot even, but I was younger. Guess my body could adapt a bit easier to it.
Pulling my right arm through the shirt, I then pull my left one out and start to pull the shirt up, but the pain intensifies and I let out a frustrated growl.
“Here, let me,” Trista’s soothing voice comes up from behind me and she pulls the shirt up to my neck, then stands on her tippy toes and removes it completely.
“Thank you,” I tell her, frustrated I can’t even do the
