Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“Mom!” I say, but I’m laughing too.
This is almost normal, well… on the surface. This is the sort of mother-daughter banter I’ve missed ever since Evan passed.
“If I were a smart man, I wouldn’t answer that question,” Maksim says, winking at me.
I smile, feeling lightheaded for a blissful moment.
“Maybe I’m asking you to be a fool for a little while, then,” Mom says, with some of her old wit.
He chuckles. “What do you think, Lia? Can I dare to answer?”
I place my cup down, my hand shaking slightly. “As long as you know I have access to serious surgical implements.”
He laughs harder, then turns to Mom. “The only thing that makes Lia tick is helping other people. It’s wired into her brain, into her heart. Your daughter is the most caring person I’ve ever met. She can’t help it. She can’t switch it off. It’s just who she is.”
Mom looks at me with glistening eyes. “That’s true. Yes, that’s her. That’s my girl.”
My stomach goes warm and fuzzy.
“I sometimes wonder…” Mom trails off with a loud swallow.
“Mom?” I whisper.
She looks at me. “I should be there for you more.”
“Mom, it’s fine.”
“It’s not,” she says. “And it shouldn’t take the words of a stranger to make me understand that.”
I walk across the room, bending down and hugging her. When I return to my chair, Maksim is looking at me with a soft expression.
He’s my watcher, my stalker, the man who’s obsessed with me, the man who lied, and yet I can’t downplay how special this is.
“You must be very good at your job,” Mom says. “You got into my head like that.” She laughs as she snaps her fingers.
“There’s always room for improvement,” Maksim mutters, glancing at the window. I know he’s thinking about security, about dead Daniel, about his enemies and threats. “But thank you, Ms. Quinn.”
“Evelyn, please.”
Another flurry in my belly. It feels like my boyfriend is meeting my mom. Which, of course, isn’t exactly what’s happening here. But I can’t deny how special it feels—
A backfiring car interrupts my thoughts. Then another. And another.
Maksim looks up and rushes across the room, taking a gun from his waistband. I realize I’m wrong. It’s not a car.
“Down!” he bellows.
He grabs my mom and lowers her to the floor, looking over at me, smiling nervously when he sees that I’ve already done as he said. I crawl to Mom and drape my body over hers, practically hyperventilating, trying not to panic.
“I didn’t think he was capable,” Maksim growls under his breath. “Rat.”
More gunfire. Mom is babbling, asking what’s going on, her voice tearing with sobs. My heart breaks as I realize I brought this to her door. By standing up to that goon, by refusing to give him the phone – and by giving myself to the Bratva king – I made us a target.
Maksim moves to the door, his gun raised.
“We’re leaving by the back,” he yells, voice raised above the surrounding gunfire. “You’ll have to crawl. I’m sorry.”
“Mom—please.” I tug on her arm. “Mom.”
She looks at me as if waking from a dream, only to realize she’s emerged into a nightmare. “Uh, yes, yes.” She blinks up at Maksim. “Why does he have a gun?”
My stomach drops. This is where lies have got us.
“Move,” Maksim says. “Please. Quickly.”
Mom and I crawl through the hallway, Maksim walking ahead of us, spinning to check behind. In the kitchen, he walks toward the door. It suddenly bursts open, and a man comes rushing in. Maksim turns, grabbing the man’s arm and throwing him over his shoulder.
He lands with a crunch.
“Argh!” Maksim roars when the man fires a shot up at him. It hits him in the side. Maksim shoots, two quick shots. Bang, bang. And the man lies there, a mess of death.
He moves to the door, wincing. Mom stares wide-eyed at the corpse on her kitchen floor.
“Don’t look,” I whisper, trembling. My experiences in the ER have made me tough, but this is still a lot. “Mom, just close your eyes.”
She does what I say, quivering.
“Boss,” a man with a Russian accent grunts, rushing into the room. “These bastards.”
“Car, now,” Maksim snarls.
“It’s ready.”
“Take her.”
He must point to Mom. A moment later, Maksim is bending down to pick me up. When he winces, I find my feet. “You’re too hurt to carry me.”
“I’ll never be too hurt for that,” he growls.
“Maksim, let me walk!”
He reluctantly lets me go, but keeps one hand wrapped around mine. The other man throws Mom over his shoulder, and we rush through the backyard. Maksim pushes me into the back of a large SUV, then climbs in after me. Mom climbs inside. The man slams the door, and the driver immediately pulls away.
I turn to Mom, checking she isn’t hit, then tear off strips of my clothes and apply pressure to Maksim’s wound. He stares out the window, his jaw tight.