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James nods and starts to swing the car.
“You two are fucking crazy.” Isabella is still yelling at us, and suddenly the back door flies open.
“Oh, fuck, here I go again,” Isabella mutters. I turn just in time to see her getting ready to jump out of the car. But she’s hesitating.
“Didn’t you lock the doors?”
“I did!” James nods and glances at the panel. “Fuck. My elbow must’ve hit the lock when I swung. It’s this small fucking SUV.”
“Isabella!” I yell, unbuckling my seatbelt and reaching through the seat to grab her. “Don’t you dare jump out of this car.”
But it’s too late. James is already bumping over the grass and into a ditch. The car has barely stopped, its wheels spinning like mad, when Isabella takes the opportunity to jump from the vehicle.
I fumble with the handle and spring out, taking after her.
“Isabella!” I shout, my voice hoarse with anger. I catch a glimpse of her darting through the trees, her form lithe and determined.
Before I can close the distance, a bullet whizzes past my ear, and I duck instinctively. The Zhukov Special Forces are closing in fast. I push forward, adrenaline pumping, using the trees for cover as bullets start to fly.
I glance toward the car and see James being pulled out by one of the Zhukov team.
“Fuck!” I turn to see Isabella being pulled behind a tree by one of them. I reach for my gun but freeze as a deep voice with a thick Russian accent rumbles behind me.
“Put the gun down slowly and kick it away.” I don’t have to turn around to know there’s a weapon or two trained on me.
I have no choice. I place the gun on the ground and kick it away from me. I raise my hands as I’m pushed forward where the other man brings James to stand beside me.
My eyes narrow as I see Konstantin emerge from the shadows.
“Fuck!” James hisses beside me. “It’s the devil himself.”
The man moves with the assured grace of someone who never loses. His eyes are focused on us for a few seconds before they scan the area, and his features soften.
“There you are!” Konstantin turns toward the man emerging from behind the tree with Isabella.
My heart lurches, and anger boils inside me when Isabella runs to him, flying into his arms. “Konstantin!” she cries, her voice breaking.
The anger continues to rise inside me at how Isabella runs from me, looking at who I am and the world I live in with disgust, claiming she’d never live the life I do. Yet she’s chosen to trust in her brother, who’s aligned with one of the biggest and most lethal Bratvas in the world.
My hands itch to rip the man’s throat out when Konstantin’s arms wrap around her, and I can see the strong bond that has formed between the siblings. Konstantin unfolds himself from Isabella’s arms and looks at her. The goons holding James and I move us closer to where Konstantin and Isabella are.
“Go with Pavel,” I hear him tell her in Russian.
“Don’t hurt them, please, Konstantin,” Isabella replies in perfect Russian before switching to what I think is Italian. “Sono famiglia, e Andrey è il padre dei miei figli.”
“Isabella speaks Russian?” I glance at James.
“We all do,” James answers, frowning. “You’re worrying about that?” His voice has an edge to it. “Didn’t you hear what Isabella just said?”
“Not to hurt us, and I didn’t understand the rest. She switched languages.”
“Isabella was speaking Italian.” He frowns at me. “Didn’t you have to learn it? Aren’t you a doctor?”
“You’re thinking about Latin,” I say softly. “And no, we didn’t, but I do know bits and pieces of the language. Isabella was speaking too fast for me to keep up.” I glance at him and see him staring at his cousins, looking worried. “What did she say?”
“They are family, and Andrey is the father of my child,” James repeats, and I go cold. “I think Isabella’s pregnant.”
“Are you sure that’s what she said?” Suddenly, her fainting and vomiting start to make sense—Isabella’s pregnant? Tiny waves of shock zap through me at the news. She’s having my baby? The word echoes through my brain.
