Page 17 of A Surprise Baby for the Russian

“Something scary, like a skull, or a wolf. Or a hit list, maybe?”

“The cross has been intimidating people for two thousand years.”

I smile, not that he can see me behind his back. “Does it mean anything, personally?”

“It reminds me of my grandmother,” he says. “She was religious, saw the good in everybody. She died when I was young. I got it at eighteen.”

I work for a moment, cleaning the wound. “I’m surprised you don’t have Dostoevsky’s face tattooed on you somewhere, seeing how you admire him so much.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t?”

I stop and look at the side of his face. He is looking at the wall, poker face locked down. I genuinely cannot tell if he is joking, and I have the strong suspicion that this is deliberate. I tape the last piece of dressing down and come around to check the sling. I don’t ask about the Cyrillic script along his left ribs, even though I am dying to reach out and trace those letters with my fingertips. There’s something about the dark ink against his lightly tanned skin that, against my better judgment, I find enthralling.

I take a deliberate step back, trying to break the gravity of his presence, but my eyes linger on his torso. He catches me. His gaze shifts from the white cabinets to the line of my vision with a slow, predatory awareness. He doesn’t shift away from my inspection. Instead, he braces his good arm against the wood, his chest expanding with a slow, deep breath that forces the hard muscle of his abdomen to flex beneath the dark ink.

“You’re doing it again, malysh,” he murmurs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that skitters down my spine.

“Doing what?” I demand, forcing my chin up, refusing to let him see how much his bare skin is short-circuiting my brain.

“Looking at me like you’re starving,” he says, a tiny, infuriating glimmer of amusement lighting up his eyes. “If you want to touch me, touch me, Raya. I think you know I won’t bite.”

“I’m checking for signs of infection,” I lie smoothly, though the heat is already beginning to gather beneath the collar of my shirt. “Your skin is flushed. I’m wondering if the fever from the roadside is coming back.”

“The fever is gone,” Yakov replies, his gaze dropping to my mouth and lingering before returning to my eyes, pinning me to the linoleum floor. “But my blood is running hot, yes. That much is accurate. Though I don’t think a doctor would blame the bullet for the temperature in this kitchen.”

I swallow hard, my fingers curling tightly around the roll of medical tape in my palm.

“Shut your mouth, Yakov,” I mutter, turning my back on him to pack the medical supplies back into the cabinet, a trickle of sweat trickling its way down my spine.

He’s quiet for long enough that I glance back. He’s not grinning anymore.

“Raya.” He’s dropped the teasing edge from his voice. “If I’m making you uncomfortable, then tell me, and I’ll stop.”

I turn to look at him; there’s none of the arrogance from a moment ago.

“You’re not,” I say.

“Good. There’s something else I need from you. While we’re being honest.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“You need to call Matvei. Not have Selene passing messages to Simon that go to Matvei like Chinese Whispers. You, directly.” The shift in his tone tells me this isn’t a suggestion, however considerate he was being before it. “I understand why you’ve been hiding behind her. I would too. But your brothers aren’t just going to sit on their hands while their sister is effectively MIA. Selene isn’t going to be the thing that stops them acting. You are. This has gone on too long now; they need to hear your voice”

He’s right, which sucks. What’s worse is that a part of me has been grateful to let Selene carry this for me.

“Fine,” I sigh. “Let’s get this over with. Give me the phone.”

Matvei picks up before the first ring finishes. “Where. Are. You.”

It’s a demand more than a question, each word its own sentence. It’s the way he talks when he’s already decided violence is the answer.

“I’m safe, Matvei—”

“You’re with a Mykros.” He spits the name. “Do you understand what that family did to Selene? They kidnapped you and the twins for fuck’s sake! I don’t care what bullshit story he’s spun you, Raya; he is not safe, and every hour you stay there is an hour I have to worry like hell something’s happened to you.”

“You know, Matvei, I’d completely forgotten about the kidnapping. You’re missing the bit where he’s the only reason I’m alive.”

“He’s the reason you needed rescuing in the first place. His brother, his father, his blood.” Something smashes in the background. “Give me the address. I’ll have you home tonight.”