Chapter 35: Beautiful Scar: Chapter 35

“You know, I expected to hate this city,” Evan says as he walks beside me. He’s got this obnoxious swagger to his gait that annoys the hell out of me. “But it’s actually not so bad.”

“I’m so glad you approve of my city.”

“It’s not Philly, but Baltimore’s got charm.”

I give him a withering look. “Coming from you, that’s such a fucking compliment.”

He laughs, ignoring the scowl I keep pinned on him, and keeps on strutting along.

Dasha’s brother annoys the hell out of me. We’re two very different people. I’m quiet and brooding while he’s outgoing and charming. Or at least he thinks he’s charming. I find him annoying for the most part.

But he’s been trying to get along with me ever since that dinner two weeks ago.

Since Dasha asked me to do the same, I haven’t killed him.

Yet. There’s still time.

I give him the tour of the McGrath neighborhood. We’re doing it on foot because it gives him a better feel for the place. I stay to more crowded blocks away from the center of their power, but we stray closer than we should. I’ll hand it to him, Evan doesn’t seem bothered at all.

Meanwhile, Alexan’s shadowing us, along with several of his trusted men.

“We’ve come up with a plan,” I tell him as we slow our pace and pause at a street crossing. It’s a nice day, and families are out at a nearby park playground. “Seamus isn’t stupid. He knows he can’t show his face right now. But we’re sure he’s still in the city, only in hiding.”

“The McGraths are still selling your drugs,” Evan says, squinting at me.

“We recovered most of our product, but yes, they’re still selling some.” That’s a sticking point for Arsen. It’s one thing if Seamus is going off books and fighting a war his brother doesn’t want. But clearly, Liam McGrath is blessing this if the foot soldiers are still passing off our goods.

The war’s simmering right now. There have been targeted beatings, a couple of gunfights, but few actual bodies to this point. That won’t last much longer, however.

When I kill Seamus, all hell will break loose.

We can defeat the Irish. There’s no doubt in my mind. But now with Evan and his men, the message to all the other families and organizations in the area will be clear.

Now is the time of Armenian and Russian dominance.

I fill him in on the high-level concept. It’s something I cooked up with Sona over a few long nights. I can tell Evan doesn’t like it, though.

“Is this necessary?” he asks softly, his face going serious. That’s rare for him. “I don’t like involving her.”

“She will be safe. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Still, I don’t know. It’s a risk if something goes wrong.”

Fucking prick. I try not to let my frustration show. “Trust me on this. We’ve been going over it a dozen different times, and the plan will work. We just have to follow it.”

Evan nods and shades his eyes. “I’ll do whatever you need. You know that. I want to punish that piece of fucking shit mudak Seamus as much as you do.”

I give him a vicious smile. “I doubt that, but maybe close. At least we have one thing in common.”

He smirks right back, and in that moment, I almost like him.

Almost. Not really.

“We’re seeding the rumors already.” We start walking again. “All I need is for you to play along.”

“I’ll have my men drunkenly spill their guts to a few ladies over the next couple of weeks.”

I nod my approval. “Very smart.” My phone starts ringing. I frown at the screen and answer it. “Yes, Grigor?” He’s on Dasha duty, and he knows damn well not to call unless there’s an emergency.

“Sir, I don’t mean to bother you⁠—”

“Tell me what’s going on.”

“Dasha, sir, she was hanging a painting in your suite, and she fell.”

My heart starts to hammer. Blood rushes into my ears. “Fell? Is she okay?”

“Off a stepladder, sir, and I think⁠—”

I don’t hear what he says next. I hang up and instantly call Alexan. “Pick me up now. Get me home as fast as you can. It’s Dasha.” I speak to him in Armenian, my mind racing.

Evan’s watching closely. “I heard her name,” he says, eyes narrowed. “Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” I start pacing, my patience completely evaporated. A thousand things rush through my mind. “She might be hurt.”

“Fuck,” Evan says. Alexan’s car peels around the corner and slams to a halt beside the curb. “Go, you go, my men will get me.”

I throw myself into the back seat. “Drive,” I shout, and Alexan slams his foot down on the gas.

How the hell did this happen? I knew Dasha wanted to brighten up my side of the suite, but still. Fucking Grigor should have known better than to let her climb a stepladder. She’s not that pregnant, but still.

What if the baby’s hurt?

My fucking god.

If my wife and my child are injured⁠—

I don’t know what I’ll do.

I’m sweating and impatient. Alexan drives like a maniac, breaking just about every law imaginable in his haste. I want to scream and kill something. I keep seeing Dasha in my head, crashing to the floor, hitting her skull or breaking her arm, lying on the ground in a pool of blood⁠—

Stop torturing yourself. You don’t know what happened.

The car finally comes to a screeching halt out front of the house. I throw myself out, run up the steps, and slam open the door.

“Dasha!” I shout, hurrying up the stairs.

Grigor’s there waiting for me. “Sir, hold on a second, you should⁠—”

“Get the fuck out of the way, you incompetent old fool,” I snarl, shoving past him. “Dasha! Where are you? Dasha!” I run down the hall and burst into my suite. Grigor’s following, trying to get me to slow down, but my wife and my child are in danger, and I will not, I will not, fucking fail them.

Not like I failed before.

“Tigran?” Dasha’s sitting on the couch. She’s got an ice pack on her knee and a home decorating magazine open in her lap. “What’s going on?”

I run to her and drop to a knee. I take her hands in mine and pull her close, smelling her, kissing her, making sure there are no visible wounds. “Baby, it’s okay, I’m here now,” I say, hugging her tightly.

“Urk,” she says. “Tigran.”

“I’ve got you.” I close my eyes. Fuck, if she’s hurt⁠—

“Tigran,” she gasps, and I realize I’m being a little overzealous and release my grip. She sucks in air and gives me a completely confused stare. “What the heck is happening?”

“This might be my fault,” Grigor says from the doorway.

I slowly turn to him. “You called. You said she fell.”

“I did,” Dasha says, clearly trying not to laugh. “But I just hit my knee. I told him to call.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I tried to tell you it wasn’t a big deal. She just wanted to ask you to get more Advil on your way home and maybe a new ice pack as well.”

I stare at them. My guard looks like he’s worried I might shoot him. Dasha’s got both hands over her mouth, shoulders shaking with mirth.

I collapse onto the couch as relief floods me.

“You’re okay,” I say, pulling her hand into mine. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

“I’m fine, Tigran, you crazy person.” She’s beaming as she looks over at Grigor. “I think we need a moment alone, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Happily,” the guard grunts and shuts the door behind him.

I pull my wife into my arms. My heart’s racing like crazy. Fuck, I thought she was hurt. I thought the baby might be hurt. I thought everything had gone wrong and I’d fucked up again.

“I’m safe, Tigran,” she whispers, nuzzling close. “I’m safe because of you.”

“It’s not enough.”

“Baby—”

“I’m going to fix everything. Baby-proof every inch of this place. Make it all padded and foam-covered so nobody can ever hurt themselves in here again.”

“Tigran,” she says gently, leaning back. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me.” I touch her face. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Because I fell off a stepladder?”

“Don’t mock me, pisik.”

She leans in and kisses me gently. “Never. You know that. But please, be realistic.”

“You and the baby are everything to me now.”

“And you’re everything to me.” She kisses me lightly. “But you can’t take the danger away from my life. Not entirely. Remember, everything’s sweeter with contrast?”

“I was talking about making sex feel better by spanking your ass,” I snarl as she strokes my hair.

“But it applies to life too. If I hide away in my rooms forever, what kind of existence is that? Just bland and nothing. Safe but the same every day. I need contrasts, Tigran. A little bit of risk.”

“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, but she kisses me firmly.

“Yes, baby, a little bit. A normal amount. Less than most people, but not zero. You can’t keep me sheltered.”

I hug her tight. I know she’s right. Within reason, at least. I can do my best to make sure the big things don’t touch her. Men like Seamus. My future enemies.

But everything else? Bumps and bruises? Little falls from stepladders and twisted knees?

I can’t take that away from her.

That’s living.

“I’m not Natalia,” she whispers, stroking my cheek. “And I never will be.”

Finally, I break. I feel it crack deep inside my soul. The steel I’ve sheltered myself with. The obsession over her safety. The constant nagging fear that I’ll fail her.

“I love you,” I say and pull her into my lap. I kiss her hard. “I love you, and I will protect you and take care of you with everything I have.”

“I know, baby,” she says, blinking rapidly, a big dumb smile on her face. “And I love you too.”

The kiss lasts a long time. It’s laced with the promise of a future. A child together, maybe two, maybe more. Nights in bed exploring our sins. Days growing side by side.

Contrasts too, plenty of contrasts, some of them good and some of the bad, but all of them ours.

“You really rushed here because Grigor told you I fell?” She’s being playful now. Her teasing smile brightens the darkness.

“I pictured the worst.”

“You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

“I prefer protective.”

“I’m sure you do.” She wiggles her hips, grinding down into my lap. Her teasing smile turns downright mischievous. “Since you’re here, and since you love me, maybe you could stay for a while?”

I grip her ass with both hands. “Maybe I could.”

“I need you to make me feel all better. Since I hurt myself and all.”

“That, my love—” I kiss her again, long and deep. “That I can do.”