14 | Steady Hands

AS I TOOK A CAUTIOUS step closer to Alexei he took a swig of whisky from the crystal decanter in his right hand. It was more than half empty.

"Alex?" I said softly, and his head lolled in my direction.

"You came," he breathed heavily.

I shrugged out of my denim jacket and threw it onto the oak table, kneeling in front of Alex to take in his wounds. The vibrant red blood staining his white shirt was horrible to look at; I was desensitised to most people's injuries but I felt a connection to Alexei that I couldn't explain.

"You've drunk a lot," I pointed out, gently trying to remove the decanter from his grip. "I can't medicate you if you're drunk."

"The pain..." His dark eyes flickered closed as his hand tightened around the crystal. "It's for the pain."

"I know," I whispered, "I know. But I can't medicate you if you're drunk. Please Alexei." I'd never called him by his full name before and at that moment his eyes shot open and I lost my breath.

I quickly recovered and managed to prise the decanter from his hand, setting it down beside me. Once that was done, I returned to his wound. It was two gunshots, about ten centimetres apart, both of them thankfully lodged in the safe zone of his right shoulder. No serious damage. That was good. "We need to get you on to the medical table," I told him. Half of the room was a lounge, luxurious by all accounts, and the other half was like a mini surgery.

Alex groaned.

"I know," I crooned, feeling something almost painful tugging in my stomach at the sight of him so hurt. "You've lost a lot of blood." He groaned again. "Come on, on to the table."

"Nyet," he breathed sharply.

(No)

"I don't understand," I admitted with a blush. For some reason it made me feel inadequate that Alex needed me to understand him and I couldn't.

He grabbed my hand then, circling my wrist with his fingers and I gasped. "No," he repeated in English, imploring me with his eyes. "Here."

I supposed he was leaned against something for support—it was as good a place as any. I nodded. "We need to get your, um, shirt off." I couldn't meet his gaze as I said this.

When our eyes finally did lock, Alex's unfocused ones hovered over my blushing cheeks and then rolled back in his head. "Fuck," he slurred.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

With a great amount of effort he shook his head. "Good."

"Oh."

"Not...like this." Alexei offered a wry grin but it quickly fell away as his expression morphed into one of pain. His dark curly hair was matted to his forehead with sweat.

Pushing away my embarrassment, I reached for the buttons of his shirt and began unfastening them as quickly as I could. He'd already lost a lot of blood; it saturated the material between my fingers, staining my skin red. When the last button came undone, I pulled the fabric away from Alexei's torso, exposing his tattooed chest. My eyes got lost for a second in the mass of ink swirling over his skin, intricate designs like scars so dense there was almost no bare space. I couldn't afford to stare too long. I pulled my eyes away and asked Alex, "can you lean forward? I need to get the shirt off."

His charcoal eyes locked on to mine and I saw his jaw tighten in determination. With all his strength he heaved forward so that I could slip the shirt off him. I moved as delicately as I could but I knew I needed to be fast. When finally the sleeves came free of his arms he slouched back with another hiss of pain.

"You have pain medication in that room?" I asked, tilting my head towards the medical table and cupboards. Alexei barely nodded. "I'll be fast," I promised.

It turned out that he really had prepared for the worst with the set-up of a makeshift emergency room; the cupboards were stocked with all sorts of supplies - including medical grade morphine and several other high strength drugs—that were definitely not readily available to the general public. I bundled everything I needed into my arms, put a pair of latex gloves on and knelt back down beside Alex, quickly pulling the cap off a syringe needle. "What...?" Alexei asked wearily, staring at it.

"Anaesthetic," I told him. "Nothing too strong; I don't want to risk the dosage when I don't know your height and weight."

He didn't flinch when the needle entered his arm. Next I doused a swab of cotton wool with antiseptic liquid and began cleaning around the entry sites, mopping up as much blood as I could. "You're lucky," I said, to make conversation out of nerves more than anything, "you got hit in a safe spot."

"Mmm."

"I'm going to leave the bullets in." My voice was shaking. "If I take them out, I might cause localised nerve damage, and—"

"I love it when you talk science to me," Alexei slurred. "B'lyad'!" He winced when the cotton swab brushed over his wounds. "That burns."

(Fuck!)

"It's the antiseptic," I explained and he let out a low growl, chest heaving as he braced himself against the pain. "I'm so sorry." My voice was barely above a trembling whisper; something about his pain caused my own chest to ache in response. I couldn't explain it, and quite frankly it terrified me.

I set the dirty swabs down in a metal tray beside me and examined the wounds more closely. They were still bleeding, but nowhere near as badly as before. "The anaesthetic should be working now," I said soothingly. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been shot twice," Alexei glowered at me, but I could tell from the steadiness of his voice that he was in less pain than before.

"I'm going to stitch you up now." I glanced to his face to gauge his response but he didn't give one. In true Alex style, his mouth remained pressed into a flat line and his brows, though bunched, didn't move. I unpackaged a surgical needle and began threading it. I hadn't done this in a long time, but somehow my hands managed to remain steady. They had been shaking before, but now that I needed them, they didn't move half a millimetre that I didn't want them to. "Are you ready?"

Alexei looked straight at me and nodded. I swallowed, leaning closer to him, and tried to ascertain where it would be best to start. It was hard to think with the darkness of his eyes boring into me; I knew they followed me, every move I made he was watching my face. "It might scratch a little..."

"Grace." I glanced up and instantly regretted it. His thousand-watt smirk was aimed straight at me, making my heart flip. "I've been shot three times, stabbed twice and I've broken six bones. A little needle doesn't scare me."

"Okay," I nodded.

My left hand settled against his pec to steady me, and even through the latex gloves I could feel the hard contours of his chest. Without looking up, I began stitching his torn skin. The first time the needle went in I half expected him to flinch, or react in some way, but he was unmoving. Even his breathing had stilled the moment I put my hands on him.

"You have steady hands," he commented and I felt my face flush.

"They're small," I shrugged. "Makes it easy."

"Tiny," he agreed. I finished the first wound and tied it off, then glanced up to find him frowning at me.

"What?"

"Why did you agree to come?" Alexei asked. "You didn't have to."

I went back to stitching and shrugged. "You were hurt—"

"You didn't know that."

"I could hear it," I told him, "in your voice. I knew."

Alexei kept trying to catch my eye as I stitched him up but I furiously avoided his gaze. "You still didn't have to come," he reminded me.

"So?" I asked defensively.

"So why did you? Weren't you scared?"

"Of what?" Don't look at him.

Alex caught my chin and tilted my head. "Me," he said seriously.

"Well—" I finished off the stitches and had nowhere left to occupy my eyes. I glanced up, blushing. "A little," I said honestly.

His hand fell away and he nodded, frowning slightly. "I thought so."

"I thought you might—might be getting rid of me," I said.

"Hmm."

Unfastening a pack of bandages, I took a deep breath before mumbling, "but you're not going to, right?" I glanced up quickly and found Alex staring at me with something very serious and dark behind his eyes. The intensity of them made me drop the bandages clumsily, so I picked them back up and pretended I couldn't hear my heart pounding.

"You are still worried that I'm going to dispose of you?" His thumb grazed my cheekbone as he went to tilt my head up again. I noticed his hands smelt of tobacco and metal, a bitter yet not unpleasant mixture. I nodded and he frowned. "I've told you why I want you here, Grace," he said calmly. "There are no tricks involved, no lies."

"Okay," I said shakily, though I still wasn't sure. "Could you, um—could you sit up? I need to put a bandage on..."

Alex shifted forward suddenly, the glistening skin of his toned torso pulled taut over his muscles. He was now very, very close to me, his face only an inch away. "Is this alright?" he asked, light dancing behind his eyes.

He was teasing me.

"Uh, yeah. This is fine," I lied. What I meant was you're too close. I had to lean down in order to fix the bandage, moving my face even closer to his. I could feel his cheek half an inch away from mine, I was so very aware of his chin near my neck, his lips—breathe. But then his breath washed over my bare skin and I couldn't help it—I shivered.

"Grace," he said huskily, now even closer. I could feel wisps of his hair tickling my face as I stared down at my hands. I couldn't move—not even if I'd wanted to. "I will never touch you—" his lips grazed my throat as he spoke in a gravelly whisper, "—never hurt you—" his fingers traced up my arm slowly, "—unless you give me reason." Then, his fingers circled around my bicep and gripped it, hard. It should have scared me, the toughness of his touch, the danger that it implied. But all I could think about were his lips, his mouth so close to my skin, his bare chest beneath my hands. "And if—" he drawled slowly, quietly, fiercely, "—if you should give me a reason—" his hand fell away from my arm but skimmed up my back until it circled the back of my neck, drawing me closer, so that he could whisper very quietly in my ear, "—I will destroy you."

The moment Alexei let go of me I drew back with a gasp, fear filling my eyes. The coldness of his voice washed over me until even the blood in my veins felt like ice. "I—I think I should go," I stammered.

He caught my wrist as I stumbled but I jerked it away. "Grace," he said calmly, the ice now gone from his voice. "I want you to take this job."

"After that—?" I scoffed with a shake of my head.

"Did I scare you?" he asked.

"What do you think?" I folded my arms and waited by the door through which I had come. When Alexei made no effort to move, I continued, "will you please just let me go home."

Alex glanced down to his wound and finished fastening the bandage himself. Then he got up and faced me from across the room. "Good," he said brightly. "If you're scared then you know I'm serious, yes?"

"I. Want. To. Leave," I ground out.

"And if you're scared now, you won't give me any reason to scare you again, yes?"

"Let me go!"

"Answer the question, Grace."

"Yes, Alexei, you're right," I growled, "I would never have given you any reason to destroy me. There was no need—"

"Grace," he interrupted.

"What?!"

"Work for me." He crossed the room in a second and I lost my train of thought.

"You're crazy," I scoffed. "You can't possibly think—"

"—I think," he cut me off, "that you're exhausted. I think you're under paid. And I think that when you just did this—" he gestured to his now-bandaged injuries, "—you forgot who I am and who you think you're supposed to be, you forgot about unpaid bills and how guilty you feel for leaving your dad. You forgot all of that shit, and then you were just Grace. I think you were happy. Do you feel like that at the hospital?"

"Of course—"

"Do you feel like this?" He moved his hands to cup my face, then, burying his fingers in my hair. I stared back at him wordlessly as his heavy breath fell between us. "Grace," he whispered, quieter now, "do you feel like this?"

"I—no," I admitted, looking away from his eyes and swallowing back the lump in my throat. "I don't."

He stayed still for a moment, still breathing heavily. Then, running his hands down through my hair, he pulled away. One of the overhead lights caught him in its beam and I saw just how much sweat had trickled down his tattooed torso, half of it turning pink with blood.

"Do you still want to go home?" Alex asked, marching over to the other side of the room towards the chest of drawers. He pulled a black t-shirt out and slipped it over his body. For a moment I worried that the stitches wouldn't hold when he lifted his arms up, but they seemed to bear the strain.

I let out a relieved breath.

"Well?" He prompted again.

"Um—yeah. Yeah, I do," I nodded.

Alex pulled a set of car keys out of his pocket and I saw the flashy Lamborghini logo glittering on a gold keychain. "Let's go," he said as the wall slid open behind me to permit us through.

I walked ahead of Alex, climbing back up the hidden, pitch black staircase as I heard him punching something into the security panel beneath me. I pushed the trap door open without hesitation then hoisted myself up into the tiny room above.

"Hang on," Alex called as he reached his arms through the hole in the floor and with one bunch of his muscles he too had hoisted himself through. He kicked the large tile back in place and swung open the door into the warehouse.

"So you build boats," I said a little sarcastically, eyeing the giant ship that had been abandoned in the middle of the room.

Alex didn't smile. Instead, he muttered over his shoulder, "something like that." Never mind the fact that a ship yard couldn't have afforded him half a Lamborghini. Deep down I was desperate to know more about Alexei and what he did, but I was also terrified of what the real answer may be.

We stepped out into the dim light of the day. The sky was packed with steel grey clouds and a light drizzle was misting through the air. From beneath the capsized boat in the middle of the yard, the two guard dogs came pelting towards Alex with their tails wagging. It was a million miles away from the greeting I'd received when I first arrived. However, the second their sharp eyes locked on to me their excited barks became vicious growls. They skunk into a predatory crouch, while Alex shot me a side long glance to gauge my reaction. I was sure he could detect the anxiety behind my eyes, because before they even reached us he barked out, "Ryadom!" Immediately, the dogs stopped their snarling and instead stood alert by Alexei's legs. "Sidet," he snapped and they sat immediately.

(Heel!) (Sit.)

I took a few pointed steps away from their sharp, glistening teeth.

"This is Misha," Alex pointed to the dog on his left that was nearest to me, "and Fedor." The dogs' tongues lolled out and their heads tilted up towards their master affectionately when they heard their names. "Pass me your hand."

Suddenly panic rose in my chest. "What?"

"Your hand," he repeated, reaching for me. I took another step away and shook my head. Alexei rolled his eyes. "If you don't let them smell you, they'll attack you. Do you want that?" he asked irritably.

"N—no."

I held out my left hand and Alex grabbed it. I was grateful he didn't comment on the fact that it was shaking. As he moved my hand towards the dogs, I couldn't help but think about how hot his skin was against my own, distracting me from the danger of this moment. Misha was the first to sniff my hand with her cold, wet nose, and then, more hesitantly, Fedor joined in, though his watchful eyes still seemed wary of me. "Horosho," Alexei said pointedly to the dogs. For a moment longer they pressed their noses into my palm, and then, finally, they lost interest and sat before Alex, tails wagging. He scratched each of their heads affectionately and then pointed to the boat. "Domoy!"

Misha and Fedor scarpered quickly back to their base, trotting off with their tails held high. Finally, Alex turned to me. "They won't give you any trouble if you come back here," he said.

"What did you tell them?" I asked.

"I told them you were good," he explained, "then I told them to go home."

I pursed my lips. "I see." Of course, I had no intention of admitting that the dogs still terrified me—I wasn't an animal person to begin with, but after my first encounter I knew I would find it even harder to accept them.

We set off walking again and I followed Alex, half of me expecting that he would drive me home. Half of me hoping, actually, not that I'd admit that either. Instead, however, we made our way over to my battered car. Alex leaned against it and watched me curiously as I dug out my keys. "Um—" I began uncertainly.

"A car will be outside your flat tomorrow at nine a.m., waiting to pick you up," Alexei said briskly. "If you get in, it will bring you here. If you do not get in, you'll never see or hear from me again. The car will wait ten minutes only."

"But—"

"Goodbye, Grace. I hope it isn't for good." Brushing his thumb across my cheekbone one last time, Alex pushed off from my car and strode away.

He didn't look back.

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