Time Stood Still (Volkov Bratva #3.5)(23)

For a while, they just laid like that, at least until Mishca shifted, turning onto his side as he wrapped an arm around her waist and drew her into his side. He kept his hand on her stomach, slowing drifting the pads of his fingers from the edge of her bra to her navel and back up again.

Reaching for his hand, she held it still, keeping it pressed flat against her stomach. “Should I be worried?”

He didn’t hesitate in answering. “No.”

She didn’t make him repeat his answer, nor promise that his remark was true, knowing that if it was critical, he would tell her.

…But also because she wasn’t sure what his promises were worth anymore.

***

“If random men are going to be stopping us on the street, I think I should carry a gun,” Lauren said the next morning over coffee.

Mishca didn’t respond immediately, trying to decide how best to do it. She was angry with him, that much she could best to do it. She was angry with him, that much he could tell since the moment Gavin approached them last night, though at that time she had seemed more resigned towards the situation than upset. Now, she was either trying to get a rise out of him, was serious, or maybe both, but there was a clear spark in her eyes that promised she was not in a joking mood.

“Klaus took me to a shooting range a few weeks ago, brush up on my skills.”

—And probably did it to piss Mishca off, but he didn’t bother mentioning that part.—

“And Celt—you remember Celt?—he has this pearl-handled .22 that he’s willing to hand over for a price. What do you think?”

She sat her mug on the table, blinking over at him, smiling innocently, as though she didn’t know—or did and just didn’t care—that he didn’t like the idea of her spending time with them.

Mishca was dangerously close to shattering the mug in his own hand. “Do you make it a habit to spend time with mercenaries?”

“Only when I’m not with the Russian Bratva. At least I’m not worried about the two of them killing me.”

His cup hit the table so hard, even she gave a little jump. “I thought we were past this.”

“I thought we were past you lying to me. Yet here we are, you withholding information because you think it’s what’s best.”

He shook his head. “You were not in any danger—”

“But how do you know? What more has to happen?”

“Nothing is going to happen to you!” For a second, he regretted raising his voice, but Lauren didn’t shrink away from him, an eerie-like calmness seemed to take her over.

“And what if something happens to you? Mish, you put your life in your men’s hands, but you don’t trust me to have your back. Unless Luka is at your back, I worry. The men that are at your back now, I don’t trust them not to shoot you themselves let alone put you in a situation where someone else will.”

His brow furrowed as he studied her, hearing the genuine fear there. “That’s why you’ve been wanting Klaus to agree to work for me by shadowing you…so Luka can stay with me.”

“They’re the only two I trust to keep you alive, and before you say it, if Klaus really wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now.”

“Come to me.”

She didn’t hesitate. Despite his frustration, it drained out of him as he wrapped his arms around her. “You worry too much.”

“I learned to the hard way.”

He couldn’t deny that. She pulled back, just enough so that she was looking down at him.

“You have to stop trying to protect me, Mish, because last night when it was just us, who was going to protect you? I’ve been kidnapped, Mish and it’s not fun. I want to be able to protect myself in the rare chance that you can’t.”

Though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right about him constantly trying to keep her safe by deciding what was best, even if his choices weren’t always the best thing. Conceding, he pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

“I’ll set it up.” Another kiss. “And you’re only using it when absolutely necessary. Would you like it in pink?”

Laughing earnestly at the blatant sarcasm in his voice, Lauren said, “I doubt the person on the other end will care what color the gun is when I’m aiming it at them.”

***

Their last night in Sardinia was slowly coming to an end. Spending another day exploring, Lauren had moved past the anger she’d felt at Mishca that morning, thinking that after everything she had said to him, she had made her point.

She was currently laying on the bed outside, watching as Mishca swam laps in the infinity pool. He moved fluently through the water. Having been in there for the last half hour, she wondered what had been on his mind after he’d taken a mysterious phone call right before.

By the time he swam over to the edge, hefting himself out as he grabbed the towel that she had placed there for him and wrapping it around his waist, his chest was rising and falling rapidly as he joined her on the bed, kissing her hip as he made himself more comfortable, horizontal to her.

“Something on your mind, Mish?”

He was quiet for so long that she really began to worry, trying to read his expression as she sat up, reaching for him.

“Things are going to get ugly very soon,” he said, though it didn’t really sound like he was talking to her, more like speaking his thoughts aloud.