Painted Scars (Perfectly Imperfect, #1)(46)

I look down at my left hand where a big chunk of glass is half-buried in my palm, blood pooling around it. It hurts like hell.

Footsteps are coming from the alley, fast, so I take a deep breath and wait to see who it’ll be.

Ivan enters my line of sight, grabs my hand, and takes me running down the street. I throw a look over my shoulder and see the car. The driver’s door is wide open and an unmoving figure lays on the ground. Sirens blare somewhere in the distance, but the sound is nearing.

My steps falter, but Ivan keeps dragging me down the street and then around the corner toward the parking lot where he parked our car.

He opens the door and is ushering me inside when he sees my hand and hisses.

“Nina Petrova! Dear God, why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t seem like a priority back there,” I say and raise my hand. “Do you think that doctor who patched up Kostya would do the same for me?”

Ivan raises his head to stare at me with wide eyes, then shakes his head and murmurs something in Russian. “We’re going to a hospital. If we don’t, Pakhan will not be pleased.”

“I guess we shouldn’t rattle his cage. Your pakhan has been a bit cranky lately. Let’s go then.”

Ivan snorts and helps me inside the car, and we leave.




“There has been a shooting, Roman.”

I stare at Dimitri and swear my heart stops beating when the call from earlier flashes through my mind. No. I grab for his throat and bring my face into his.

“Where is my wife?” I sneer through clenched teeth, trying my best to keep myself from breaking his neck.



“We don’t know. Ivan called to say that someone started shooting when they were in the store, and that he is getting her out. That was fifteen minutes ago. I can’t reach him; he hasn’t been answering his phone since.”

“The others?”

“There’s only Ivan. I instructed two of the security team to go with them, but Nina Petrova said she doesn’t want them with her.”

I grind my teeth and squeeze Dimitri’s neck until he starts turning red in the face.

“If there is a single strand of her hair harmed, there will be a lot of dead people,” I bite out.

“Starting with my head of security, who sent my wife out with only one man as her security detail.

You got that, Dimitri?”

“Yes, Pakhan.”

“Good. Now, get me a fucking car.”




Three butterfly bandages, a tetanus shot, and a bottle of antibiotics. That’s what I got. Not even stitches. The nurse said I was lucky, and should take more care with washing the glasses next time.

I look up, trying to locate Ivan. Hopefully, he’ll be here soon so we can get back home already.

There is a bang, the door opens, and raised voices come from the direction of the entry hall. I wonder if they are bringing someone seriously injured because the shouting is particularly loud. And then, I hear Roman’s voice roaring.

“Where is my wife?”

Crap. I was hoping we will get back to the house before he found out what happened.

“What’s happening out there?” The nurse, who has been collecting her supplies, murmurs and

looks toward the sound of the voices.

“Aah, that would be my husband.” I offer her an innocent smile, jump down from the gurney, and run from the room.

When I reach the reception area, I see Roman towering over a bald middle-aged attendant who is trying to type something on the keyboard. His hands are shaking so badly, he can’t manage to hit the right buttons. The only other person in a ten-foot radius is Dimitri. A couple of other people present are standing next to the wall, keeping a safe distance. Ivan enters from the other hallway only to stop in his tracks upon seeing Roman in a rage.

“Roman?” I say.

His head snaps in my direction and he inhales a big breath while watching me approach. Slowly his gaze travels from my head, down my body, to the tips of my toes peeking out of my heels, and then up again. Only then does he exhale.

He grabs me around the waist and crushes my body to his. “You are never again leaving the house without me,” he whispers in my ear. “Never.”

I want to tell him what nonsense that is, but then change my mind. His body is strangely tense next to mine, and I notice that his hand on my waist is trembling slightly. He is really mad.

“Okay, baby. Sure. Let’s go home, yeah?”

Roman just nods, passes his right crutch to Dimitri, takes my hand, and starts walking toward the exit. I take a look at our joined hands, but quickly look up and focus on the car parked some distance away. My eyes fill with happy tears as I adjust my pace to match Roman’s.





Chapter 15


“Where is Leonid?” I ask Roman during breakfast. “I haven’t seen him for two weeks, and last evening, I saw the guys taking out his things.”

“He’s gone.” He reaches with his hand and takes his orange juice.

“Gone, like he doesn’t live here anymore?”

“You could say so.”

“Roman?”

“Yes, malysh?” He looks at me and stuffs the fork piled with scrambled eggs in his mouth.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”