23. Katya

“Damn it, Yuri,” I snapped at his unconscious body. “I’m not a doctor. Wake the hell up or I’m taking you to the hospital. I don’t care if you end up in jail, at least you’ll be alive.”

His head had hit the windshield, he had a red sunburst on his temple now.

But he didn’t stir. I checked his pulse again and was relieved to find that it was still steady, even strong, somehow. Yuri was nothing if not resilient. But that only made me feel marginally better. He’d been unconscious for hours, with brief bouts of consciousness to help me move him into my Jeep, then into my bed. I drove him to the lake house and while I settled him down in my bedroom, his shirt rode up and I gasped at the terrible purple-black bruise spreading , now the size of a basketball across his rib cage and chest.

Yuri must have some broken ribs, I half wondered if one of his lungs collapsed, too. I washed away the blood and cleaned up his wounds as best I could. My nursing skills weren’t all that great, but at least he wasn’t bleeding anymore. But he wasn’t even stirring in my bed. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. Reaching for my phone, I decided to call my father.

Yuri said Petya had someone in my father’s Bratva, a mole or something working with Petya, and I considered not calling just in case it put us in more danger. But with Yuri unconscious and dying slowly in my bed, I decided to risk it. Let him be pissed off later, as long as he’s alive to be angry at me.

I’m in love with the big idiot. That was a certainty now. No dissembling, no lying to myself. I was in love with him. I had been since I was a kid, but the obsession and schoolgirl crush had turned into something real. Something stronger. Something I had no doubts about. I could only surrender to it.

And I wasn’t going to let him die. I had to call someone, and Viktor Kolesova would know what to do. As I scrolled through my contacts to find Viktor’s current cell number and dialed, it only rang twice before I heard Yuri’s phone vibrate from under his pile of soiled, bloody clothes.

I couldn’t believe his phone was actually still working. That should be in a commercial: ‘Get mangled in a car crash? — our phone still works!’.

The caller wasn’t a contact, and the number not listed— all perfectly normal for someone as careful as Yuri. “Hello,” I said tentatively after swiping to answer it.

“Where’s Yuri, who is this?”

“Yuri is not at his phone now. Can I take a message?” I said stupidly.

“If you wanted a message, you would have let it go to voicemail. Is this Katya?”

My senses went on alert, I straightened, “Who is this?”

“Maxim, Yuri’s right hand man. Our call broke off in the middle of a conversation. Is everything all right? Is Yuri indisposed with you?” He asked, amusement in his voice.

I took a deep breath. “Yuri was in a car crash; he’s breathing but unconscious in my bed. He won’t let me take him to the hospital, and I was calling my father when I heard your call on his phone. I’d rather leave him out of this for now.”

“Yes, leave Viktor out for now. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“Are you bringing a doctor or a nurse or someone who can help?”

“I’ll do my best to help,” was all he promised before he hung up.

I pressed the phone to my forehead and tried to collect myself. Having an unconscious Yuri in my bed wasn’t all bad. If he didn’t die, he’d be weak as a kitten for at least a week or so, under my care, under my authority.

But someone just tried to kill me, and Yuri saved my life.

I was the cheese for the mousetrap, so he had to save me.

“Why so pale, kiska? I’m not dead yet,” Yuri coughed from my bed.

“Yuri!” I leaned over to give him a big hug, and he winced in pain. “Sorry. I’m so sorry. Are you okay? What can I do for you? Maxim is on his way over right now. Should I call my father, too?”

“No, not Viktor.” He coughed out. “Maxim, good. Good.” Yuri’s words were a soft rasp, and I could hear the concern in them before he slowly lay back down.

“He called you, and I didn’t know what else to do. He said he was coming by to make sure you were okay.”

“Don’t sound so worried, Kat. Maxim is good, I trust him with my life. And yours,” he added, looking at the ceiling again as he lay down.

I felt tears spring to my eyes, I wiped them away, a weakness, “Yuri, I thought you might die, that I would never see you again.”

He turned his head to gaze at me, “Not today, but one day, maybe. People like me don’t stick around people like you for very long.”

I strained to listen to his breathing. It was deep and steady.

I looked down at him and my anger washed away, instead I felt tender protectiveness. As terrible as he could be, bringing me to tears with his cold-hearted cruelty in one second, and now with tender protectiveness at his weakened, sleeping form the next. I tried to forget how he could do this to me, make my emotions swing from one extreme to the next and just watched him peacefully sleep.

His mouth was relaxed, slightly parted, and his eyes shut, the lashes were long and as black as ink. A lock of his hair swung down over his forehead in a disheveled way he would never tolerate under normal circumstances. I tried to let it be, but couldn’t, knowing how much one hair out of place would anger him, so I swept the wayward lock gently back.

Yuri’s breathing shallowed, and his slight grip on sleep was gone, his eyes flickered open, drowsy with exhaustion.

“Kat,” His voice was low and raw.

“Sorry. Is there anything you need? Water?”

“Just you,” he rasped, catching my free hand and pulling me closer, his lips pressed against my fingers, so I didn’t want to pull back from him. “Here, lie with me. Talk with me.”

My breath stopped, my pulse echoed in my head and throbbed in my belly. “You… you should sleep, rest,” I said, trying to laugh it off, failing. “You’re delirious, shouldn’t tell me anything you’ll regret later …”

“Lie down with me, warm me.”

My stomach tightened with desire yearning to do exactly as he asked, “I can’t,” I whispered.

He held my hand tighter, and began to reel me towards him, towards the bed.

“Stop, you’ll hurt yourself, your ribs—” I tried to pull away, but he was determined despite the pain, I would have to throw him off me, and I really didn’t want to.

“Cracked, not broken. I know the difference. Here, come, lie,” he insisted.

I climbed onto the bed rather than risk injuring him by struggling. “Only for a moment,” I warned.

Yuri acquiesced, holding my hand in a loose handcuff, as I lowered myself to face him, immediately regretting this decision. It was more intimate than sex, this lying with my body so close to his as I stared into his drowsy gray eyes, a tenderness he never allowed showed in them, washing over me.

“I was afraid for you,” I said faintly.

Yuri touched my face with a single fingertip, tracing the edge of my cheek.

“What do you remember? What was it like?” I whispered.

His fingertip followed the slope of my nose down to my upper lip. “I saw it headed for you and jammed on the gas pedal, then … the world exploded. Metal crunching, twisting, … glass flying… the horizon tumbling over and over… pain…” I took his hand and pressed it against my cheek as he talked in a detached voice.

His voice began to fade as sleep crept up on him, “My life didn’t flash before my eyes, like they say. It was you who flashed before my eyes. My last thought was wanting you, needing you.”

Before I had time to process this sweet revelation, Maxim was knocking on the door.

I ran to answer it before he knocked it down and Maxim pushed passed me with another man, who he had by the wrist. They went to my room, where Yuri was passed out and as I explained what happened the man maxim brought with him examined Yuri. He was a doctor, thankfully, though I didn’t want to ask whether he was an MD or Veterinarian, afraid of the answer.

“He said his ribs were cracked, but not broken …” I offered when the Doctor saw the spreading blackish-purple bruise on Yuri’s chest.

“Did he say anything about the lights being too bright?” The Doctor asked, not looking at me.

“No, but he kept his eyes closed most of the time.”

“I’d be surprised if he didn’t have at least a concussion …” the Doctor muttered.

“Should we wake him?” Maxim asked.

“Yes, but once I’m done examining him physically. Then I’ll give him a mental exam and see where we’re at there,” he said rather confidently, putting both maxim and me at ease. It was nice to have someone who knew what he was doing in charge.

I waited outside while he examined Yuri for another fifteen minutes then rose to my feet when he exited, “I’ll call in prescriptions to the pharmacy, and here’s a shopping list of things needed. By the time you get these, the pharmacist should be done.”

Maxim was on his phone, speaking in Russian, but held his hand out for me, with cash and walked me out the door, driving me over to the pharmacy but never getting off the phone. He absent-mindedly followed me around as I gathered the things on the list, and I was able to sneak about three different pregnancy tests in with all the supplies needed for Yuri.

I couldn’t wonder about my nausea any longer, I had to find out once and for all and then decide what to do.