Chapter 2

Yaroslav

I watch as the young woman in the hospital bed beside me sleeps. I had my men pull some strings when we arrived to make sure we were in the same hospital room so I could keep an eye on her. She looks peaceful as she sleeps, her dark curls framing her face like a halo, the long thick eyelashes rest gently, and her full lips are parted as she breathes softly. Her smooth, unblemished skin is the color of warm caramel, I assume she’s of mixed heritage and I’m curious to know what it is. Her high cheekbones and delicate, pointed chin give her face the shape of a heart. Her impressive mane of hair dwarfs her otherwise tall, slim frame.

Thankfully, neither of us was injured too badly, she had a small bump to her head from the crash and some minor cuts and scrapes from the blast. I’m a little worse for wear with some burns to my back from debris from the wreckage. My driver Ivan didn’t fare so well, he was killed outright by the bomb.

If it wasn’t for the woman beside me, I’d be dead too.

I owe her a debt and I don’t even know her name.

That’s not something I’m comfortable with. Ivan was making calls to find out who the hell she was, and if it really was an accident her running into our car like that, when the bomb went off.

My second-in-command, Artem, and another of my most trusted men, Vova, enter the room, closely followed by three of my other men.

“Good to see you in one piece, Pakhan,” Artem says.

“If only we could say the same for Ivan,” I reply somberly. “Be sure to send his family the usual condolence package. We need to get to the bottom of who is behind this, an attack like this can’t go unpunished.”

The men all nod in agreement.

“There are police waiting outside that want to speak with you and the girl,” Vova explains.

“I thought as much. Artem, call Chief Johnson and make him aware of the situation and to handle things on his end. We don’t need any eager rookies digging too much into why I was targeted,” I instruct.

“Will do, boss. What about the girl? Do we think she has anything to do with it?” Artem asks, jerking his head over toward her.

“No,” I reply truthfully, “I think it was a case of wrong place wrong time, pure coincidence, if it wasn’t for her crashing into me, I’d have been in that car and lying on the mortuary slab with Ivan. But, even so, I don’t want to leave any avenue unexplored. Find out everything you can about her. Ivan was in the process of doing that when the bomb went off.”

Any further discussion is interrupted by the woman stirring in the bed beside me. Without being told, my men know better than to discuss business further in case she hears anything she shouldn’t. Artem and the other three of my men leave to do as instructed, leaving only Ivan in the room. He discreetly goes to stand near the window, giving us some privacy.

Her big brown eyes flutter open, blinking in confusion as she tries to figure out where she is. The beeping of the heart monitor she’s attached to increases and she becomes distressed, no doubt recalling the events before blacking out. She scrambles to a sitting position, wincing in pain as she does so.

“Lie back down,” I order, unable to help myself from giving commands.

Her gaze darts over toward me as she realizes she’s not alone. “Oh, it’s you,” she says softly.

She doesn’t seem upset to see me, something which I feel strangely grateful for. She merely seems a little confused and scared. The vulnerable young woman in front of me is nothing like the firecracker who argued with me after the crash, despite being the one at fault. Her beauty is even more apparent like this, though she looks younger than I initially guessed. She’s undeniably beautiful, I noticed that the moment I first laid eyes on her. Even in that ridiculous uniform, I couldn’t help but notice her toned and curvaceous figure.

We both look at each other for a moment, uncertain of what to say. I notice with some amusement that she’s actively trying to avoid looking at me, a slight blush creeping up her neck. The doctors had to take off my ruined jacket and shirt to treat my wounds, so I have no top on.

I want to thank her for saving my life, but the words won’t come. I’m not accustomed to being in someone’s debt.

Instead, I ask, “What’s your name?”

She looks momentarily confused as to why I’d ask her, but then she replies. “I’m Kimmy. And you?”

“Yaroslav,” I reply, pleased to finally know her name.

I don’t get the opportunity to speak to her further as at that moment, the doctor enters. She’s a harried-looking woman with big bags under her eyes that suggest this is the end of a long shift for her.

“Good, you’re awake,” she says nodding toward Kimmy before checking her chart.

She bustles around Kimmy checking her pulse and flashing a light in her eyes to check for her pupil’s responsiveness.

“Now, I’m going to ask you to confirm some basic details about yourself for me so I can check for your comprehension and make sure that knock to your head isn’t anything more serious than a mild concussion and whiplash. First of all, please can you confirm your full name?” the doctor asks, checking her clipboard.

“Kimberly Walsh.”

“Age?”

“I’m twenty, I’ll be twenty-one next month,” she replies.

So, I was right in thinking she’s young. Too young for me to be thinking of her the way I have been.

“Occupation?” the doctor asks.

Given her age, I expect her to respond that she’s a student—though she was in a diner uniform, so I assume she also works part-time.

“I work at Dom’s Diner and in the art supply store downtown,” Kimmy replies, shooting me an embarrassed glance.

The doctor nods, seeming pleased with her answers. “Is there anyone you’d like us to call for you? A friend or family member?”

Kimmy shakes her head, “No, there’s no one. It’s fine. Will my insurance cover my treatment?” Kimmy adds before the doctor has the chance to ask any more questions.

She nervously bites her lip anxiously awaiting the reply. It’s obvious that money is a concern for her, given her question and the fact she works two jobs. I wonder if she’s an orphan, it’s surprising to me that there’s no one she wishes to contact after such a frightening experience. Is there no one that cares for her? I can’t help myself from feeling a little bit pleased that she didn’t mention a boyfriend and quickly push the thought aside.

The doctor doesn’t seem surprised by her question about treatment costs, it is a common concern for most people, no doubt. “You’d have to consult with the front desk and your insurance company about that.”

Kimmy nods, crestfallen, her eyes well up with unshed tears and she chokes out a reply. “Okay. Can I leave now?”

The doctor surveys her, a slight furrow of disapproval on her brow. “Well, since you hit your head, I’d ideally like you to stay in overnight for observation. But, if you want to discharge yourself, that’s your call.”

“Yes, I do,” Kimmy says eagerly, already moving to get up.

“The police want to speak with you alone first though, they’re just outside,” the doctor adds.

“I’ll speak with them outside now,” Kimmy replies.

The doctor nods her approval, “Very well. I shall let them know,” she says before leaving.

Kimmy gets out of bed, practically racing to the door. It seems to occur to her that I’m still there and that we didn’t resolve our dispute over the crash, though that’s somewhat redundant given the fact that my car is a pile of smoking metal now. She glances back at me about to speak when two police officers enter the room.

“Miss Walsh. The doctor tells us you’re ready to answer a few questions,” the one says.

“Yes,” she says with a nod.

“Please, follow us. Our colleagues will be in momentarily to speak with you, sir,” the officer says to me as they leave.

I jerk my head toward Vova, silently ordering him to follow and keep an eye on Kimmy. I don’t want her to go before I get a chance to speak to her. He nods and leaves the room. Moments later, two different officers enter my room, Artem and my lawyer are close on their heels.

The officers introduce themselves and ask some basic questions first. I confirm my full name, Yaroslav Olegovich Volkov, that I’m thirty-seven, and I provide them with the address of one of my properties in Atlanta. They of course ask how long I’ve lived in the States, and I tell them almost seven years, and that I moved here for business. When asked where I was going today, I explained I was on my way to a business lunch and the only reason I was out of my vehicle at the time of the explosion was because of an unfortunate collision with Miss Walsh.

“Do you have any enemies or anyone you can think of who would wish to cause you harm?” the detective asks.

“None whatsoever, of course, as a businessman there have been times when there are disgruntled ex-employees, and like any good business we have rivals, but certainly no one who would do something like this,” the lie rolls smoothly off my tongue.

“What about your driver, the man who died in the attack?” they ask suspiciously.

I fix him with a steely glare. “I can think of no reason why anyone should wish to kill Ivan or myself. It’s a miracle no one else got hurt. I do hope that you do everything you can to find whoever did this.”

The detectives continue to pepper me with questions, clearly suspicious of why I was targeted. It’s no secret that they have their suspicions about the legitimacy of my business, and they make it clear that they don’t believe me. Luckily, they don’t need to. It will soon be taken over by more senior officers and they will be told to drop their investigation if they know what’s good for them. I will make sure that whoever is responsible pays for their attempt with blood.

Before long, my lawyer steps in. “Detectives. Mr. Volkov has been more than patient and has answered your questions to the best of his ability. But I must now interject, we’re going around in circles. My client was the victim here and therefore should not be being treated like a suspect or as if he had any involvement. Any further questions you may have can be directed to me at a later date. For now, my client needs to go home and rest.”

Sensing they’d be fighting a losing battle if they press any further, the detectives thank me for my time and exchange business cards with Artem and my lawyer before finally leaving.

Right now though my main concern is whether Kimmy has left yet or not, I need to speak to her.