Lap of Luxury (Love Don't Cost a Thing)

I wonder if he’s going to ask Damir to spare Navarro’s life, but he doesn’t seem to give a damn about the man lying on the ground. All Mikhail’s attention is focused on his brother. “I didn’t know you were still in so much pain about Nataša. I’m sorry, brata. I should have realized years ago, back when you killed our father. You did that for her as much as you did it for me, didn’t you?”

Damir takes a ragged breath, and nods.

Hope swells in my chest. The two brothers are talking, as I don’t think they have in years.

Damir turns back to Navarro. “She’d be alive if it wasn’t for you, you piece of shit. So would my men. So would your son.”

On the ground, Navarro’s face turns a mottled red with rage. “That little slut didn’t deserve my—”

“Look away!” Damir shouts over him.

It was a warning for the rest of us, but I’m too slow to heed it. A second later he pulls the trigger. Navarro’s head explodes like a pumpkin that’s been smashed with a pickaxe. Blood, shards of bone and brain scatter everywhere in a three-feet radius. Damir’s pants are splattered with gore.

Mikhail and Ciara have turned away, but I’m staring at the spot where a man’s head was a moment ago. Damir glances up at me, and concern flashes through his eyes.

I smile weakly at him. “I’m all right. I’ll take exploding heads over morning sickness.”

Damir grins back, a blood-flecked grin of pure relief. He throws the shotgun aside, and then winces in pain. The shotgun blast must have just caught him as he dove for Ciara.

Behind us, Ciara is retching onto the ground while Mikhail holds her hair. Still bent double, she gasps, “I’ll take the morning sickness.”

She straightens up, and Mikhail puts an arm around her shoulders and draws her away from us. I look from the corpse on the ground, to Mikhail and Ciara’s fearful expressions, and then over at Damir. He’s wiping spattered blood from his face and pulling me toward him with his other hand.

For a while there the four of us were united. The final four, who all stopped the villain so he can never come back to life.

I reach up and swipe my thumb over Damir’s cheekbone. “You missed some.”

I keep gazing at Damir, the smell of blood sharp in my nostrils. He tries to kiss me, but I shake my head and pull away. “Talk to your brother.”

He glances at Mikhail, his eyes wary. “Thank you for keeping her safe.”

Mikhail looks up from examining Ciara’s split and swollen lip. “What the fuck happened to Ciara?”

“That was my fault,” Ciara says quickly. “I tripped over.”

Damir opens his mouth, and then closes it again. Silence stretches as the four of us watch each other carefully, all of us armed except for Ciara.

“I guess we’ll be going,” Mikhail says cautiously. The two brothers stare at each other for a long time. Then Mikhail turns to me, “Do you want to come with us, Bethany?”

Beside Damir, I stay silent. He takes a tighter grip on my hand. “No, she fucking doesn’t want to come with you.”

“I just thought she might have had enough of the blood and violence. Of you.”

Damir shakes his head. “All my life, everyone has looked upon me as you’re doing now. With fear. Hatred. Even when they’ve needed me. But Bethany looks at me like I’ve been sent from heaven to drag her down to hell, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Mikhail takes an angry step forward. “That’s not true. I never looked at you that way. Not until you came here to kill me and Ciara.”

I punch Damir on the arm. “Tell him.”

“Ah!” he mutters, glaring at his wounds and then at me. “Tell him what?”

“Tell him that you don’t hate Ciara. Tell him that it’s over, that you’ve changed your mind about the revenge. That you don’t just want a ceasefire, you want your brother back.”

He glares at me. “What are you talking about?”

“You’ve changed, idiot,” I tell him. “The Damir Ravnikar who stole me in London wouldn’t have shielded Ciara from so much as a mosquito, let alone a bullet.”

“You did. You protected Ciara,” Mikhail says slowly.