Midnight Lies (Tasarov Bratva 2)

She laughs and then runs a hand through her hair. Messy blonde curls drape over her shoulder. "You are stronger than I am. I'm exhausted. I could barely open my eyes this morning."

"That storm made for a long night." I squeeze her knee and then slide my hand up her thigh.

Will there ever be a time when I’ve touched this woman enough? When I’m not drawn to her? When my cock doesn’t spring to life the second her scent hits my nostrils?

She gives me a knowing smile. "Yeah. Though we probably could have left when the storm ended at midnight. We didn't need to stay cooped up until three in the morning."

I drag my eyes over her low-cut tank top. "Agree to disagree. I had unfinished business."

A pink flush colors her cheeks, and she bites the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well… I’m exhausted. And I know you have a lot going on right now.”

“No more than usual.” She arches a brow and I shrug. “Fine, maybe a little bit more than usual. But nothing I can’t handle.”

“Is that true?” She twists towards me, but can’t seem to bring her eyes to mine. “You can handle this? Yasha and the police and the Volandris and figuring out who that woman was… It’s a lot. I’m worried.”

“Don’t be.”

She huffs. “It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is.” I grab her shoulders and stretch her tall as I inhale. “Take deep breaths and trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know you do,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. I can see the sincerity there. She does trust me. Finally. “But what if the police won’t be bought? You could get sent to prison. And I have no idea what I’d do without you.”

I dismiss the worry with a wave of my hand. “No matter what, you and Isabella will be taken care of. I have more than enough money. Lifetimes’ worth of money. Stefan will set you both up. And the baby, too. You won’t have to worry about a thing.”

Emery reaches out and grabs my face, her fingers hooking behind my ears. “I’m not talking about money, Adrik. I’m talking about you. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

I lean forward and press my lips to hers, kissing her until her body softens and the tension slips out of her. Then I pull back and look into her shimmering green eyes. “Luckily, you’ll never have to find out. Because I don’t get caught. Ever.”

She gives me a small smile, but just as she opens her mouth—probably to argue—there’s a crash from within the house.

Emery freezes. I instantly stand up and slide between her and whatever danger could lie on the other side of the door.

“Mama!”

Isabella’s voice breaks through the quiet. Emery and I both bolt forward.

“Isabella?” Emery calls out, sounding frantic. “Honey, are you okay?”

We tear down the hallway and into the living room, Emery is just half a step in front of me. Then she slams to a sudden stop, and I barely avoid flattening her.

Emery gasps, looking just past the couch. “What happened?”

I follow her gaze and see Isabella lying flat on the floor. Her limbs are sprawled at odd angles. She’s trying and failing to lift herself up. Her face is pressed awkwardly into the carpet.

I hurry over and grab her, lifting the little girl up gingerly. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she says, her voice wobbly. She sounds scared. There’s a carpet impression on her cheek and a rug burn on her forehead. Otherwise, she seems fine.

I set her in her wheelchair. “Did you fall out of your chair?”

“How?” Emery asks. “You’re strapped in. How did you—”

“I didn’t fall,” she says. “I tripped.”

Emery frowns. We both look at each other, not understanding.

Emery walks around me and kneels down in front of Isabella. “What does that mean, sweetheart? How did you trip?”

Isabella’s face lights up in a cautious smile. She looks like a kid caught with her hand in a candy jar. “I was walking!”

Emery tenses again, and I can see the sadness on her face as she tips her head to the side. She’s trying to find the words to explain to Isabella that she can’t walk. It seems obvious, but I know it isn’t easy for her to tell Isabella she can’t do something. Even if it’s true.

She takes a deep breath, her head tipped to the side. “But… but honey, you can’t—”

“Yes, I can.”

She shakes her head. “No. You can’t. That’s why we have the wheelchair and Travis. It’s why—”

Isabella lifts her arms and places them on Emery’s shoulders. Instinctively, Emery moves to support Isabella in whatever she’s trying to do. But before she can help, Isabella pulls herself up. Her movements are jerky and stilted, but she’s doing it by herself. That much is clear.

Emery gasps and Isabella beams. “See?”

“How?” I ask, voicing what Emery can’t seem to.

Isabella shrugs. “I just wanted to try, so I did. And it worked.”

She says it like it’s simple. Like it isn’t an absolute miracle.

Emery blinks, her mouth hanging open. Then she looks back at me. “It must be the trial. The medication. It’s… oh my God, it’s working.”

Travis nestles himself in between Emery and Isabella, and Isabella reaches down and grabs his fur. Using him as a furry walker, she takes one small step and then another.

“Oh my God.” Emery claps her hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe it.”

On the third step, Isabella wobbles. I lunge forward and snare her around the waist before she can fall.

“You ready to sit again?” I ask.

She nods, and I get her settled back into her chair.

Emery drops back, sitting on her heels, stunned. Then her eyebrows lower. “You should not have tried that by yourself, Isabella.”

“I was fine.”

“Luckily,” Emery snaps. “But you could have been really hurt. You could have hit your head or broken something. Adrik or I need to be with you if you’re going to try that. Do you hear me?”

Isabella lets out an exasperated sigh, but nods. “Yes, Mama.”

“Good,” Emery says sternly. But I can tell she is overjoyed. And she can’t contain it for more than a few seconds before she’s grinning again. “I can’t believe you took a few steps.”

Isabella smiles back and they embrace. I step away, watching the sweet moment unfold from the doorway when my burner rings.

“Hey, Stefan. What’s—”

“Attack,” he says in a clipped voice, interrupting me. “Shooting at the warehouse. Men down. I don’t know anything else.”

I can hear an engine revving on the other end of the phone. Stefan is giving me only the necessary details while he speeds towards the scene.

“I’ll be there,” I snarl.

“I’ll call if anything changes.”

Stefan hangs up and I shove my phone in my pocket.

Emery and Isabella are both staring at me. “What is it?”

I want to tell her, but not with Isabella here. Having her around has reminded me how beautiful the innocence in the world can be. I want to preserve hers as long as I can.

“I have to go,” I say instead. “There’s a problem, and I have to go solve it.”

Her breathing picks up. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” I tell her. “And so will the two of you. I have security on the building.”

“You do? But I thought we were here alone.”