“I won’t fuck up, Hamilton, so you won’t get the chance to dance in my blood. Your daughter doesn’t need you plotting my murder right now, so I suggest you focus on the fact there’s a psychopath intent on revenge against both of us for some reason. While we’re keeping her safe, we’ll find the sooksin, and you can dance in his blood afterward.”
His top lip curled at the thought as he nodded at me. “Right.”
Lifting my chin at him, I stood up from my seat. “I need to go and see Nell and my sons.”
I’d just reached the door when Hunter called out to me. “Fedorov, make sure she smiles, or I won’t dance in your blood, I’ll bathe in it.”
I didn’t turn when I answered. Instead, I kept my back to them as I opened the door and took the first step out of it.
“Good luck with that.”
Chapter Eleven
Nell
I hated leaving the hospital every day. It felt like I was leaving a vital part of me behind that I couldn’t survive without.
And today felt worse than others. When I’d gone in, it was to find out there’d been a breach on the pediatric floor under where the babies were, and that they’d locked down two floors of the hospital, including theirs.
After an hour of frantically ensuring that the boys were safe, I’d allowed myself to be put into the vehicle waiting to bring me home. The only reason I’d given in was because I’d been assured that two of Taras’ men were allowed to stay with the boys, and I knew they’d keep them safe.
Now I was home, and even though I was tired and still in pain—thanks to my stupid decision to attempt to drive before I was supposed to—I was also full of energy to get things ready for them to come home. I needed to be prepared for them and it would help me pass the time.
Right now, two of Taras’ men were outside the house. One had done a search of it when we’d gotten here, so I went through to the boys' room and looked around at what needed to be done, knowing I was safe.
I had two bags of premature baby clothes that I’d bought myself and been given as presents, so I picked them up and took them through to the laundry room.
While they were in the machine, I went back through to their room and swapped out the new baby diapers' stacks for the premature ones. The difference in the size was crazy, and I felt panicked at the weight of the responsibility of having them home alone with me.
To take my mind off it, I continued working through what needed to be done. I unboxed the bottles that’d arrived to get them ready to be sterilized, and then I made myself comfortable as I pumped milk to take to them tomorrow.
I still had a massive box of stuff for preemies that’d arrived the night before that needed to be put away, but as I’d been pumping I’d realized I had a problem. If something happened, how was I going to protect them? I knew my father and Taras had discussed it earlier, but I couldn’t count on someone always being with me.
I needed to be able to defend them by myself.
I needed a gun.
First thing in the morning, I’d speak to Hunter or Rider, and get them to teach me how to shoot. The Club had a room with guns in it, so I could learn there, and then get my own later on.
One hour later…
I was just moving the first load of laundry over to the dryer when someone started pounding on the door, scaring the hell out of me.
Dropping it in, I turned the dial and hit the switch, and then walked as quickly as I could with the pain toward the door, ready to come back and put the next load of laundry in after I’d dealt with whoever was at the door.
It could only really be the guys who worked for Taras, so maybe one of them needed the bathroom?
Fortunately, the door on the house I was renting had a peephole that was at a sensible height, so I could look out of it without needing to get onto my tiptoes—something the healing wound on my abdomen was immensely grateful for, too.
The face on the other side hadn’t been who I’d expected to see, though, and the hammering that sounded right near my head made a squeak come out of me.
Reaching over, I opened the door, and took a step back when Taras took over, stepping through quickly and looking at me wildly.
“Are you okay? What took you so long?”
“I was doing laundry,” I explained, the sentence coming out like a question as I pointed behind me. “And it hurts if I walk too quickly still.”