Page 10 of Ripping the Odds

Her leg was dying.

And there was nothing any of us could do. I prayed to a God I didn’t believe in and made bargains with the devil on my shoulder. Neither of them listened, or they simply chose to ignore my pleas.

The only saving grace in the entire disaster of a hospital stay was Pru’s nurse, Kayla. She was young, had a heart of solid gold, and a backbone made of steel. Countless times, she went toe-to-toe with the doctor overseeing Pru’s care, fighting for her patient like she was fighting for a member of her own family. At first it was about increasing the dose and frequency of the pain medications, then it was about bending the rules of the intensive care unit to allow more than one person to stay overnight. I was particularly grateful for the latter, considering I had zero intentions of leaving. Rules be damned. Mostly though, I watched the way she interacted with Pru. There was a softness to her voice when she spoke and a genuine smile on her face while she performed her duties.

“It’s your body, Pru,” she’d said gruffly one day after yet another specialist left our heads swirling. “Don’t let them take away your rights. Ask the questions. Demand the answers so you can make an informed decision.”

We did exactly that when the physician’s assistant––or PA––to the surgeon came in to brief us on the plan for the day, which consisted of the same tests they’d performed the day before. When Pru asked why she needed them again, the response was, “Because we’re trying to save your leg.” That was completely different from the surgeon the day prior who said, “We’re going to save your leg.” Our frustrations at the situation were mounting. Honestly, if I thought I’d be the one to lose my temper first, I would’ve lost that bet.

“Enough already,” Daria exploded. “Make a fucking decision. Stop giving her hope one day then ripping it away the next.”

The PA stood with her arms at her sides, not the slightest flicker of emotion crossed her face. We’d dealt with her on one other occasion, so I’d already determined she was a stone-cold bitch. Her next words proved it. “I can have you removed from the premises if you continue to be hysterical.”

Pru’s sister was across the room before the other woman finished her sentence. Kas followed, ready to intervene if necessary. On instinct, I shifted to the end of the hospital bed to block potential danger.

“Do it, lady.” Daria’s voice brimmed with lethal intent. “I’d love to see if your balls are big enough to try.”

Pru snorted behind me. Little by little, her laughter grew until tears streamed down her face. Daria joined her, tossing her head back with a roar. Kas looked at me, I looked at him, and we both shrugged. Finally, we glared at the PA until she took the hint, fleeing from the room without so much as a goodbye or a fuck you.

“God, I love you, little sister.” Pru wiped the wetness from her cheeks.

“I’ll remind you of that the next time you call me annoying.”

The decision had been made to do a partial amputation of Pru’s right leg. Surgery was scheduled for eight the next morning. It was almost midnight, and I was wide awake. I’d convinced Daria to let Kas take her to a nearby hotel so she could sleep in an actual bed instead of a hard-as-fuck recliner. Tomorrow would be hell on all of us.

“Do you hate me?” I whispered into the nearly pitch-black hospital room. The words settled like a lead ball in my gut. How could she not? I hated myself.

“Why would I hate you, Zak?” Pru spoke just as quietly.

“It’s my fault. All of it.” Swallowing thickly, I kept going before she could stop me. “The kidnapping. Your injuries. Every damn thing that happened to you is because of me.”

“And here I thought you were a smart man.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“You don’t know everything, Prudence.”

“Then tell me.”

Three words, innocently spoken, held the power to destroy me. She deserved to know. She deserved the truth, no matter the cost to me personally. So I gave it to her, without pretext, without holding back.

“I’m the head of a Russian Bratva family.”

I waited for the disgust, the anger, the shock, but none came. Instead, she rolled onto her side facing me. There was just enough light coming from the hallway to illuminate her beautiful face.

She smiled, her lips not quite meeting her eyes. “I know, Zak. I’ve always known.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I’m your employee." She closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “It’s none of my business.”

“Every piece of me is your business, Prudence.”

“Because I’m your personal assistant?”

“Because you own me. Heart and soul.”