Page 42 of Love Me (Touch of Death 3)
I’m confused and lost. Sasha drops the cloth and takes my hand, pulling me from the vanity until my feet touch the ground. I’m led to the shower on unsteady legs. He’s methodical as he carefully washes my hair, combing it through. I look down and see tiny bits of glass and debris swirling around in the dirty pink water before disappearing down the drain. The cleaner I get, the clearer my thoughts become.
“Gabi?” I ask, my words muted even to my own ears.
His lips press in a flat line. “I don’t know. There were two explosions. One at the front door and one at the back.” It’s like he’s speaking underwater. “I came looking for you straight away. If she was in her office, she’ll be fine.”
She’s not, though. I can feel it. This was Enrique. Why just blow up our front door? It makes no sense.
“I have to find her.”
He helps me out of the shower before wrapping a towel around me. The pain that was muted beneath adrenaline before now creeps over me, growing in intensity with each passing second. I clutch my ribs, struggling to get a full breath. Sasha pushes me down on the bed and drops to a crouch in front of me.
“You’re going to stay here. I’m going to look for your sister and check on things.”
I nod, in too much pain to argue. He slips out the door, and there’s a double click as he locks it behind him.
Sasha’s gone for what feels like hours, but in reality, it is probably only fifteen minutes. I fall back against his pillows, inhaling the scent of him, hoping it will help me. It doesn’t. Every breath is agony.
When Sasha finally returns, he has my brown leather weekend bag in hand. He wordlessly starts removing clothes and putting them on the bed. Then he takes out a little glass bottle, syringe, and needle.
“Where’s Gabi?” I ask.
He says nothing, just continues drawing liquid into the syringe. He walks over to me, the syringe propped between his teeth. Removing his belt, he ties it around the top of my arm tightly. Then he slides the needle into the crease of my elbow.
“Sasha?”
“Your sister is gone.” He pulls the needle out and releases the belt.
“What?” Panic rises. “Where is she?”
“They threw grenades at the doors as a distraction. Two men got in and took her while everyone was in a panic. Shot Lorenzo to get to her. He’s alive.”
I drag a hand through my soaking wet hair, and even that hurts. My panic seems to slowly ebb away beneath a cloud of fog that wraps itself around my brain. Thoughts become jumbled, and my head swims.
“What was that?” I point at the syringe, wondering why I didn’t ask that before.
“Morphine. You have broken ribs, perhaps internal damage. The doctor is on his way.”
“No. I have to go get Gabi.” My words slur slightly, and my head feels heavy. So heavy.
“Shhh.” He sits on the edge of the bed, fingers trailing over my cheek. “Just sleep a while.” And I do, dragged into a dark abyss against my will.
When I wake, it’s dark, and I don’t know where I am. I sit up in bed, flinching at the pain that lances through my torso. When I switch on the bedside lamp, I squint against the soft light. Glancing down, I see one of Sasha’s over-sized T-shirts covering my body. My memory is foggy, but I don’t remember getting changed. Did he dress me?
His shirt falls to my knees when I stand. Beyond the bedroom door, all the lights are on in the house. I stumble in a haze through my family villa. The absence of people is almost as startling as the floor to ceiling wooden boarding that has been erected in the foyer, assumedly to keep the building secure against the gaping hole that was blown into the front. I finally find Sasha and Lorenzo in the kitchen. Glancing through to the dining room, I see more lights on and at least eight of Lorenzo’s men gathered, working through a stash of weapons that are dumped on the polished mahogany table.
Sasha’s gaze meets mine, tracking me as I make my way into the room. Lorenzo pushes to his feet, rounding the breakfast bar and storming towards me before he tugs me into a bear hug.
He pulls away when I wince. “Sorry, Miss Adelina. I am happy you are okay.”
“Thanks. Any news on Gabi?”
Sasha nods, his expression stern. “Bianchi texted you. He has her.”
He lifts my phone, showing me the picture on the screen. My sister, her mascara streaked down her face, her dress torn. Bound to that same chair in the very basement where he made me do such vile things in front of her to save her life.
