BAD APPLE: The Complete Series (Parts 1-5) Page 18

  “What the hell happened?” he asks, growling when Luka runs right into his back, almost tipping them both.

  “We don’t know yet. She went to get coffee and came back scared out of her mind. She had a panic attack and passed out,” Leo answers when all I can do is sneer at the two men.

  “A panic attack? Rini?” Feliks asks uncertainly.

  “Da.”

  “But she’s like Miss Optimism. She never sweats things. Never. Not even when she woke up in the hospital. Remember how she tried to make a joke of it and said at least the scar would give her an air of danger?”

  I remember it well since I wanted to punch a wall at her attempt at humor. Nothing about this situation is fucking amusing, and I’ve made that more than clear any time she tried to make light of it.

  “Shit. You don’t think she’s gonna go nuts from the trauma or anything, do you?” Luka asks, getting a growl from Leo for his stupidity.

  “No. Something must have scared her.”

  My answer is a vicious hiss, met by Feliks’s dark stare and a hardening jaw.

  “You still got Tony and his crew on her?”

  “Da. They are on retainer for the next two years.”

  “Good. I’m calling Dmitri in on this. We may not be one of the bigger families since Papa pulled most of his business into the legit side since I joined, but I’ve still got my own crew. We need to talk. If this shit isn’t taken care of quickly, I’m going to go for it, sanctioned or not. My baby sister shouldn’t have to deal with this shit.”

  I nod once and restrain a grin when I hear Leo growl and take off when the sound of arguing can be heard. I see Feliks sigh and roll his eyes at the sound of Tatiana yelling curses at Luka.

  “How’s my boy?” he asks when silence reigns and Irina is still out for the count.

  “Good. Mama and your own have been teaching him to fish in the little pond on the estate, and Papa put up one of those awful train sets for him. They spend hours in his study setting up the little town they’ve started building.”

  His weary sigh makes me feel like shit for the stupid situation, and I face him with a frown.

  “I’m tired of being at odds with you over Lena’s foolishness, brother. You’re going to have to put a stop to her—”

  “She’s involved with the Romanovs,” he sneers, cutting my words off.

  “Nyet.”

  “Yes. I found her working in one of their titty bars and grabbed her outside of it. She’s not there anymore, thank God, but she’s definitely involved with them in some way.”

  “Why? She knows how—”

  “I’ve been running a cover op, ‘laundering’ money for them for a while in the hopes of finding out how they’re smuggling women into the country for their brothels and sweatshops. I followed her one night and found her there. She refuses to tell me what she’s up to, but I swear to God, Mish. If she’s doing drugs I won’t hesitate to take my kid from her.”

  “She’s not, trust me. She’s one of those new-age vegan types who drink plant smoothies and do yoga. Hell, she doesn’t even try Ri’s baking because of the refined sugars in them. That woman considers carbs her mortal enemy. She wouldn’t be on the pipe. Whatever she’s up to, you’d better stop it, because those Romanovs aren’t pussy cats, Feliks.”

  Dammit! I have enough shit on my plate with Ri. I don’t need my little sister fucking her life up just to have a good time.

  “Oh, no worries there, bro. I know exactly how I’m going to handle that woman of mine, and this time she’ll know who’s running the fucking show,” he grates, his smile deadly. “You got this with Rini?”

  Ah, now I remember why I used to like this prick. He’s a big brother to the core, but he knows she’s mine to care for and won’t just overstep now that I’m hers. He knows I’d die before letting an enemy closer to her, and I appreciate the trust he’s putting in me, though we’re far from best friends at the moment after the shit he’s put me through in the business arena.

  “I got my girl. How’s the cat?” I chuckle, laughing outright at the disgruntled snarl and the way he rubs at his left thigh.

  “That little fucker is begging to be kicked into an alley. He’s pure evil, swear to God. The only reason I haven’t dumped the shit on your doorstep is because I’m sick and tired of my sister’s ass being burger meat.”

  “You and me both. I’ll shove those teeth of his up his kitty ass if he so much as looks her way again. Little shit.”

  “Stop calling Sweetie names.”

  The low groan is like music to my ears, and I whip around to see Irina pushing herself up with a grunt, glaring daggers at us as she blinks back to consciousness. “He’s just misunderstood.”

  My ass, but that’s an argument for another day.

  “What the hell happened?”

  I should be softer right now, but my anger at the situation is mounting again, as is the urge to grab her and run home, locking us up in my tower for the rest of our natural lives, if necessary.

  She winces and sits up fully, swings her legs over the cot, and wobbles to her feet, falling into me when I go to steady her.

  “Someone was watching me.”

  “Babe, Misha’s got Joe out on the street to tail you or the girls.”

  “No! It wasn’t Joe. It was someone else, Feliks. I felt it, like a freaking physical sensation. Whoever the hell it was, they are not having friendly feelings for little ole me, and I want to freaking know why right now.”

  “Angel—”

  “Don’t, Misha. I’ve let you and the overgrown gorillas that are your brothers and my own run the show. I follow orders, I do whatever I’m told, and I don’t complain about the battalion of security reaming my ass every second of the fucking day.”

  “Language, Irina.”

  “Shove it up your ass. I’m not stupid and I sure as hell am not blind. And I have had enough. That stabbing was no junkie mugger, robber, whatever the hell you want to call him, and we all know it so cut the shit. Someone came after me, purposely, and if those eyes watching me are any indication, they are still coming. So tell me what the fuck is going on before I call my papa and go home to him.”

  The words sear my brain and I feel the ice-cold anger I’m holding at bay threaten to break free.

  “You wouldn’t make it a step out the door, Irina. Never fucking threaten me that way again,” I hiss into her ear, ignoring the way she tenses before meeting me head-on.

  I can handle a lot. Hell, I think I’ve been doing admirably so far when all I really want to do is go on a killing spree to get rid of any and all threats. Her threatening to leave me again, though, is the one thing that has the power to unleash my beast, and I am trying real hard not to let her see that side of me.

  That side is guaranteed to scare her to death, and I won’t have it. Unless she pushes me to it. Then Irina can deal with the shit she’s freeing, and she better do it with a fucking smile.

  “Then talk, because I swear to God, I am sick and tired of this. I can’t move without a shadow. I couldn’t even reschedule…” She looks at Feliks guiltily before sighing. “Please, Misha, for God’s sake you know how I feel about you. Please, at least just give me this.”

  Chapter Ten

  Irina

  My chest feels like it’s going to explode and it’s taking all I have not to slap the hell out of my husband and Feliks while they calmly tell me that the people who share my blood are trying to get rid of me for daring to look for my mother.

  The magnitude of it all is like a wave bearing down on me, and I allow myself to sink back to the cot with a swallow as bile hits my throat.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The two share a look I can’t decipher before Misha sits down beside me and strokes a hand down my back, giving me comfort, though right now it’s sure as heck not enough.

  “It would not be good if it were known that a leading family got rid of their own blood, angel,” he murmurs, his accent thickening in a way I usu
ally find sexy.

  It only happens when he’s upset or so aroused he can’t be bothered to temper himself, so I pull back my anger and turn to meet his eyes.

  “I won’t ask any more questions or go looking. All you had to do was tell me. Now, do you guys think you can do something about whoever’s watching me? Because sure as shit, I’m not into putting on shows for the customers unless they pay me, and I think I could do a lot better than a meltdown. Hey, maybe I can get some nipple pasties and make it a real sellout next time,” I joke.

  Misha growls and narrows his eyes at me.

  “This is not funny, Irina. For God’s sake, take this seriously. You passed out you were hyperventilating so badly.”

  “So? Life goes on, and if I’m not laughing I’ll be crying,” I retort, rolling my eyes at the smirk on Feliks’s face.

  “Ever the optimist, huh? Don’t worry, Rini honey, between me and this caged animal here, we’ll eliminate the threat to you and set everything right. You all still coming over to Mama’s for dinner?”

  What a subject change, I think, grinning at Misha’s growl.

  “Nyet, Mama and your own have arranged a family gathering at my parents’ place instead,” Misha says softly, another hidden message being passed between them.

  Whatever it is has Feliks’s eyes closing as he takes a shuddering breath and opens them, the wet shimmer there confusing the hell out of me.

  “Thank you, brother.”

  ***

  The rest of the day is a bust and I drag myself to the car Misha has waiting for me with a groan as he opens the door and slides me in, following with a curt nod to Tony to drive.

  “We need to talk, angel.”

  “No,” I groan, closing my eyes to rub at the ache behind them. “Let’s just go home, eat a pizza, and have sex. I don’t wanna talk anymore.”

  I never thought I would say those vile words. Hell, talking is the only thing I have ever wanted from Misha, and now that the ass has decided to oblige I’m just sick of talking.

  “Irina, you pester me incessantly to share my feelings and my past, and now you wish for only mindless sex? God save me, women make no sense.”

  “Dude, I could have told you that and I am a woman,” I mumble as my head attempts to eject my eyeballs via swelling brain tissue.

  “You’re tired and have a headache, I understand, but what I have to tell you is not just about you, but the entire family.”

  “Fine. At least wait till we get home so I can be elbow deep in a threesome with Ben and Jerry before you go on.”

  “Who is this Ben and Jerry?!”

  I hear Tony laugh and feel a grin tug at my lips before the man explains the orgasmic pleasure that is a gallon of ice cream. Misha grins then, too, and pulls me into his chest, his fingers diving into my messy hair to start massaging my scalp.

  My moan is just this side of sexual as he soothes me and plants kisses at my brow, while I continue pondering the guilt I now feel about keeping Mina’s visit and accusations secret.

  I should have told him. I should tell him now and pray that whatever hold that hag still has on him isn’t as tight or strong as I think it is. But he never told me a thing after I said I love him and that holds me back.

  “No ice cream till you’ve eaten. And no pizza. I had Joe go get something from Anton’s and it should be there when we get home. Then we talk.” He laughs, licking at my pout with a chuckle.

  By the time we reach our building and he carries me into the private elevator, I’ve forgotten all about the gremlins eating my brain tissue and my mind is set on only one thing.

  Sex.

  I need it. Now.

  But the dastardly man is in caregiver mode again, and I find that out when he lays a hard slap on my ass and shoves me towards the stairs.

  “Go shower and take one of your pills. I’ll serve dinner when it gets here.”

  “But—”

  “No buts, angel. Shower. Pill. Dinner. Talk. You can get dick later. If you behave,” he drawls, making my eyes cross with lust.

  God, just the way he talks is enough to make my vagina clench, and that’s without those heated looks he keeps giving me from below his lashes.

  “Irina.”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” I mutter, saluting him with the bird before dragging myself upstairs, mumbling insults at him the whole while.

  I have to admit, as I throw on a pair of old shorts and a baggy, shoulder-baring T-shirt and swallow a pill the doctor prescribed, that I do feel slightly better.

  “No. I told you not to call me again, Mina.”

  I pause on the first step leading downstairs and drop as I hear that name, my insides turning to ice at the softness I hear in his tone.

  “Nyet, Minanka. You know I cannot.”

  Silence.

  “I know that, sweetheart, and I am so sorry. Yes.”

  He sighs and I can almost see him pinching the bridge of his nose the way he always does.

  “I am married. You know I almost lost my wife when she caught you here. Nyet! I said no. Fine. I’ll call you tomorrow. I know, Mina. Yes, I know. Just stay strong for me, sweetheart.”

  The call ends and I stay right where I am, battling not only tears but absolute rage, as well. He’s talking to that woman? He’s actually talking to her after everything we’ve been through, and he thinks it’s okay?

  “Angel! Dinner,” he yells from the kitchen, whistling cheerily as I pull myself together with a force of will and stand, walking woodenly down the steps with my heart torn to shreds.

  I get that this is not cheating in the literal sense, and yeah, I get that I can’t just blow my top about a little innocent conversation between two people who used to share a bond, a child, but I feel betrayed in the worst way.

  Resentment is pretty rife as I stomp into the kitchen and fall into a chair like a lump, hating the sight of my nipples through the threadbare shirt.

  “Ah, your face has some color back, my angel. Here, I made sure Joe got you the chicken ravioli you like so much,” he says too cheerily for my state of mind to deal with in a healthy way.

  The urge to shove my fork up his ass or into his lying mouth is so strong. I stay silent. This is not me. I’m happy and sunny. People shit on me and I keep smiling while offering them a cupcake.

  I don’t get angry or get even. I cry and look for the positives. I’m nice.

  I’m turning into a person I don’t recognize as I sit silently and listen to Misha move around, pouring juice before joining me at the table. I eat on autopilot as I think, and think some more, my grunts and shrugs as Misha tries to initiate conversation my only outward sign of life.

  I can’t do this, I realize, my heart hurting so bad it’s hard to swallow. Love is not supposed to be a painful stab of hatred, or even this simmering rage that’s trying to break free.

  You don’t shit on what you love, hurt it, or in any way make it feel badly. You’re supposed to nurture it, lovingly coax it to blossom…

  “Why?” I finally rasp, pushing my half-eaten plate away and looking up into bright blue eyes that make my heart weep.

  Misha pauses, his fork halfway to his mouth as his brows lower. He looks so confused. I have to throttle back the screech building inside me but I do.

  I won’t yell. I won’t throw insults or curses at him. I won’t slap him the way I want to.

  I want to be me again, so that’s what I will be, even if it burns when the inevitable happens and I start crying.

  “Why what, angel? Look, I don’t want to have sex yet, because I know that once I touch you we will be in bed all night. We need to talk before I lose the courage to tell you what I need to,” he says gently, his eyes drenched in guilt.

  God, I can’t even…

  “She came to see me, you know,” I whisper, my huff of mocking laughter intensifying his confusion.

  “Irina, I have no idea what’s gotten into you, but I don’t understand any of it,” he says tiredly, sitting back to run a hand through
his Mohawk.

  The golden strands stick out every which way and I resist a smile at the boyishly adorable picture he makes, furious at myself for noticing at all. Yesterday it would have driven me crazy with lust and I’d have launched myself at him to mess that hair up more.

  Now, he’s lucky I’m not ripping it all out of his head in bloody chunks.

  Calm, Ri. You’re nice, remember?

  “You wouldn’t, Misha,” I laugh. “Because apparently you’re so freaking cold and clueless, it’s a miracle you even know how to talk to me at all. I mean, at first I thought we’d struggle a bit, and maybe after a few months you’d realize that we’re like, meant to be or something, and at least give me a little bit of you. Then I thought, well okay, maybe he’s not emotionally available, but I can teach him to open up to me. Not that it felt great thinking that, because I want you to love me without being shown how to,” I mutter, shaking my head mirthlessly.

  “Irina—”

  “And then I realized, I fucking finally understood—”

  “Language, Irina!” he yells, his blue eyes going hard.

  Yesterday I’d have winced a little and apologized. Tonight, I really don’t give a damn.

  “You’re not emotionally available. And not because you’re traumatized by your past, not because you’re hurt. Oh no, I get to be the one idiot who goes and falls for the guy who’s still hung up on a woman who delights in his pain.” I laugh, burying my face in my hands.

  “Angel.”

  “Stop calling me that. Just stop. You know what gets me the most in this messed-up situation, Misha? She doesn’t love you. Want to know how I know that?” I ask, flinching when he comes out of his chair and glares at me, breathing heavily.

  Don’t do it. Stop.

  But I can’t. He’s turned me into a raging firestorm of spite, and no matter what I want right now, I can feel it bubbling forth. I hate it, take no joy in this, but the very least I can do for him before saving myself is save him too.

  He needs to know so that he can let her go and walk away.

  “I know because she slunk her anorexic ass up here and ran her mouth off at me. She told me things—things that made me cry for you, things that made me want to rip her tongue out,” I say, my tears slipping freely as I rise to my feet and breathe past the pain.