Chapter 19
Chapter 19
ALEXIA GREEN.
“I need the code, Christian. Please just give me the code okay?”
His body lies limp against the wall of the cabin.
The hand that’s covering his neck has turned red, his face is already pale matching the color of the atmosphere, the color of my face; matching the staccato beating of my heart.
“Y–You shot me“, he slurs like he can’t believe it.
I can hardly believe it either because this was not what I intended to do.
There are six men, he was one man.
They are going to kill him.
I have a gun, I thought I could…
I killed the men.
I almost killed him.
My attempts to try to open the door dash into the ground like my hopes, I move away from the
door.
I kneel where the six foot man is trying to hang on to dear life and I sob.
“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. You should have never
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come back for me. You should have never taken me as Rhett’s replacement to pay his debt because I’m jinxed. I need the code to the door, Christian. You could die if I don’t look at that wound. I want
to fix you, please let me let me fix my mistake.”
“Cat?”
He hallucinates.
My hand touches his cold cheek.
“Alexia. It’s me, Alexia. Your little nurse? Work with me, Volkov. Just this once please, work with
- me.
It’s hard to even admit it but I miss him calling
me Little Nurse‘.
Right now in this situation, the nickname doesn’t
sound too bad.
“Cat. Catelina’s…birthday.”
“Catelina’s birthday is that the code?”
He nods. He looks like he’s fading into nothingness and I don’t want him to.
He is my kidnapper but the thought of him dying makes me want to chop my heart out with at
serrated blade.
42.99,”
I’m on my feet, my fingers working fast to input.
the code.
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Once I input the code, the door lock clicks and I smile with relief,
“Thank you. Thank you!”
Dragging him into the house is almost as difficult
as dragging him across the snow while he was half alive, half conscious.
Christian mutters a couple of things in his
delirium, by the time I drop him on the couch, I’m already panicking trying to salvage as much equipment as I need to patch him up and look at the wound.
Is the bullet still lodged in his neck? No, he should have been dead if it did.
Did the bullet slightly graze him? Even if it did he’s lost a lot of blood and for a man his size I’m pretty relieved that his strength is keeping him from joining the eternal pits of hell.
The antiseptics I used earlier to stitch him up are finished
The only close antiseptic I could use right now is the bottle of Martell in my hands. The only thing that was in the fridge.
Maybe while I’m at it, I could drink myself out of this disaster that has my hands shaking and my throat quivering with a fresh bout of tears.
“Okay. We are okay. We can do this. We made it here, getting you better is nothing difficult. Oh This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.
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God, please save him. Help me. Help him-.”
My shaky hand lie on his hand as I try to pry it out from where he is applying pressure to his bullet wound.
His veiny hand doesn’t let me touch him.
His body’s reaction is to fight me even when he’s.
half conscious.
I’m about to beg when the sound of static and a groggy voice filters between us.
“Volkov…Vol…kov. Come…in. Volkov, can you read
me?”
Is that the walkie–talkie?
My eyes zero in on the device in Christian’s other
hand.
Oh God. He didn’t leave the talkie after I shot
him?
He didn’t lose it?
I grab the talkie.
“Anyone? Anyone there? Can you hear me? Maximo? Jagger? Jett?”
“Where’s Volkov, Nurse?”
The voice smoothes in like bland music on the
radio.
It doesn’t matter though because whether or not Maximo is disappointed that I’m the one.
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answering and not his boss is the least of my
concerns.
“He umm…he’s occupied. We are in Demetri’s property. Some kind of safe, house in the middle of nowhere. Come get us!”
“Where’s Volkov?”
Dying in front of me.
“Injured.”
“Shot?”
“Yes. Do you not hear me right now? We are in Demetri’s property! His men found us, they can find us again. Retrieve us from here, please.”
“Who shot him?”
“Why does it matter? Your boss is injured!”
“He’s dealt with men far worse than Demetri’s
men. No one could have shot him. Riddle me this, Ms Green why are you the one talking to me and my boss is shot? What really happened?”
“I–I shot him. Accidentally. I was trying to protect him and things got out of hand.”
I wait for the line to go dead or for Maximo to tell me he’ll eliminate me and the child that’s with
him at the moment.
The man chuckles.
A two minute chuckle that would be funny if I
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wasn’t scared.
“Is he dead?”
What?
“No. What sort of question i
“Can you fix him?”
Yes, No. I think.
“I’m trying to.”
“Fix him. Demetri will be there by tomorrow to get you both out.”
“Thank you. Thanks so much for…wait did you say Demetri? Demetri’s men attacked your boss, why would he come to rescue us?”
“You are in his property. There’s no way I can take you out of there without him seeing me. The boss understands this.”
“The boss is shot! God, the boss is…”
“I understand this is hard for you, Ms Green but every minute we waste here is another minute
Volkov nears his death. Get to work.”
“Okay.”
“Do you need me to stay on the line?”
“Yes, Please.”
I need someone to make sure this is real and that
I’m not in some type of crazy dream with men
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with guns and a Russian psycho out to end us.
“Very well.”
Volkov is practically shaking by the time I get his hand away from his neck.
The wound that meets my eyes is gnashing but not a bullet wound.
The bullet grazed him.
“I didn’t shoot his neck.”
“You aimed for his neck? My day keeps getting
better and better.”
Maximo laughs like the whole scene is comedic and not brutally cathartic..
“It’s a graze wound. I can stitch him up.”
“I have to warn you, Nurse. He gets grouchy when he gets hurt.”
“I know. He’s told me. Right now he’s too hurt to get grouchy, I think I can do this.”
I start cleaning around the flesh. The minute the cotton soaked alcohol touches his flesh, Volkov
flinches.
Then a second later, he continues mumbling,
“Catelina. Cat. Cat.”
“Do you wanna hear the child?”
I’ve already started stitching and my hands still.
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“Millie? You are with Millie?”
“I’ve had the child with me since I started this call.”
I thought she was with Jagger.
Maximo is a hell lot worse because he gives off
broody mercenary vibes.
“Where’s um Jagger?”
“Handling business.”
“And Jett?”
“Handling business too.”
What business?
“How’s Millie doing?”
I’ve missed her terribly. We’ve never been away from each other for this long.
“She’s asleep. She senses you are not here because she has been crying.
“Did you feed her? I pumped some milk for her before I left. It’s not enough but it should have gotten her this far.”
“Fed and changed her diaper. The child’s fine.
How’s Volkov?”
Maximo changed her diaper? And fed her?
I have to get to my baby. And fast.
“I’m down to the last stitch.”
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“Good. Keep him alive. See you later.”
“Wait let me say goodbye to my daughter.
Maximo? Maximo?”
The line goes dead.
I huff in annoyance.
With blood stained cotton wools around me, a
half bottle of alcohol near my knees and bandages all over, I contemplate the thoughts of drowning in alcohol or sleeping on the ground and calling it a night but the man on the couch
doesn’t give me a chance.
Volkov starts shaking again, his hands grab the fabric of the couch in his fists almost tearing it
away.
When the back of my palm sweeps his dark hair
from his forehead, feeling his temperature, it’s
almost high enough to burn my skin.
“A fever? You battled your way here, there’s no way a fever is taking you, you hear me? I won’t let
I hate you but I won’t let you die. I won’t let you do this to me.”
you.
I take off his coat, leaving him with his dark shirt. that’s straining to hold his body together.
My hands work on his feet, taking off his army. boots and leaving him with his socks.
I head to the one bedroom in this hell of a place
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to get a few blankets to cover him and when I come back to check up on him not only is the man shaking but he’s sweating so much so that his t–shirt is soaked and drenched in sweat.
“I have no choice“, I whisper to no one.
As fast as I can to get him better, I peel his clothes. away from his body.
Taking off his shirt is the most difficult thing at the moment, lifting his head up is like trying to lift a boulder but I manage it.
I take his pants off too. And his briefs and socks.
I’m not going to lie and say I don’t take a look at his body because I do..
His body is a meshwork of perfection and
imperfections.
Tattoos peak from his ribs stopping near his
chest.
Every time he shakes and inhales, sweat coats his body and his scars become as visible as the lump in my throat.
This man has gone through a lot, hasn’t he?
What’s the meaning of his tattoos? Or the skull tattoo that’s inverted on the back of his palm?
I want to touch him. Why? Because I think I can erase his scars?
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Christian Volkov looks like the type of man who doesn’t need a woman to wipe away his scars.
I’m not the woman to wipe away his scars too because I’m broken and unworthy.
Taking the blankets, I cover him up.
He stirs on the couch, muttering incoherently,
“You promised! No, find your way to me! Cat? Catelina! No! You are not….not following him. Y–You are my constant. The only good thing. Cat? Cat please.”
He calls this ‘Cat‘ person with emotion, my heart tugs at his pain.
Who’s Cat?
Why is she not here?
He loved her. You can feel it in the way he calls her out, the way he says ‘please‘.
He’s never said the word ‘please‘.
Never even thought a man like him could beg.
I sympathize with the man who brought me here to Russia, my hands brush his stubble and his
check.
“You are having a nightmare, Christian. You have to fight the fever.”
“Catelina?” His voice softens.
My heart falls to my stomach at the affection he
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has for this Catelina.
“No. Not Catelina. Little Nurse.”
“Little Nurse?” His voice turns raspy.
“Yes, yes I’m here. It’s me and I’m telling you we are going to make it.”
Come here.”
I shouldn’t move to him.
I should clean up, watch his fever and pray he makes it out alive.
Instead the part of me that feels a tad bit guilty
for his situation wins.
He’s still cold.
He’ll need a warm body to keep him warm.
He’ll need me.
I take off my coat and boots.
I pull the long black shirt above my head, getting
rid of it.
My panties and bra are off of me too and down to
the carpet.
Biting my bottom lip apprehensively, I pull away
the blanket.
I join the naked man on the couch.
I let his hands pull my waist closer to his body.
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Together in a country I don’t want to be in, with a
naked man I loathe, I sleep knowing tomorrow might be worse.
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