Bratva Beast (Bravikov Bratva #1)

Chapter 3

PRESENT DAY

CYNRIC

The memory fades into oblivion as my usual irritation about life scratches my brain. It’s been too long. Something bad is on the horizon, I can feel it. I should get on the treadmill and run off my angst. I’m annoyed with my father and his unrealistic orders that I leave the penthouse. My hand scrapes across my ultra short hair as I dwell on the pessimistic feelings I’ve had since the accident. Time has taught me that bad things happen to bad people, and I’m good with that. A soft voice on my audio system brings me back to the moment. Isabella. I sweep my head to the monitors around my desk. I catch her front in one camera and her side in the other. She walks to the foyer talking to my housekeeper.

“I should be home around midnight.” She throws up her hand as she slings her backpack on her shoulder and heads out the front door.

It takes me a moment to realize what she said. I don’t think before I plow out of my room and into the foyer as my two sets of doors automatically open as I walk through.

“Mrs. Belova?”

She startles as she looks up. “Yes, Mr. Bravikov?”

“Did she say midnight?”

Her head flips to the door and then back to me. “Yes, sir. She has a shift after classes.”

I growl. “Nothing good happens after dark.” That bad thing I was thinking is roaring now. I pat my workout clothes, realizing I left my cell phone in my room. I cast a glance up at the housekeeper. She doesn’t seem upset about my face anymore. I guess she’s gotten used to working for the devil.

ISABELLA

I crack my neck standing next to Russell, the overly buff male nurse. He’s a man whore. There’s not a woman in this hospital he hasn’t propositioned, and I’m new. He’s hit on me for the last twelve hours.

“Izzy?”

I grit my teeth and glare. I’ve retold him countless times. “Ms. Reeves!”

“Yeah, right. We should get breakfast after your shift ends.”

“No, thanks. I have an early shift tomorrow and need to get home.”

His bottom lip sticks out, and I cringe. Not only is he annoying as hell, he’s one of those puppies that wears his heart on his sleeve. “Go check Mrs. Davis in room twelve.”

His frown deepens as he lumbers off.

“He’s so fricking annoying.” Annette Garcia leans against the wall by the nurses’ station. “I’d like to say you’ll get used to him, or he’ll stop being annoying, but I’d be lying.” She motions for me to follow down the hall. She leads me into the lounge. “So, I drew the short straw.”

My brow furrows. “About?”

“We’re all curious why you got moved in the middle of the term.”

“What’s your thought?”

The corner of her mouth lifts. “I’m guessing you got caught having a relationship with one of the doctors and they moved you instead of dealing with the doctor.”

“Huh. Nope.”

She cocks out her hip and stares. “So, what was it?”

I shrug and inquire with a sarcastic lilt to my voice. “I’m dying to know. What was everyone else’s guess?”

She pours coffee into a cup. “Want one?”

“No.” The loudspeaker in the lounge announces my name, and I smile at Annette. “Send the next guesser by, and we’ll see if they’re any closer to my reason.” I proceed out the door and into the hall, meeting up with the attending, Dr. Firth.

“We’ve got a gunshot wound due in three. I’m told you spent the earlier part of this rotation in Harlem. Did you do any sutures?”

Of course I did. Steel your face, Izzy. “Yes, sir.”

We walk into the triage area as the nurse is dodging the flailing man’s arms up to her face. Her manner pleads with the attending to step in. He shrugs at me. I move to the edge of the bed and pull the restraint from under the railing. I swing the cuff around the man’s arm and pull it tight to the bed.

The nurse smiles. “Thank you.”

By the time the man figures out what’s going on, I have his other arm tied at the rail. “Hey?”

I smile at the man and pat his arm, glancing at the seeping wound on his arm. “How’d you get shot?”

He cocks his head. “You’re a pretty one.” He mumbles in Russian, and I quickly turn to grab a clipboard to evaluate his information. I learned as a child not to react to surprises. “Mister?”

“Just call me Vlad.”

I nod. It’s not like he’d give the hospital his real name, anyway.

“You were explaining your injury.”

He moves his shoulder. “I was minding my business, and a bullet hit me. You guys were the closest hospital, so I walked in.”

The doctor scrutinizes the wound, then flicks his eyes at me. “Cut the clothes and clean around the wound. You will assist the nurse as she debrides the wound?”

“Yes.”

“Well, get to it.” Dr. Firth crosses his arms and watches as the nurse and I put together the supplies. I cut the sleeve farther up the arm.

A few minutes later, Dr. Firth looks over my shoulder. “That’s good. What would you do next?”

“I’d suture with 4-0 vicryl.”

He nods. “Well, get it done. I don’t have all night.”

The nurse sets the instrument tray next to the bed as I step back from washing and gloving my hands. “Thanks.” I take the stool next to the bed and begin my work under the scrutiny of the trauma surgeon overseeing the ER.

“Nicely done, Ms. Reese. Those are outstandingly precise sutures. How’d you learn that?”

“I worked under a plastic surgeon last summer.”

He snickers. “That must have been a nice gig. Where’d you do it, Beverly Hills?”

“Actually, I worked with Dr. Logan in Central America, helping children with deformities due to birth defects or trauma.”

His face whitens. “I’ve heard of Dr. Logan. That’s an excellent opportunity.”

“Yep.” I remove my gloves. He has no idea who I am or what my experience is. An hour later, I grab my stuff from my locker while the male nurse natters at me about grabbing breakfast. I shake my head, opening the door and running smack into a hard, broad chest.

“Izzy.”

My eyes cast up his body. “Wystan? Why are you here?”

“It’s midnight.”

“When did you learn to tell time?”

“Hardy har, har. This wasn’t my idea.” He peels my bag off my shoulder and hikes it onto his. The size of the bag looks like a kid’s backpack resting on his massive shoulder.

The male nurse clears his throat. “Who’s this, Izzy?”

I turn and growl. “Ms. Reeves.”

Wystan swings his head between the two of us. He focuses on the guy. “Leave. Now.”

“Wystan. Leave him alone.”

He pushes the bag farther onto his shoulder. “Let’s get you home.”

“I can get myself home.”

Wystan shakes his head. “Cynric said to pick you up, so here I am.”

“Why does your brother care about how I get home?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” He takes out his phone and reads a text. “Huh.” He turns to the male nurse who’s eavesdropping at the door. “Did you have a shooting victim in the ER tonight?”

I make eye contact with the nurse and shake my head. He opens and closes his mouth like a guppy, then smiling at me as though he’s doing me a favor. “No.”

Shit. Now he thinks I owe him something.

Wystan’s brow crinkles. “You’d tell me if you saw someone tonight, right, Izzy?”

“Yep.” A huge lie. Not on your life. I’d never be stupid enough to interfere in Bratva business, but I won’t help you.

The male nurse has stopped outside the door, leaning against the wall. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Izzy.”

Wystan growls, shifting his weight in front of the man. “No.”

The guy and I ask together, “No, what?”

Wystan smirks at me and then shifts his attention to the man. “No. Look at her again, and I’ll break you.”

“Wystan!” I grit my teeth. “You can’t threaten an employee.”

He looks down at the sniveling man. “Izzy works here. You will call her Ms. Reeves, and you will leave her alone. Or I will break every bone in your body.”

I shake my head, but I’m grateful Russell believes him. He dips his head and leaves the room, skirting the wall and disappearing.

Wystan leads us to the door. “Can we just go? I have other things I could be doing other than taking care of you for my brother.”

“Um.”

“And why the hell do you have to work until midnight?”

“It’s part of my med school requirement.”

“Who do I have to kill to get that changed? I’ve got better things to do.”

“So go do it. I’ve been taking care of myself for years now.”

He raises his voice and mutters in Russian, calling me a spoiled brat as he thrusts my backpack into my front.

I just keep walking, stepping out of the hospital and climbing through an open car door into the back seat. I clutch my backpack on my lap. Maybe Wystan will just be silent. The car door closes, leaving me alone in the backseat. “Whew.”

CYNRIC

The little pixie walks through my front door. It’s just after midnight, and I get up to stretch from my desk. It’s too late for her to be coming home alone. My jaw aches from grinding my teeth, reminding me of the constant slow burn of irritation that bubbles in my core. Everything about this woman grates on me like sandpaper swiping over a gash on my flesh. Wystan texted about an over-interested male nurse who bothered her. The photo of the nurse’s badge on my phone reminds me. I sit down at my computer and type his name into the search engine. He doesn’t have any affiliations, but there’s an old arrest for stalking. I blow out my breath. I need to make sure you understand Isabella is off limits. The debate bounces around my brain whether scaring him is something I want to do myself. My father’s ringtone jingles from my phone, changing the focus in my brain.