Obsidian Music (Lion Security Book 3) (12 page)

Daniil leaned down and pressed a kiss to my temple. “I need to speak with my son. Stay with Roman and Zane while I do.”

I sighed and stayed close to Roman and Zane, as he said. The three of us waited for Grigori to pass in his stalk before we darted behind him to chairs against the wall in the middle of the room, facing outward, giving us a fine view of everyone. The ten cops added their numbers to the other five, standing around the square room, taking us all in, looking dazed and frightened.

Their faces became even more comical when Daniil stopped right in front of his son, halting Grigori’s stalk, standing toe-to-toe with him. The cops’ gazes darted back and forth, obviously seeing the uncanny resemblance. They actually placed their hands on their guns.

Jesus. That was so not what we needed right now.

Grigori wouldn’t look up at his father, even as Daniil started talking to him. I couldn’t hear his words, but I could hear the deep, soothing tone he was using. I really wanted to hear what he was saying, especially because, after a few minutes, Grigori’s shoulders lowered a fraction. That would be useful information to have if he ever got this way again when his father wasn’t around. His father kept talking to him, even as his eyes darted around the room, lifting an arm and snapping his fingers at one of his bodyguards, motioning for him to come over. The bodyguard seriously looked like that was the last place he wanted to be, but he stood and walked over, Daniil only breaking his hushed words with his son to order the guy to give him his shirt.

The shirt came off quicker than I have seen anyone undress before. Luckily, he had a white undershirt on underneath, even if it was a little sweat soaked. After the bodyguard had left them, Daniil started speaking to his son again, grabbing his hand, and making him take the shirt. I was kind of surprised he didn’t actually put it on him since he had fingered it like he was going to, rolling it up and even stretching the neck, but he didn’t.

Sharply, Grigori’s chest expanded, and he nodded, putting the shirt on. His father placed his arm around his shoulders and guided him our way. I tensed. I didn’t want him over here right now. I glanced around and saw there were only a few remaining seats in the place and only two next to each other directly beside Roman.

Fuck.

Roman didn’t look bothered with him coming over, but his face was so damn carefully blank I knew it was an act. He stood from his chair and moved down, allowing for Daniil to sit directly next to me and taking the position of comfort on Grigori’s other side.

Daniil held my hand softly, his thumb brushing over the back of my hand while he continued speaking reassuring words to his oldest son. The cops had taken their hands off their guns, seeing that Grigori’s clone was actually calming him and not making the situation worse. My heart rate was going crazy from the drugs, and I started tapping my toe and fidgeting as silence descended on our group.

I asked Zane, “You’re sure the drugs aren’t harmful to the babies?”

He nodded efficiently. “Yes. They took care to make sure those weren’t.”

Daniil paused in his talk to glance in my direction. “I’ve confirmed with the doctor too. Our babies are fine.”

I blinked. “When did you have time to do that?”

He smirked a little. “I have my ways.”

Yes. Yes, he did.

For the next hour, people in our group kept popping out of their seats to wander around, the juice in their systems not letting them relax, only to sit back down and start fidgeting like I was. The cops’ eyes were still wary, watching our group that looked like a macabre act on crack. They didn’t stop anyone’s trekking, though. They just stood there as if they could actually keep this group contained. I stifled a giggle at that thought and jumped out my seat for a little energy release of my own.

Two hours later, Dr. Benedict entered the room, staring down at a chart. She wore scrubs and didn’t look at all tired even though the color of her clothes drained her naturally pale skin even more. The room stilled, and she flipped a sheet and kept reading, asking into the quiet, “Is there a…Grigori Kozar here?”

Grigori was already on his feet, halfway across the room before she even finished speaking. She looked up from her board, her gaze going wide at the filled room, but her eyes were instantly trapped on the man about to run her down.

Her trained gaze ran over him, and she asked hurriedly, “Are you injured?” She actually scowled, turning to glance at the cops in the room as if they had done something wrong before turning back at Grigori. “You should have checked in if you’re injured.”

Grigori shook his head, his hair flying out around his head. “No, I’m not hurt. I’m Grigori Kozar.”

Her gaze widened a little, and I could have sworn a smile tipped her lips before she stated, “Come with me, please.” She turned and opened a door on the wall next to the wide entrance of the room.

They stepped inside, and I asked, “She’s got Grigori listed as a contact?”

Zane answered softly, “Yes. And me. But I think his was just the name the EMT’s had to give when bringing her in. I’m sure he rode with her in the ambulance.”

I snorted. Yeah. He probably shot the driver so he could be the one pushing the gas pedal to get her here as fast as possible.

Zane stated, “Dr. Benedict can be hard to read, but I think Ember’s fine. She owns half this place so I would imagine the doctor would be a little more upset if Ember died on her table.”

My head snapped to him. “What? She owns the hospital?”

Zane shrugged. “The name’s Donovan Hospital. The Mayor owns the other half.”

My mouth snapped shut, and I glanced at Daniil. He didn’t look at all surprised, and I knew he had heard Zane. I would love to see the goddamn report he had on her. I knew Cole and Brent had left everything to her when they passed, but I guess it hadn’t occurred to me what ‘everything’ was exactly. Well, at least since she owned the place, she could get away without filing a report for coming in with gunshot wounds. I was betting the file was already ash.

Minutes later, the door opened, and the doctor exited. “As soon as she’s awake, you can see her.”

Grigori followed her out, nodding, his face carefully blank. He watched her, and pivoted, slipping into the shadows when the doctor started herding the cops together, chewing them out, Grigori apparently tattling, and confirming Benedict’s assumptions that the cops had not, in fact, asked Grigori if he were injured. And while this chew down occurred, Grigori went to an elevator just outside the entrance of the waiting room. I stared at him in silence, speculating what the hell he was doing as he pressed the “Up” button. No one said a word as he disappeared into the elevator after it arrived, the doors closing. I blinked, watching the numbers climb until it stopped at the twelfth floor.

Just as Benedict finished her harping.

Zane snickered into the silence, his gravelly chuckle filling the tense quiet.

I glanced at him, along with everyone else, and he waved his hand. “Sorry. Just remembered a joke.”

Right.

And we waited. Again. The only break in the jumpy quiet was when Zane’s cell phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket, placing it at his ear without looking at the readout, and before he could say anything, I heard Stash yelling over the line. I started to snicker, close enough to hear most of his rant. Zane tried to speak, but Stash kept screaming. Apparently, he had gone to the house and found all the bodies but no one else there. He wasn’t pleased, to say the least. But his reasoning wasn’t because of the carnage or even being worried about his friends missing whereabouts. He was upset because no one had cleaned up the ‘damn mess’ before going out. And not telling him where the new fun was to be had.

There was a pause in Stash’s tirade—probably taking a breath—and Zane stated quickly, “We’re at Donovan Hospital where Ember was taken.” He hung up on Stash without another word.

I started snorting harder, falling back against my chair at the absurdity of my evening so far. The sun surely had to come up soon because this hellish day had to end sometime.

A half hour after Benedict had spoken with Grigori, a nurse came into the room—now empty of browbeaten cops—saying loudly when he saw it was full, his eyes only slightly widened, “Grigori Kozar?”

Zane cleared his throat. “He stepped out.”

The nurse looked perplexed for a moment, and then asked, “Who else is here for Ember Lerrus?”

The room raised their hands.

The nurse’s mouth dropped, and he stated quickly, “She’s awake now. I can allow four of you at a time in her room. Decide amongst yourselves who’s going first.” He studied us, rubbernecking, waiting in the silence that extended.

Zane stood, and I darted up as fast as I could with my pregnant belly, wanting to thank her as soon as I could—and see with my own eyes that she was all right. Daniil and Roman also stood. Well, that was easy. No arguments needed.

The nurse motioned for us to follow him, and we did, waiting in front of the elevator. When we entered, he hit the button for the twelfth floor, and there was a pause as the doors shut before we started chuckling and shaking our heads. Grigori was already up there somewhere. No clue how he knew unless he had peeked at the chart Dr. Benedict had held, but he was already there with Ember, no doubt.

The nurse looked nonplussed as we tried to contain ourselves, but it was late, and we were all starting to come down from our high and shocked systems. A little laughter wasn’t a bad thing right now. Zane even joined in as the door dinged open to a busy nurse’s station, but no Grigori in site. How the hell he got past this eagle-eyed station was beyond me because we all got the hairy eyeball. Their hostility only placated when they saw the nurse with us.

The nurse explained Ember’s injuries, which were extensive, but had been taken care of by Dr. Benedict. He motioned down the hallway, stating, “She’s in room 1217.”

We thanked him, and he went back to the nurses’ station, leaning down and started to…what appeared to be…gossip with his co-workers. Probably telling them about the ‘mob’ downstairs. I almost giggled at my own little joke.

I definitely needed some sleep. And therapy.

I watched the numbers pass by until we got to the open door at the end of the hallway with the numbered plate of 1217. But we stopped when we heard Grigori quietly ordering from inside the room, “Open your damn mouth!”

“No,” Ember’s replied, her voice scratchy and hoarse, but very much defiant.

“You sound like shit! And I know your throat hurts. The ice will help,” he argued, sounding just as determined as her.

“No. I don’t want to eat anything.”

Grigori growled low. “Kitten, I’m so fucking pissed right now that unless you want me to force this down your goddamn throat, you had better open it yourself.”

A pause. “Hate you,” she grumbled, but it sounded like she opened her mouth because Grigori murmured his soft approval a moment later.

I hesitated to go inside. Hell, we all hesitated.

But it was quiet for a few moments, and I started to move in, all of us deciding it was the best time, our bodies starting to inch forward until Ember’s voice sounded again and sounding muffled. We halted as one with her saying, “I think,” a pause, “I blew my cover,” another pause, “with your family.”

“Uh-huh,” Grigori murmured quietly, sounding distracted, his own voice stifled. A moment's lull. “You acted like,” another lull, “the trained assassin you are.”

Daniil started to grin.

“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled. “I’m glad you didn’t have to blow your cover too. The agency would have been pissed to know we both screwed up.”

Grigori chuckled softly. “You have met Papa, haven’t you? I’m sure he already knows.”

There was another long break, and she muttered a little breathlessly, “He looks too much like you.”

Daniil’s shoulders started shaking…but they really started bouncing when a tiny feminine moan came out of the otherwise silent room.

Were they serious?

She just got out of surgery!

Zane rolled his eyes, sighing silently before lifting a hand and loudly knocking on the open door. “Visitors!” He paused a good five seconds before entering the room, and I followed with Daniil and Roman behind me.

The room was huge and spacious, a couch and chairs and a flat screen television with a row of windows against the back wall where Ember lay on a hospital bed with a blanket tucked tight around her bitty frame, looking even smaller on the huge bed. Her face was pale but clean of blood. Her hair was wet, looking a few shades darker than normal, a few freckles she had on her nose and under her eyes on her cheeks standing out starkly. She looked all of, oh, maybe fifteen lying there. And she was one of the three most deadly people I knew. One of the others was standing in front of the windows—now clean of blood, hands in his pockets, leaning back, appearing relaxed and cool, just like Ember.

Christ, I couldn’t say it enough. They were fucking good at hiding who they really were.

Grigori had learned from someone. That man being the love of my life.

And the deadliest man I knew.

“How are you?” Zane asked quietly, coming to stand beside the bed, taking her hand that didn’t hold a cup of ice chips with a spoon stuck in it.