Read Online Russian Mobster's Stolen Wife by Bella Rose - Free Book Online
Authors: Bella Rose
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stumble beside him.
What?
She whimpered, nearly dragging him down with the death grip she took on his hand as she tried to keep running. Her green eyes were huge in her face and a red stain began to spread over her shoulder.
Scooping her into his arms, Grigori continued to run.
He’d never felt like this before. Her blood was soaking his shirt. The warm, sticky wetness caused the fabric to cling to his chest. He ducked around the corner of an old brick building. There were screams everywhere as students and faculty ran for cover. No doubt the DA had hoped to disguise this shooting as just another act of homeland terrorism on a college campus.
Keeping himself disguised in a knot of men and women hiding around the corner from the quad, Grigori used the civilians as cover while he tried to decide what to do. He had to get medical attention for Flynn. She had passed out in his arms, her head lying limply against his chest.
“Oh my God!” someone cried out. “That girl is shot!”
Someone else had their phone out and was trying to text and talk at the same time. “I already called 911. Their circuits are slammed.”
“How many shots did you hear?” another student said.
Her companion whimpered. “I don’t know. Like a dozen?”
Perfect. At least Grigori didn’t have to worry about this incident being somehow linked to him. The stories were already going to be so varied and fantastic that law enforcement would never be able to figure out what had really happened.
“Can I help?” A young man standing close by reached toward Flynn.
Grigori curled his lip. Nobody was going to touch her if he had anything to say about it.
“I’m a medical student,” the kid explained.
Grigori changed his mind. That made some sense. “The bullet went through, but she’s bleeding.”
“Lay her down.” The kid went into doctor mode. He stuffed his backpack beneath Flynn’s head and began probing her shoulder.
When she made a tiny noise of pain, Grigori nearly decked the guy. He had to clench his fist to keep control. That was when Igor showed up with Ivan on his heels.
“Boss?” Igor said in Russian. “They were aiming for her. Flynn was the target.”
Grigori had wondered about that. “Her father was acting strange. Perhaps he knew this was coming.”
“But why?” Igor demanded.
“I think it has something to do with the money.” Grigori didn’t have all the pieces yet, but he would. “Nobody tries to murder my wife and gets away with it.”
“It looks like Anson took down their shooter.”
“Where is Anson?” Grigori almost hated to ask.
Igor sighed. “We got separated, but I saw him run like hell in the other direction. He’ll meet us at the backup point, I’m sure.”
“I hope so,” Grigori murmured.
Meanwhile, the med student had pulled out what looked like clean socks. He was using a water bottle to wet a sock in order to cleanse the wound. Then it appeared as though he was going to use the rest of his socks to dress it.
“It’s not the neatest bandage job,” the student explained. “But it’ll keep her from bleeding to death. The wound is clean. It doesn’t look as if it nicked anything inside her shoulder, but she should definitely see a doctor to determine if there was damage to the bones or tendons.”
“Thank you.” Grigori pulled out his wallet and gave the kid a hundred dollar bill. “Keep your mouth shut if anyone asks.”
The med student’s eyes went wide at the sight of the money. “No problem, dude.”
“When will she wake up?” Igor asked the kid, remembering to speak English.
The student frowned. “It’s hard to say. If she passed out from lack of blood, she may need a transfusion, although I doubt it. When her body is ready, she’ll wake up. Unless she got hit on the head.”
“Not that I know of,” Grigori said, feeling relieved. “She was awake one second, and then out the next.”
“So probably the low blood pressure.” The student nodded.
What?
She whimpered, nearly dragging him down with the death grip she took on his hand as she tried to keep running. Her green eyes were huge in her face and a red stain began to spread over her shoulder.
Scooping her into his arms, Grigori continued to run.
He’d never felt like this before. Her blood was soaking his shirt. The warm, sticky wetness caused the fabric to cling to his chest. He ducked around the corner of an old brick building. There were screams everywhere as students and faculty ran for cover. No doubt the DA had hoped to disguise this shooting as just another act of homeland terrorism on a college campus.
Keeping himself disguised in a knot of men and women hiding around the corner from the quad, Grigori used the civilians as cover while he tried to decide what to do. He had to get medical attention for Flynn. She had passed out in his arms, her head lying limply against his chest.
“Oh my God!” someone cried out. “That girl is shot!”
Someone else had their phone out and was trying to text and talk at the same time. “I already called 911. Their circuits are slammed.”
“How many shots did you hear?” another student said.
Her companion whimpered. “I don’t know. Like a dozen?”
Perfect. At least Grigori didn’t have to worry about this incident being somehow linked to him. The stories were already going to be so varied and fantastic that law enforcement would never be able to figure out what had really happened.
“Can I help?” A young man standing close by reached toward Flynn.
Grigori curled his lip. Nobody was going to touch her if he had anything to say about it.
“I’m a medical student,” the kid explained.
Grigori changed his mind. That made some sense. “The bullet went through, but she’s bleeding.”
“Lay her down.” The kid went into doctor mode. He stuffed his backpack beneath Flynn’s head and began probing her shoulder.
When she made a tiny noise of pain, Grigori nearly decked the guy. He had to clench his fist to keep control. That was when Igor showed up with Ivan on his heels.
“Boss?” Igor said in Russian. “They were aiming for her. Flynn was the target.”
Grigori had wondered about that. “Her father was acting strange. Perhaps he knew this was coming.”
“But why?” Igor demanded.
“I think it has something to do with the money.” Grigori didn’t have all the pieces yet, but he would. “Nobody tries to murder my wife and gets away with it.”
“It looks like Anson took down their shooter.”
“Where is Anson?” Grigori almost hated to ask.
Igor sighed. “We got separated, but I saw him run like hell in the other direction. He’ll meet us at the backup point, I’m sure.”
“I hope so,” Grigori murmured.
Meanwhile, the med student had pulled out what looked like clean socks. He was using a water bottle to wet a sock in order to cleanse the wound. Then it appeared as though he was going to use the rest of his socks to dress it.
“It’s not the neatest bandage job,” the student explained. “But it’ll keep her from bleeding to death. The wound is clean. It doesn’t look as if it nicked anything inside her shoulder, but she should definitely see a doctor to determine if there was damage to the bones or tendons.”
“Thank you.” Grigori pulled out his wallet and gave the kid a hundred dollar bill. “Keep your mouth shut if anyone asks.”
The med student’s eyes went wide at the sight of the money. “No problem, dude.”
“When will she wake up?” Igor asked the kid, remembering to speak English.
The student frowned. “It’s hard to say. If she passed out from lack of blood, she may need a transfusion, although I doubt it. When her body is ready, she’ll wake up. Unless she got hit on the head.”
“Not that I know of,” Grigori said, feeling relieved. “She was awake one second, and then out the next.”
“So probably the low blood pressure.” The student nodded.
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