Page 34 of Savage Little Lies

I swallow hard as I hold my phone in a death grip, my hand trembling next to my ear. I don’t know if I believe him. Dmitri and his men may uncover the identity of the shooter, and I’ll learn the truth then.

“Sorry,” I say.

“Get yourself together, Cara,” he scolds me before hanging up the phone.

Silence fills my dark apartment as I stand in the living room feeling numb and confused.

I saved Dmitri Ivanov.

And I would do it again, no matter what it costs me.

13

Dmitri

My life is a fucking mess.

Two good men are dead.

Someone tried to put a bullet in my head.

And I’m losing control where Cara is concerned.

I was willing to do just about anything to protect her last night when bullets were whistling through the air and bodies were dropping around us.

I roughly drag my fingers through my hair as I pace around my penthouse with Saturday morning’s warm sunshine streaming through my large windows. My eyes ache from lack of sleep, but my muscles are tense and ready to strike at any second.

Being on someone’s kill list has been normal for me since I was born into the Bratva family, but Cara could’ve been hurt last night. She risked herself to save me.

If she’d taken that bullet, the guilt would’ve buried me.

I grab my cell phone off the glass coffee table in front of my sectional. Opening my messages, I scroll past all the ones from my men about the attack last night. So far, we have no leads, which is frustrating as fuck but expected.

The shooters were smart and slipped away like shadows into the night, not leaving behind any trace. They’re human, though, and if there’s one thing that we can rely on humans to do, it’s fucking up at some point.

We’ll figure out who they are soon, and they’ll no longer be a problem for anyone else.

I tap on my message chain with Cara, my thumb hovering over the keyboard once it pops up. I watched her walk into her apartment building last night, so I know that she’s okay.

Unless someone followed her.

“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, unable to shake my wariness. I type out a quick message to her asking if she’s okay before sending it.

A minute later, my phone buzzes in my hand.

I’m okay. Still just a little shaken up but I’ll be fine by Monday. Thank you for checking on me.

I consider telling her to take Monday off work, but I know that she won’t accept that. I drum my finger against the side of my phone, feeling torn between leaving the conversation at that or asking if she would like to talk about last night.

Sure, it seems like she’s seen some crazy shit thanks to her criminal ex, but almost getting killed must’ve been a nightmare for her.

What if it scares her away?

I can’t afford that.

Before I can decide on what to do to ensure she stays, there’s a knock on my front door. I have men posted in the area to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious, so whoever it is can’t be a threat.

I pocket my phone and walk to the foyer. There’s a handgun stashed in the back of my pants, another in the drawer of the table in the entryway.