“Good,” Ilsa replied, Roman grunting in approval behind her. “I’m glad he’s dead. He can’t torture you any longer, Naomi. You’re free.”
I was, but not even that mattered if Gavril didn’t make it through his surgery.
My best friend reached over and touched my arm, her eyes sympathetic. It hadn’t been too long ago that the roles were reversed, and she was the one waiting to hear if Roman was going to make it. I remembered how she had reacted that day and the emotional roller coaster ride that had been.
This was no different.
“Gavril is strong,” Ilsa replied softly. “He’s going to make it.”
“And he ensured that Hampton would go down as the asshole he was,” Roman added, his jaw clenched.
I looked at him, then at Ilsa, who also was nodding. “Gavril called Roman,” she started, surprising me. “He told me about what he had found in the apartment and how it would implicate Jon as a stalker if need be. I have already sent a team over there, an anonymous call, of course. His career will be ruined, and he will go down in history as a black sheep of the FBI, Naomi.”
My heart stuttered in my chest at what Gavril had done to ensure that Jon wouldn’t have a future, even if he had survived somehow. He had been protecting me right up to the end. “I can’t lose him,” I whispered, more tears sliding down my cheeks. By now I would have thought I couldn’t cry anymore, but each time, the tears came.
“He’s a tough bastard,” Roman sighed, thrusting his hand through his hair. “And he will live just so that he can kick my ass out of his house. Trust me.”
I eyed the Mafia don, wondering if there would ever come a day that either of them would tell me why they had this rift between them. It was going to make double dates harder in the future.
“What?” Ilsa asked, her eyes searching mine.
Realizing I had cracked a smile, I shook my head. “I was just thinking of double dates.”
Roman snorted behind his wife. “That will be a cold day in hell.”
“Roman,” Ilsa said sharply, eyeing her husband. “You know that it’s a possibility.”
“Only if we can bring our knives,” he chided softly. “Sorry, girls. We aren’t going to become best friends. It doesn’t happen that way in our world.”
Ilsa rolled her eyes at her husband before turning back to me. “Stupid if you ask me. You would think that they would be just a little grown up about it instead of acting like children.”
“Not fair,” he called out. “This feud has been around longer than you two have.”
“And?” Ilsa demanded, her eyes flashing. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I felt some of the weight lift off my shoulders at their bickering. I had to believe that Gavril and I would be doing this soon, bickering over trivial things just so we could make up in the end. I wanted that sort of life, that relationship that was going to be the best thing in my life.
“Ignore him,” my best friend muttered. “He’s just sensitive to the fact they might actually be friends one day.”
“I can hear you,” her husband growled. “I’m right here.”
I smiled faintly when Ilsa turned and shot him the bird, finding it hard to believe that she had the Mafia don so wrapped around her finger like this.
“So,” Ilsa stated, turning back to me. “What will you and Gavril do now?”
I appreciated my best friend for acting like Gavril wasn’t upstairs fighting for his life. She always knew what to say, what to do, and I had always been helpless when it came to even giving her hope. Ilsa had been my rock for so long that I couldn’t imagine doing anything on my own, and when she had met Roman, it had forced me to learn to fend for myself.
Either that or Gavril had forced it upon me. Either way, I was strong because of it. “I really don’t know,” I said before a thought hit me. “Oh God, I need to let his mom know.” She would never forgive me if her only son died and she didn’t know.
“Wait,” Roman replied, surprising us both. “I would wait until we know more.”
“He’s right,” Ilsa said softly. “Wait until you know.” She didn’t continue, but she didn’t have to. I didn’t know if Gavril was alive or dead at this point.
Footsteps sounded from the stairs and I rose to my feet as Oleg came into view, looking exhausted. “He’s going to make it,” he told me.
My knees buckled, but my best friend was right there to hold me up. “He’s going to make it,” she repeated, giving me a squeeze. “Go see him, Naomi.”
Oleg gave me a nod and I pushed the hair out of my face, giving the couple a grateful smile as I followed behind the brigadier to the main level of the house. It looked as if someone had been busy, Vera and Ivan’s bodies no longer resting in the foyer, but I knew if I closed my eyes, I would still see them there.