Ashe sank down beside him, taking his hand, but leaning toward Anton. There was no animosity on her face. She didn’t really understand—no one who hadn’t lived their life could—but she still had that compassion in her Timur had come to rely on.
“He needed you,” Anton explained. Blood bubbled around his lips. He coughed.
Timur could see his leopard staring at Ashe. He tightened his fingers around her hand. It felt small, which was deceptive, because she was a very strong woman. She reached with her other hand and laid her palm very gently on Anton’s face and stared back at the leopard. She didn’t move until the light had faded completely from his eyes. Then she turned to Timur and buried her face in his chest and wept.
He got to his feet, taking her with him, holding her close. He knew they had to clean up the evidence fast, get each of the bodies out and burned before anyone tipped off the cops. Silencers muffled sound on a gun, but didn’t entirely get rid of it. An early morning shopkeeper might have heard something. Guns or leopards, it didn’t matter. Fortunately, it was still very early and dark, so no one else appeared to be moving around the back side of the shops. So far, no one had come into the back alley.
Jack Bannaconni had sent a helicopter for the two injured men, along with medics who could work on leopards. He’d established a small, private hospital for them on property he’d purchased, and Gorya’s and Jeremiah’s would be the first two surgeries performed there.
Timur’s men swept in, rushing toward the bathroom where Ashe directed them. Timur took his time, stepping around each of those lying on the floor in the midst of what looked like bloody flour. He took Ashe with him, keeping her face pressed close. He had no idea why he was protecting her from looking at the dead bodies when she had killed them and he was very proud of her, but instinct had him doing just that.
More men poured in. These began wrapping bodies in tarps taken from vans and removed them quickly.
“You did very well, baby, but I have to see Gorya and Jeremiah. Jeremiah texted all the details, and the surgeon told him how to keep Gorya alive.” He could hear the tightness in his voice, but mostly he felt it in his heart. He loved Gorya as a brother. They’d grown up together, protecting each other from his father. They’d made pacts, taken blood vows to always have each other’s back.
Ashe looked up at him, her fingers gently touching his face. “He’s strong.”
Timur knew that about his cousin. Gorya was one of the strongest men he knew. Fyodor, Sevastyan and Mitya were all strong. They had to be in order to have survived their lairs and their fathers.
“What the hell did you do to this place?” he asked as he picked his way through the rubble that had once been a state-of-the-art kitchen. Evangeline had started with a few good necessary big items, like her ovens, but her husband had recently replaced everything with top-of-the-line ovens, refrigerators, freezer, warmers, dishwasher, anything he could give her to make her life easier. “It looks like a war zone.”
“Oh no, I left the stove on.” Ashe hurried to turn off the stove and caught up with him as he stepped into the bathroom.
The medics were working on Gorya, getting him ready for transport. His face was leeched of all color. In fact, if anything he looked gray. The floor was slick with blood. Jeremiah had blood all over him. He was awake and had two men crouched beside him, hooking him up to all kinds of lines.
“Gorya?” Timur asked abruptly.
One man glanced over his shoulder. “Touch and go. We’ve got to get him to the doc right now.” He looked at the two with Jeremiah, one eyebrow lifted.
“Get him in the bird and we’ll be right behind you,” one said. “Go.”
Timur touched Gorya’s hand as his cousin was taken out. He turned back to watch the men working on Jeremiah. The kid attempted a grin of all things.
“Your woman’s a badass, Timur,” he said. “She can’t cook worth shit, but she’s a total badass.”
Timur nodded and crouched beside the younger man, taking care to stay out of the way of the two men strapping him to the gurney. Very carefully, he removed the gun from the kid’s fist.
“Don’t ever cross her,” Jeremiah warned. “She knows more ways to kill a man than I do. Seriously, boss, don’t do it.”
“No worries, Jeremiah,” Timur assured. “I have no intention of crossing her.”
“She’s inventive when it comes to killing men.” He beckoned Timur closer and waited for him to bend down. He looked left and right to make certain no one would overhear him. “You’re so lucky, man. She’s a total babe,” he whispered. “She’s a man killer, and that’s hot as hell.”