Doctored Vows - Chapter 26

Although the graffiti on my locker was scrubbed off by the time I returned from a double shift, even now, four days later, I’m still scalded with squinted glares and cold shoulders during the short trek across the assigned space for doctors to get ready in.

I assumed their narrowmindedness was because they’d heard about my run-ins with Dr. Abdulov in the weeks leading to his disappearance. However, I learned otherwise when I read the numerous headlines Myasnikov News has been running this week.

Instead of keeping readers abreast about three missing men, they’ve run a week-long feature on my nuptials with Maksim. Numerous images in their three-page spread included the videos and stills I stole from Zoya when I airdropped them to my cell phone.

To anyone outside of the Bratva world, I look like a gushing, loved-up bride.

From the response of my colleagues, I was the only fool unaware of what the Ivanov name represented when I assessed Maksim’s mother.

I stop staring into space when a kind voice asks, “Are you all right?” When I peek out from behind my locker door, Alla props her shoulder onto the doorjamb of the locker room and then offers me a contrite smile.

“Don’t let the haters get to you. Half of their snickers are because they’re insanely jealous. He didn’t shut up about you the entire time he was touring what will be the new wing earlier this week.” An expression crosses her face I can’t quite work out.

“The way he growled ‘my wife’ any time you were mentioned… damn, girl. I almost fainted.”

I smile. It can’t be helped. That is precisely what Zoya would say if our calls lasted more than a few seconds. She swears she isn’t avoiding me and that she’s just busy helping Aleena with final preparations for the wedding, but I have a feeling she knows I know she is the source for Myasnikov News’ latest feature.

My smile sags when Alla drops her eyes to my empty ring hand.

Every day before my shift, I remove my rings and place them in my locker, where I intend for them to remain. I don’t put them back on. Ever. They just appear magically on my hand each morning when I wake up from an unrestful slumber.

I asked Ano about it yesterday morning. He laughed and shook his head before he returned his eyes to the road.

I want to believe Maksim is placing my wedding rings back on, but shouldn’t I sense his presence?

Before his secrets were exposed, I noticed the most minor details.

Now I feel like I couldn’t spot him in a crowd.

When Alla peers at me in silent questioning, I say, “It’s complicated.” I’m unwilling to open that can of worms at any time of the day, much less at 2 a.m. on a Sunday. “Are you on your way in or out?”

Her chest sinks as she exhales. “Out. Thank God. It’s been a crazy house here the past few weeks. I’m beat.” My heart melts when she enters the locker room, throws her arm around my shoulders, and then guides us toward the exit.

“But not too tired to walk home my favorite doctor. I’ve missed you so much. It isn’t the same place without you.”

“I was planning to visit you on Donut Holes Thursday and then…” My words trail off. I’m too ashamed to admit two detectives basically interrogated me.

Alla is just like Zoya. She would never let me off so easily. “You got a visit from Tweedledum and Tweedledee?” When my sigh answers her question on my behalf, she bumps me with her hip. “They’ve been sniffing around a lot the past few days. The girl⁠—”

“Lara,” I interrupt, conscious she is terrible with names.

“She’s good. Decent, even. But Ivan…” He must have rubbed her the wrong way if she remembered his name. “He’s a snake in long grass.”

“More like a bull in a China shop.”

She throws her head back and laughs. “Just with smaller balls.” When I roll my eyes, her laughter loudens. “He has major small dick vibes.”

Her voice suddenly turns husky. “Unlike your husband.” She lassoes the air while galloping like a cowgirl. “I would have saddled up and rode him all the way to the altar too, even without requesting him to whip it out so I could check he was a thoroughbred.”

“Alla!”

I can’t stop laughing, and the more I try to discipline myself for its inappropriateness, the more it occurs.

I miss the playfulness of exchanges like this. More people surround me now than ever, but I’ve never felt more lonely.

That confession takes care of my giggles. They’re under control and locked away by the time we arrive at Alla’s car, parked a few spots up from the staff-only exit of Myasnikov Private.

“This is me,” Alla says. “Let me put away my things, and then I’ll walk you the rest of the way.”

My mouth gapes like it hears the hundreds of cuss words tumbling around in my head, but it isn’t willing to say them.

When Alla locks up her vehicle in preparation to chaperone my walk home, I say, “It’s fine. I’ve got this. You go.”

She fans her hands across her tiny hips before cocking a brow. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this, but you’re a bad liar.”

I speak before my body can consider sobbing. “I may have been informed of that a handful of times.”

She thanks me for my honesty with a smile before saying, “What’s going on? You seem… scared.”

I’m not scared. I’m just… scared. Ano is great, but I’d never want to be on his bad side. He has the same dangerous edge as Maksim but without the burden of being the head of a family. That level of freedom only ever ends one way—recklessly.

When Alla encourages me to continue down the truthful route, what should be a short sentence takes a long time to be delivered since I’m praying it won’t make me sound like a snob. “I have a driver waiting for me.”

“A driver?” She wolf whistles.

“It’s not like that. He’s a friend of Maksim’s⁠—”

“Who drives you to work every day?” When I nod, Alla says, “Then that makes him your driver, baby girl.” She takes a moment to relish my grimace before she nudges her head to the entrance we broke through only minutes ago. “Go on. I’ll wait for you to enter before I leave. These alleyways give me the creeps.”

I see her fear worsening if she knew this was the alleyway where Dr. Abdulov lost his life, so instead of announcing that, I tell her to climb into the driver’s seat and wind down the window.

“Don’t act like your squeal isn’t loud enough to alert everyone within five miles to any danger occurring,” I say when she attempts an objection.

“Fine. You’ve convinced me.” She unlocks her car door and slips inside before winding down the window.

“But I’m going to start the engine too. Zero to sixty in under a second wasn’t solely designed for race car drivers.” Giggles bubble in my chest again when she scans the dark, dingy alleyway before saying, “This alleyway could do with a speedbump or two. It will stop the hoons.”

“You’re the only hoon I see racing up and down this street.”

Her smile is brighter than the moon. “That is true.”

I take a mental note to introduce her to Zoya before spinning on my heels and walking away from my apartment building.

It seems stupid to return to the hospital and ride the elevator to the underground parking garage, but from the snippets of information Ano has shared with me over the past four days, Maksim has enough on his plate. He doesn’t need me going AWOL added to the long list.

The night I confronted Maksim about the legitimacy of our marriage wasn’t the only night he’s spent at Myasnikov PD. He’s been there every night since, and it has me worried I will be subpoenaed as a witness for the DA like I was for my father’s case.

He told me to be honest on the stand, so I was.

I’m reasonably sure my confession pulled the jury over the DA’s fence.

If I had lied, he may still be here, helping me wade through the mess.

Alla’s toot as she drives past the entrance I’ve just walked through pulls me from my horrid thoughts. She zips out of the alleyway like she’s as eager to be reintroduced to her bed as I am, narrowly missing Ano sprinting around the corner like it is faster to chase me down on foot than steer a bulky SUV up multiple levels of narrow parking.

He almost runs past me.

A quick glance through the tinted doors is the only thing that saves him from a predawn workout.

“What the fuck, Doc? Maksim thought you were running,” he mutters breathlessly, joining me in the corridor outside the ER. “He’s about to lose his shit.”

“I wasn’t running. I was…” Having a high IQ doesn’t automatically equate to having stellar common sense. I am a prime example of this. “Why would he think I’d run now?”

I swallow harshly when my last memory rolls through my head like a movie. I testified against my father, my flesh and blood, so Maksim has every right to be worried.

I told him it was the spouse’s choice whether they testified before making out that I could go against him without the slightest bit of remorse. I’ve never informed him any differently because I honestly don’t know which team I’m meant to be on.

I always thought it would be with the victims, but my father’s case taught me that that isn’t necessarily true.

Sometimes victims are assailants too.

My issues stem more from their ability to alter my life course.

They can take more from me than the people they hurt. At one stage, they made me believe my life wasn’t worth living. That’s why I wanted Maksim to promise he wouldn’t do anything that would put me in the predicament of him being taken from me as well.

I wanted him to uphold the pledge my parents didn’t maintain.

Was that fair of me to do? No, not at all. But I have more abandonment issues than jealousy and vows I had no intention of speaking to advocate.

I am swimming in waters out of my depth, and the chances of my going under increase when Ano says, “I’ve got eyes on her. She’s standing right in front of me.”

Maksim is doing everything right. He is protecting me and sheltering me from additional harm, but can that excuse murder?

I honestly don’t know.

Ano’s eyes dart to something left of my shoulder before he shoves me back two paces. “Better?”

I can’t hear what the person on the other end of his earpiece says, but they must disengage their connection shortly after, because Ano speaks as if no one else is listening in while escorting me to the elevators as he has the past four days.

“He’s moody as fuck when he isn’t getting any.” I realize I have the situation wrong when he continues talking.

“That’s what I said. Some chicks dig somnophilia.” His laugh bounces off the closed elevator walls and rumbles through my chest. “There’s no way I could lay next to my girl all night and not touch her.”

I snap my eyes away when the reflective paneling of the elevator doors alerts him that he’s caught an admirer, but I’m too late to hide my snooping ways.

“We’ll finish this later.” He jerks up his chin like the person he’s chatting with can see him. “I’d say under an hour. She looks zonked.”

As the elevator arrives at the underground parking garage, he slides a bead-like device out of his ear and stores it in his pocket. “Best thing that ever came out of the US,” he murmurs when he notices the direction of my gaze. “That and Hooters.”

I roll my eyes before helming our walk to the SUV. I’m so tired that I don’t wait for Ano to open my door, neither here nor at my apartment. I don’t even guzzle down the vitamin water I consume at night to replace the electrolytes I lose during late shifts because breaks are minimal and snacks are hard to come by.

I make a beeline for the sofa bed, preferring it over the option Ano offered on day two of our unexpected roommate experience. He wanted me to sleep in my grandparents’ bed. I couldn’t do that. Not solely because it is hard and lumpy but because it is the bed my parents shared when we first moved to Russia.

It was the one thing that was solely theirs. They didn’t have to share it with anyone, and I wanted it to stay that way until I found out a new mattress costs more than my grandfather’s monthly medication.

Even with my grandfather in the forefront of my mind, I can’t pretend my head isn’t about to explode out of my nostrils. “Can you ask Dr. Muhamed to slide my grandfather’s latest workup under my door? My head is thumping.”

“Then you should drink something. You’ll only make it worse by going to bed without taking something for it.” Ano taps two headache tablets into his palm before he shoves them under my nose with a bottle of vitamin water from the refrigerator.

“I don’t want to take anything.”

“Doc—”

“The more you try to medicate headaches, the more headaches you get. Analgesics dependency is no different from any other dependency.”

He’s not up for a lecture, so he tries to take another route to drag me over my stubbornness. “Then drink some water.”

“I will,” I murmur groggily. “Later.”

“Not later. Now.” He unscrews the cap of the vitamin water while grumbling under his breath that he isn’t dealing with the mess that comes from migraines.

“I don’t do piss, shit, or vomit. Those are my limitations. I’d rather clean up a blood bath than my father’s stinky whiskey barfs any day of the week…” He freezes before his face screws up.

He’s so deep in thought it takes me saying his name three times before he finally looks at me. “Was that your first memory of your father since your accident?”

I don’t know a lot about what happened to Ano when he was sixteen, but I know his injuries weren’t caused naturally. Someone struck him hard enough that they cracked his skull in multiple places. He didn’t tell me that. I read it on his online medical record I unearthed when searching for information about Maksim’s years of childhood abuse.

“Ano?” I prompt when he remains quiet.

“Yeah.” He shakes his head like he’d rather get rid of the memory he just unearthed than encourage more like it before he places the open bottle onto the side table I’m using like a bedside table.

“You should drink that, and I’m gonna… ah…” He flicks his eyes to the front door of my apartment before focusing on the one behind him. “I’m going to shower.”

“Okay.”

He smiles to assure me he is okay before he makes a beeline for the bathroom. I’m so tired I should be asleep before he turns on the shower, but I’m not.

It takes several hours for my exhaustion to pull me under, and even then, it’s cut short by the shrill of an alarm.