The Canal Street property is one of several safehouses I maintain throughout the city.
Places not connected to the Vitale name through any paper trail similar to her building that I also own.
I pull into the underground garage, relief washing over me when I spot Angelo’s car already there.
He's waiting by the elevator, expression grim when he sees Olivia in my arms.
"Boss, what the?—"
"Later. Help me get her upstairs. Doc's on his way."
In the apartment, I lay Olivia on the bed in the master suite. Blood seeps through my shirt sleeve, but I ignore it, focusing on checking her injuries.
The head wound on the front of her head looks worse than it is. Scalp wounds always bleed like hell, but I'm worried about the lump at the back of her head.
"She looks like that Fed,” Angelo says, hovering in the doorway.
I press a clean towel to Olivia's head wound. "She’s a fucking idiot for not listening to me."
I watch Olivia's eyelids flutter, relief washing through me, until they close again.
“Go check on Dr. Moretti.”
Angelo leaves, returning a few minutes later with the doctor, as Olivia’s eyes flutter open again.
"Dom?" Her voice is hoarse. She winces, hand moving to her temple. “What happened?
“You were attacked. This is Dr. Moretti.”
I step aside to let him care for Olivia. It doesn’t seem like he’s spent nearly enough time when he announces she has a mild concussion and patches up her cuts.
“That’s it? She was out for a long time.” I roll my shoulders, this feeling of panic is unusual for someone outside the family.
“That’s it. She needs rest.”
“I’ll show him out,” Angelo says.
“Put on extra guards but keep them discreet.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” Angelo takes one more look at Olivia and then me. But he’s smart enough not to ask again about who she is and why I’ve brought her here.
I go to the bathroom and bring back a glass of water for her.
"What happened? Where am I?" Olivia asks again.
"You were attacked outside your apartment. I happened to be nearby." No need to explain I was essentially stalking her building. Again. "This is one of my properties. You're safe here."
She tries to sit up. I help her, adjusting pillows behind her back.
"How long was I out?" she asks, eyeing the bandage on my arm.
Too long as far as I’m concerned. “Thirty minutes, give or take."
Olivia looks around the room, taking in the expensive furnishings, the security panel by the door. Understanding dawns on her face.
"A safehouse." It's not a question. "I need to call this in?—"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" The words explode out of me. "Someone just tried to kill you, and your first instinct is to report back to the people who probably ordered the hit?"
