But I will not let them.
I’ll do whatever I need to do to keep my husband safe.
* * *
While I’m waitingfor the café staff to get the large order together, I wander into the chapel, a place that has become familiar to me now. It’s empty, so I take a seat up front, staring at what I assume is supposed to be a serenity-inducing blue glass artwork that hangs on the wall at the front, very carefully non-specific to any religion.
Aidan was surprised when I joined him here on the night of Luca’s admission into the hospital. Prayer was Aidan’s first thought, of course. But for me, the chapel offered an opportunity for quiet, and to get away from the heavy presence of law enforcement near the operating room, as though Luca might wake mid-surgery and make a run for it, holding in his insides while he did.
Carlo Bianchi has worked hard to keep both the locals and the Feds away from me since then, and I appreciate his work. But that night, the chapel offered a place to think. And, for me, it was also an opportunity to bargain with my old frenemy, Death.
I begin that bargaining process again now, glaring so hard at the blue glass mosaic that I wouldn’t be surprised to see it shatter.You can take me, I offer this time.You always were a fucking cocktease, edging me all those years, why not just take me now? Take me, leave Luca.
I’m so focused, my lips moving along with my thoughts, that when someone sits down beside me, I jump. “Aidan?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your prayers.”
It would scandalize Aidan to explain to him exactly what I’m doing. Who I’m praying to. But he’s been so kind to me the past few days, so gentle. “It’s alright.” And then I grab at his wrist, making him wince. “Aidan—is Luca—”
“He’s fine,” he assures me at once, patting my hand, and I ease up the pressure.
“But someone needs to be in that room with him at all—”
“Someoneiswith him,” Aidan tells me, and he’s smiling.
Smiling?
I jump up from my seat. “Who?” I demand, fear still coursing through me. I’m getting angry, too. Who the hell could Aidan trust so much that he’s abandoned Luca’s bedside?
There’sno one. No one else in the whole world I would let that close to Luca, not unaccompanied, and a wave of betrayal comes over me, fury at Aidan for daring to make that decision without consulting me first.
“Who?” I shout again.
As soon as Aidan stammers out a name, I take off running.
Chapter Seven
FINCH
When I reach Luca’s room, with Carlucci sprinting along behind me, the Morelli guards are grinning at each other, their faces still weary, but something in their eyes that I haven’t seen for days. Hope.
I burst right through the middle of them and fling open the door.
Standing over my husband is a shambling figure with a ruined face and a prosthetic hand. He looks up when I throw myself towards him, turning awkwardly so that his one working eye can take me in. He only just has time to recognize me before I’m on top of him.
“Brother Frank,” I sob into his neck.
He gathers me up tight and holds me close. “Ey,Principessa. I missed you.”
I need a moment with my face buried to pull myself together, and Frank, bless him, lets me have it. He hugs me until I pull back from him, and then he smiles down into my wet face. “How you doin’?” he asks softly.
I thought I was okay, but at his question my lips start trembling again and I can only shake my head. He glances over the top of me to the doorway, his muscles bunching, readying. “Who’s this?”
I turn, relieved to have the distraction, and wave Gio into the room. He’s on high alert as well for some reason, and then I realize—he’s never met Frank D’Amato, Luca’s brother. Gio joined the Family after Frank and his wife, Celia—one of my closest friends—left the country. “Gio,” I say, sniffing and motioning him still closer. “This is Frankie. The Boss’s brother.”
Gio’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit,” he says, and drops his hand from where it’s been hovering over his gun. “No kidding?”
“This is Gio Carlucci,” I tell Frank. “He’s—”
