I groaned, rubbing my eyes. “Um… Rhett and I might have been watching porn last night. Anyway, call me back if you find anything.” I quickly ended the call, then focused on what had just come up on the TV. Then I hit redial.
“Bella, baby, it’s rude to hang up like that. I wanna hear more about this porn you’ve been watching. Is it kinky shit?” Angelo was chuckling, and I rolled my eyes.
“Focus, Ricci. Turn on the news. Looks like Jeremiah did followed through.” I tapped the volume button up, listening as the reporters gave brief details of what was a years-long case being built against some key players in the Siena mafia.
Angelo scoffed, clearly watching the same thing now. “Years long, my ass. They’d be nowhere without our help. Still… it does look like he held up his end of the deal. What will Rhett do now?”
I chewed the edge of my thumbnail, anxiety curling through my stomach. “Sign away half his liver, I guess. Save an evil man’s life.” I gritted my teeth, hating that Rhett was in this position. We never should have agreed to his plan.
“Well… tell him we’re thinking of him,” Angelo murmured, his voice rough. “And we appreciate him.” Cute. “NI wanna know what sort of porn you’ve been watching with him. Give me a hint, Bella. Just boring, intro porn? Or is he tossing you in the deep end with gang bangs to give you ideas for our next family bonding session?”
Oh man. Now I was getting all worked up. “I’m not talking about this with you, Angel,” I groaned, then laughed. “Go back to your workout; I’ll call from the hospital.”
He gave a horny moan, then started chuckling. “Fine. I love you, Bella. Today, tomorrow, and always.”
Oh geez, he was going to make me cry with an out-of-the-blue sentimental statement like that. “Love you too, Angel,” I replied in a whisper, then ended the call and started packing up my little suitcase of stuff.
When Rhett returned from the bathroom, I showed him the news story, which was still playing out on the TV, and he nodded without any emotion. “I guess… I guess that’s it, then. We should go.”
I grabbed his hand, pulling him in close, and pressed my forehead to his. “You don’t have to do this, Zepp. He doesn’t deserve mercy.”
Rhett inhaled deeply, then gave me a weak smile. “I know. Come on, let’s get this over with.”
I had to bite my tongue to stop pushing the issue with him when his mind was already made up. So I just held his hand silently as we drove back to Townsend and checked in at the hospital reception. All of a sudden, we were swept up in a flurry of motion as they pushed and pulled Rhett, getting him ready forurgentsurgery. Apparently, Jeremiah was right at the end, so if we waited another day, he would probably not make it.
It was a shame. I’d quietly hoped the old fuck would die before the IRS pulled off their sting.
As it was, I got pushed aside into a waiting room while Rhett was admitted as a patient and stripped down to a hospital gown. I hovered in the doorway, watching at a distance while a nurse inserted an IV line into the back of his tattooed hand, and someone in a suit waved a clipboard of paperwork under his face.
He took the pen from the suited douchebag's hand, then looked over at me across the space to where I’d been told to wait. We locked eyes, and I tried to convey to him how much I fucking loved him. How he could walk away right now and I’d have his back. We all would. But then he just gave me a sad smile and scribbled his signature on the forms.
The social worker—presumably that’s who it was—whisked the clipboard away and exited the room, leaving the hospital staff to start pushing Rhett’s bed out into the corridor. As soon as he came close, I grabbed his hand, linking our fingers together as I walked alongside while they pushed his bed toward the operating room.
“Ma’am, you need to go back to the waiting room,” one of the nurses informed me with a pinched expression. It took all my strengthnotto punch her in the mouth. Normally I had the utmost respect for nurses, but thisentiretown gave me the creeps. Every single person within it was complicit in Jeremiah Townsends disgusting abuses, so my patience had worn right out.
“Fuck off,” Rhett snarled. “She can come as far as the operating room doors. Or would you like me to cause a scene and delay things further? Because I am innohurry. Can you say the same for Jeremiah?”
The nurse narrowed her eyes like she wanted to argue—if only for the sake of arguing—but one of her colleagues pulled her aside and the orderlies started pushing the bed once more. No one else spoke the whole way to the operating room, where Jeremiah was already waiting in the corridor outside, frail and weak in his bed, waiting to be wheeled inside with Rhett.
This was the first time I’d seen Rhett’s grandfather, and he looked like the slimy fuck I expected. With veneers, whisps of hair transplants, and an obvious face lift, he would have worn the crafted face of an extremely successful older man, if his liver hadn’t decided to do us all a favor and peace out on him.
“Okay, good, there’s no time for delays; we need to get started immediately,” the smarmy fuck of a doctor from the other day announced, spearing me with a hate-filled look. “Why is she here? This isn’t a visitor’s area.”
“Shut up,” Rhett barked, glaring daggers as his fingers tightened on mine. “I have another request before we do this.”
“No!” the doctor snapped back. “No more stalling. You got what you wanted—whatever that was—and now you need to follow through. Mr. Townsend doesn’t have any time for more games, and you’ve signed your consent form, so, I’m sorry, but we’re doing this. Now.”
That wasn’t true. Rhett could remove consent any time he wanted. But I got the feeling they’d force the issue then rely on theconsent formto justify the surgery and discredit me as a witness of Rhett’s refusal.
Jeremiah seemed so weak he barely even managed to roll his head to the side to look at Rhett. Hisson. Fucking hell, evil came in all shapes. Right now, it stared at my love with yellow eyes like the demon in him was finally showing through. “What do you want?” he whispered.
Rhett remained cool and calm, the only tell of his anxiety in how tight he held my hand. “I need to see my mom. I can’t just trust your word that she’s alive. Bring her here, and then we can continue.”
Jeremiah didn’t respond for a few moments, and the doctor opened his mouth as if to throw his authority around again. He shut up when Jeremiah raised a weak hand.
“Fine. Get Mary here,” he told the staff, not directing the request at anyone in particular. Why bother when they all worked for him?
One of the nurses whispered a quick, “Yes, Father of Good,” before scurrying away, and I nearly gagged on my disgust.
