I glanced at Lucia. Marco wasn’t one to cry wolf.
“I’ll be right back,” I said to her as I climbed out I settled her against the back of the tub.
“What’s urgent?” she asked.
I dried off and wrapped a towel around my hips. “No idea.” I went into the bedroom. One look at Marco told me this was bad. “What is it?”
He glanced toward the bathroom. I followed his gaze, then walked over closer to him.
“What’s happened, Marco?” I asked more quietly, so Lucia wouldn’t hear.
“There’s been a shooting.”
My entire body tightened. “Who?”
“Luke DeMarco. He’s being airlifted to Bellevue Hospital right now.”
“Fuck.”
“What’s happened, Salvatore?” I turned to find Lucia wrapped in a towel, hopping on one leg, leaning her weight against the wall.
“It’s Luke.” I went to her, put her arm over my shoulder, and propped her up by her waist. “He’s been shot.”
“Oh my God! Is he okay?”
“Not sure yet.”
“I have to call Izzy. She wasn’t there, was she?”
“I don’t know.”
“Shit, my phone is downstairs.”
“Here,” Marco said, handing her his.
She looked at him as if she were surprised, but took it and dialed.
A knock came at the door. Rainey peeked her head inside and held up the crutches Dr. Mooney had ordered.
“Already here,” she said, her smile fading when she saw the looks on our faces.
“Thank you, Rainey,” I said, taking them from her. “Maybe you can make us all a pot of coffee.”
Lucia looked up at me. “I’m on my way, Izzy,” she said into her phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up.
“Salvatore, I have to go to them.”
I nodded. “We’ll get dressed and go.”
Lucia blushed, and Marco and Rainey awkwardly left the room. I went into her bedroom and chose some clothes: a dress and a sweater in case it was cool at the hospital. I helped her get her clothes on before getting dressed myself. I handed her the crutches that had just been delivered.
“Thanks.”
Since she had never used crutches before—and there was no time to practice—I ended up carrying Lucia down the stairs—it was just faster that way—and asked Marco to follow us.
“Did your sister know anything?” I asked Lucia once we were in the car and on our way.
“No. Only that he was in critical condition. He took two bullets, one to the stomach, the other in his shoulder. She’s a mess.”
