“Mrs. Caraldi, please,” the officer says. “You need to focus on me.” I stare at him blankly for a second. “Your husband is at the general hospital. I’ve been instructed to take you to him.”
“What?” I manage to get out. Relief is fighting for a hold over the nausea that had overwhelmed me.
“Your husband is in hospital,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I should have gotten straight to the point, but…” He trails off.
I guess I jumped the gun.
“He’s alive?” I croak. Strength is returning in a rush as the dizziness subsides. It comes and goes so rapidly that it’s little wonder I dropped like a stone. I push myself into a sitting position, batting Paolo’s hands away as he fusses about me. Grizzled mafia dudes are not designed for that shit.
Ireallymiss Parker.
“Yes, he’s alive, Ma’am,” the officer confirms. “And he was asking for you. I’m here to provide a police escort.”
I sway slightly as I get to my feet but nod firmly as I start heading to the door.
“Signora?” Paolo looks flustered.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” I snap.
Jesus, these men!
One moment they’re babbling about police escorts, and the next, they’re flapping about like a bunch of old ladies. Grabbing my coat and purse, I’m out of the door and in the elevator before they can object.
Minutes later, we’re cutting a path through New York’s night traffic, our driver maneuvering expertly as the squad car lights the way ahead in flashing blue.
I had no idea this sort of thing could be arranged for civilians. Then again, this is Raoul we’re talking about. The man’s capable of anything.
We pull up at the hospital, gliding to a halt at the entrance to the Emergency ward. The officer is out of his vehicle and holding my door open, allowing me to slide out of the car.
“I’m afraid there may be some follow-up questions, Ma’am,” he says quietly, shooting a look at the men who are emerging from the vehicle around me. “Matters involving your husband. Sensitive matters. You’ll understand, I’m sure?”
What? This is some kind of shakedown, after all?
“Sure.” I flap a hand. “Arrange it with Paolo.” His face darkens, realizing he’s got a snowball’s chance of getting that right. But if he thinks he can intimidate me with his damn uniform, he’s got another thing coming. This is not my first rodeo. My dad saw to that. And my dad’s about to see another thing coming when I get my freaking hands on the old cunt.
I barge through the reception area, slapping my palms onto the front desk and startling a nurse standing there.
“Caraldi,” I say curtly because I’m still pissed at the cop’s arrogance. “Raoul Caraldi,” I add.
“Are you family, Ma’am?” She runs an eye over me.
“I’m his wife,” I snap, almost turning my back on her as I glance around the busy room, but not before I catch a raised eyebrow.
“His wife?”
“Is that a problem?” I scowl at her. My mood is darkening by the second as adrenaline continues to battle with relief.
“Not at all, Ma’am. Do you have identification?”
Is she yanking my chain?
I reach for my purse a moment before I hear a flurry of female laughter from the far end of the ward. It’s followed by a throaty chuckle that has my skin prickling into gooseflesh. I know that sound. A screen slides open and offers a brief flash of golden flesh stretched out on crisp linen.
Linen that’s streaked with blood. My heart thunders.
And then a blonde nurse steps into my line of sight, setting a hand lightly over a muscled shoulder. A muscled shoulder that I recognize all too well. A shoulder that leads to a strong column of neck, a chiseled jawline, and a smile made for sin.
The sight of her hand on his skin has an unfamiliar sensation bubbling up my throat.
