“What about the doctors?”
“Other than the surgeon, everyone has been taken care of. They’ve been paid off to keep their mouths shut.”
Not liking the sound of that, Othello’s brows furrowed. “Why is he left out of the loop? What could this mean for us?”
“His case is a little delicate, but we have someone working on him. He’s more curious than the rest. We had his department head back off for now, but we have someone else making sure he doesn’t talk. Don’t worry.”
Othello wasn’t settled on that answer, but he trusted Iago to take care of things and eliminate any paper trail that might lead back to them. It wouldn’t be good if the cops on their payroll learned about their activities.
“What about things with Falcon?”
“We’ve put that on hold for now,” Iago told him.
“Why?”
“Do you need to ask?”
Othello sighed, sinking deep into his pillow. He didn’t like what he was hearing. They needed that deal to go through. Othello had plans for the properties they would be gaining and didn’t think letting the events of a couple of nights ago stop their progress was sensible. He needed to get out of here and take care of things, or at least convince Don Alessandro to go through with everything. He was awake now and wasn’t at death’s door, so they shouldn’t wait any longer.
“What’s got your brows so tight?” Iago asked.
“Nothing, just thinking.” He looked Iago over, noticed the man had bags under his eyes, and wondered if he’d spent the past two days at his bedside. “How’d you know I was awake?”
“I didn’t. I was coming to relieve Marco and Tallen. Everyone’s been taking turns keeping watch over you.” Looking around, Othello noticed the two men had slipped out while he was distracted by the doctor and Iago arriving.
“I appreciate it, but I didn’t need twenty-four-hour guards.”
“You’re the successor of the clan, Othello. Did you expect the don to leave you unprotected? You know, since the day we ran our game on him, he hasn’t gone anywhere without his guards. So, do you think he would let you be unprotected?”
Othello didn’t respond to that statement when he had nothing to back it up; instead, he changed the subject. “Funny you should mention what we did. I was thinking about the first time we met Don Alessandro.”
That brought a smile to Iago’s lips. “How can I forget, but what brought that on?”
“I don’t know. I woke up, and it was my first thought.”
“Please don’t tell me you’re regretting things since you almost died.” Iago sat in the chair beside the bed.
“Nah. I just recalled that it was the first time in my life I’d ever been scared.”
“Lies,” Iago said. “You almost pissed your pants when he walked in the front door of the group home.
“Maybe,” Othello said through a yawn, feeling sleepy. “I’m going to take a nap. You should go home to Emilia. Did you forget she’s pregnant? She might be a few weeks along, but she needs you more right now. So stay the fuck out of trouble while I’m in here.”
“Why do you sound like the big brother instead of the little one? Don’t worry, Emilia is fine. She yelled and me this morning and told me I was nagging the fuck out of her and to go do something with myself.”
Othello smirked. “I knew there was a reason I liked her.” Emilia Bellini, Iago’s girlfriend of five years, was a junior partner for a well-named public relations firm. She’d stuck by his brother, who cheated on her a bunch of times when other women or men would have dropped his ass a long time ago.
Othello loved his brother and trusted him with his life, but the man was a bastard to the woman who loved him. Othello wasn't sure why Emilia had stayed with him for so long when he took her love for granted. Emilia had lost her parents a few years before she met Iago and wasn't close to her remaining family members, so Othello was always encouraging his brother to cherish the woman he claimed to love.
“If I leave, who’s…”
“Go, Iago. I’m not dying anymore. It’s creepy having someone watch me while I sleep.”
Iago huffed and stood. “Stubborn bastard.” He fixed his suit and walked to the door but stopped when Othello spoke.
“Do you regret it?”
“No,” Iago answered, knowing what Othello was talking about. “It’s where I belong.”
