Page 5 of Antonio Miles

It should have surprised me that the Miles family had a private hospital wing, but it really didn’t. I was beginning to think the man was richer than God. Which hit a little too close to home. I’d been sold to another man who’d been richer than God. The pattern wasn’t a comfortable one.

“Is someone coming for Gunnar?” I could see the devastation on Pippa’s face.

“Yeah, honey.” Knuckles, Pippa’s father and the president of Kiss of Death, knelt with his daughter to gently keep her out of the way while Pain and Nadine worked on Gunnar. He’d yet to speak but had nodded or shaken his head at questions Pain asked him.

“Gunnar. Please. Please look at me.”

Pippa’s worry and desperation hit me like a physical thing. Raw, stripped of everything except need. Gunnar had gone still again, his eyes closed, but his chest still rose and fell regularly, if a bit shallow. Men had somehow managed to get the beam off Gunnar and pulled him clear, but it was obvious he wasn’t out of danger.

Antonio knelt next to Gunnar on the opposite side from Pippa. “I’ve got a surgeon waiting on him,” Antonio said quietly. “I have a private ambulance on the way to take him to Vanderbilt. They will take him straight to surgery.” Pippa nodded without seeming to hear him.

Melanie reached out and rested her hand on mine, diverting my attention. She seemed to have pulled herself out of her panic. I knew how she felt. If I hadn’t had her to focus on, I doubt I’d have made it as far as I had without crawling into a tiny space to hide for a week.

“The children,” she said. Her voice was thin but steady. “Are the children safe?”

“They’re upstairs,” I told her. “In the other safe room. I saw them go in with Tiny and the men with him.”

She closed her eyes. “Good. That’s good.”

As she spoke, an ambulance crew hurried in, flanked by several of Nashville’s finest out of uniform. I recognized most of them as belonging to Antonio.

As I watched in silence, Tonio stood in the shadows out of the way and unobtrusive. But I felt his gaze focused directly on me. We stared at each other, neither willing to look away first.

The medics worked fast, sliding a board under Gunnar and strapping him down while Pippa clung to his hand. I saw Gunnar squeeze her hand and open his eyes once. He said something to her before the medics raised the stretcher to take him outside. Knuckles had to pry her fingers loose so they could leave with him, and she made that low and broken sound like a pained animal.

They hurried Gunnar through the ruined doorway into the night. Pippa stumbled after them. Knuckles went with her, his arm around her shoulders.

Melanie’s hand tightened on mine. I helped her up, and one of the suited men appeared at my elbow. He spoke softly to Melanie and reached out a hand for her to take. Surprisingly, she did. I watched him lead her toward the front, to whatever transport waited, and I should have followed. I knew I should have followed. But I couldn’t move with Antonio still looking at me.

He crossed the distance between us again. He stopped close enough that I had to tilt my head to hold his gaze, even after I stood.

“You went toward the fighting,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“I had to make sure anyone downstairs was safe. There are always people down here.”

“There were.” His expression was unreadable. “That cut at your hairline needs attention.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

“I didn’t ask how deep it was.” He lifted his hand and touched two fingers just below the matted blood at my temple. “I told you to let someone look at it.”

“You came for me,” I said. “Not Haven or anyone else here. Me. I saw it on your men’s faces when they found Melanie and me. I want to know why.”

For a long moment he said nothing. Then he opened his mouth as if to speak but didn’t. Finally, he lifted his chin. He should have looked arrogant, but the gesture came across as stubborn. When he spoke next, his answer wasn’t at all reassuring.

“When I figure it out, I’ll let you know.”

Chapter Two

Antonio

The smoke had thinned enough to see the extent of the damage. I stood with Tessa’s question still hanging between us, and I did what I always did in the wake of violence. I surveyed the damage and planned for the future.

The common room was gutted. The couch lay on its side, stuffing bleeding through a rip in the leather. The coffee table had split down the middle. Glass dusted every surface, catching the light from the emergency lamps my men had rigged along the walls. Blood streaked the hardwood in a long smear, and I thought it might be Gunnar’s.

My men worked with the quiet efficiency of people who had done this before. Two carried a body wrapped in a black tarp between them, boots crunching through debris.

Across the room, Knuckles hovered near his daughter. Pippa had slid to the floor, her back against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. Her face was buried in her knees as she sobbed. Knuckles laid one hand on her shoulder. The other hung at his side in a fist so tight the skin of his hand blanched white. He watched the room, and the stillness in him was worse than any rage I had ever seen.