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“Oh, shit! Boss, are you okay?” Max appears over Nico’s shoulder, dragging his body off me. The moment he’s gone, my lungs begin to function again. Until I scan his face laying on the concrete beside me, searching for those blazing blue eyes and find them closed.
“Nico?”
A trickle of blood seeps from his earlobe, and panic strips me of all senses. I try to sit up, but my head spins and nausea crawls up my throat. Oh, no, please not now. I buckle over despite my pleas, and my measly lunch spews out.
Wiping the saliva from my chin with the back of my palm, I lean against the car as sirens start to wail in the background.
“Shit, we have to get out of here.” Max’s voice echoes somewhere behind me, but I’m too out of it to turn my head in the right direction. “Boss, wake up, boss!”
I hold my breath, praying to every single deity there ever was that Nico answers. Please be okay, please be okay. This time someone answers my prayers.
“Maisy…” His voice is faint, but it’s there. He’s okay. My head falls back against the cold metal of the car. “Get Maisy first.” It’s a little stronger this time, a hint of the domineering mob boss flitting to the surface, and a rueful smile parts my lips.
Max appears in front of me and hauls me up, his big arms curling under my armpits. Man, I hope I don’t smell bad. After all day at work, I can’t be as fresh as a daisy. An insane giggle tumbles out, and now I’m worried I hit my head harder than I thought. My hand moves to the back of my skull and my fingers come back wet and sticky.
“Oh, shit, boss,” Max hisses when his darting eyes lock on my bloody fingers as he carries me to the back seat.
I catch a quick glance at Nico sprawled across the dark leather before the edges of my vision grow blurry.
“Maisy, you’re going to be all right. Just hold on.”
My head dips slowly but even that faint movement turns the backseat of the car topsy turvy.
“Call Dr. Pacetti and tell him to meet us at the penthouse immediately,” Nico barks. Or at least I think that’s how it’s supposed to sound like. To me it sounds all slow and muffled, like I’m at the fun house of an amusement park.
A strong arm wraps around my shoulders, and I sink into a familiar scent. I’m so sleepy. My lids droop, and it takes everything I have to keep them open. I’m vaguely certain I’m not supposed to sleep.
“Maisy, you must stay awake.” Nico slaps my cheek, a bit harder than necessary if you ask me.
“Ow!” I squeal. “I just want to close my eyes for a second.”
“You can’t!” The fear in his voice momentarily snaps my lids wide open.
“Okay, I’ll try.”
“You can do it, little fox. Just stay with me.” Warm breath spills across my hair, and soft lips press against my forehead. I must be severely concussed because why else would the brutal Nico Rossi be gently kissing me?
The back seat begins to blur, the black of the leather upholstery melding with the darkness creeping in.
“Maisy!”
That deep voice anchors me to the present for an instant longer before the tide of oblivion washes over me, and I’m lost.
“Why the fuck isn’t she awake yet?” That familiar furious tone seeps through the thick haze clouding my mind.
“I already told you, Mr. Rossi, head injuries are tricky.” A male voice, one I’ve never heard before. “The girl should be in the hospital. I did what I could here but without an MRI there is no telling how substantial her injuries are.”
I try to fight my way back to consciousness, but waves of exhaustion drag me under again and again. A minute passes or maybe an hour. I’m in and out, amidst a confusion of frantic voices and vague consciousness.
“Cazzo.” That familiar growl summons me to the surface. Heavy footfalls echo around me as if a lion with designer loafers is prowling around my bed. Another inappropriate giggle bubbles to the surface at the visual. Yup, I definitely have a traumatic brain injury. “Fuck it, I’ll take her to the hospital.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Another male voice I don’t recognize. “You can’t do that, boss. They’ll ask questions, and they’ll end up placing you at the blast site. It won’t be good for business.”
“You think I haven’t thought of that shit, Jimmy?” Nico hisses.
“Then why would you risk it?”
Another string of Italian I can’t make out muddled with curses I do recognize pours out, and now I wish I would’ve paid more attention in Latin class back in high school. Mother always said it would be invaluable. How could a dead language be worth anything? Now I know.
