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She opens an eye to peek at me. “Nothing that I can’t handle.”
My stomach sinks. Gia’s kneecap shattered about three years ago when someone shot her in the leg.
She went through several reconstructive surgeries, and most of her kneecap is artificial. It does not often bother her, unless something tugs at the scarring around it.
Such as an injury from falling, or over-use.
I whip out my phone. “I’m certain the doctor can be here presently,” I say, tapping my screen angrily.
Gia mutters. “I’m fine, Elio. Really.”
“What the hell happened?” I rumble. I am not convinced, and the doctor will arrive within the hour to give Gia a full examination.
“The Irish are really, really mad at you.”
That makes me pause. I put down the phone and glance at Caterina.
Her eyes look like saucers.
I know that I should dismiss her. She has no place in this conversation, and more than that, she could take this information and use it against me. I’m putting myself, and my company, all of my people, at risk by having her here for this conversation.
I glance at Gia. “Should we continue this in my office?”
She shakes her head. “No. Caterina needs to hear.”
“Gia, if you need me to go?—”
“I said no, Caterina,” Gia repeats firmly. In her tone there’s a hint of the command that she so effortlessly wields as the second-in command for our organization, and Caterina stills.
“Gia,” I repeat softly. “What, exactly happened.”
“The Irish are really upset with you. I was coming back from Marseilles, on the train, when three of them popped up on the Amtrak. We fought with them, ended up taking one hostage. We got some information out of him in the forest outside of Genoa. There’s a body there, but I asked Lorenzo to take care of it, and I have a bad feeling he set those goddamn wolves on it,” Gia grimaces.
I wince as well. Lorenzo isn’t exactly involved, but neither is he a civilian. He was a special forces operator for quite a long time, and we often call him in to help when a task needs a certain amount of expertise or finesse.
He also runs a rehabilitation center for wolves. There are no wild wolves in Italy, but Lorenzo’s estate is large enough that he raises them and lets them run wild. Those that cannot be wild he keeps as pets.
Pets being the loosest definition of the word.
“What was his fee?”
“Paid. He owed me a favor,” she winces again.
I blink. “Gia, you did not tell me that Lorenzo Ferrano owed you a favor.”
“You don’t need to know everything, Elio,” she sighs.
Caterina puts a hand on Gia’s arm. “You said, ‘we’. Who were you with?”
Gia looks to me. She looks at Caterina. “Both of you have to promise not to freak out.”
“Gia,” I growl.
“Promise me, Elio,” she snaps.
“I promise,” Caterina responds automatically.
They both stare at me expectantly. “Fine. I also promise,” I grumble.
