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He reaches out to touch my face with his good arm, just staring at me for a long minute, thumb caressing my cheek. And I realize I’m doing the same. Staring at him. He blinks, slides his hand to my neck, my arm. He looks me over. “The blood—”
“It’s not mine. I’m not hurt,” I say quickly.
He nods, looks relieved.
From beside him I see Dante’s expression harden in my periphery.
Cristiano grits his teeth, and I can tell he’s in tremendous pain. His face drains of color and he closes his hand over my shoulder. In the next moment, I feel his weight.
“Help!” I cry out as he stumbles into me. I reach out to catch him as if I could keep him upright.
Dante grabs hold of him.
“I’m fine,” Cristiano grits out, straightening, shoving Dante off. His face contorts as he manages the pain.
“Cristiano!” It’s Lenore. She rushes toward him from the top of the stairs, looks him over and then over to Antonio. “Get him to his room. Doctor Marino is waiting.”
I’m forgotten in the chaos and watch them go, watch more men shuffle down from the roof. They all look like they’ve been through a war.
“Come on,” Alec says to me.
I turn to find him waiting at the door we just came through. I nod and follow him back down to Cristiano’s bedroom where I watch Antonio and Dante ease him onto the bed. The doctor who’d come earlier tears Cristiano’s shirt open.
“Get the dog out,” Dante orders. “And the girl.”
“I’m staying.”
“Get her out,” he tells Alec.
“She stays,” Cristiano says, voice low, but the authority in it no different than if he had roared.
I raise my chin, give Dante a defiant look before nearing the bed to see the damage.
The doctor brings a needle toward Cristiano’s arm.
“No,” Cristiano says, giving a shake of his head.
“For the pain.”
“No. Get the bullet out. Sew me up. I need to get up.”
“I also need to reset your shoulder. Again. You’re not getting up,” the doctor says, putting the needle away, muttering something about how he’s always been stubborn.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s the adrenaline leaving my system. Cristiano meets my eyes and opens the palm of his good hand.
“Come here.”
I go to him. He looks me over while I watch the doctor cut away what’s left of his other sleeve. He’s bleeding from his side and his arm lays at a strange angle.
“Why didn’t you clean up?” Cristiano asks me.
I look down at myself. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll reset your shoulder first. It’s going to hurt but maybe it’ll teach you a lesson,” the doctor says. “Although I doubt it.”
Cristiano smiles and I wonder how much effort it takes him to do that. “For what I pay you, you could pretend to be nice.”
“You should pay me double for the number of times I’ve sewn you back together for Christ’s sake.”
The doctor looks at me, gives me an expression as if asking if I’m ready.
I bend down, turn Cristiano’s face to mine. “You’re going to look like Frankenstein soon.”
Cristiano grins, opens his mouth to say something and I know the instant the doctor slips his shoulder back into place. I see it on Cristiano’s face, see it in how he grits his teeth and hear it in the curse he mutters sending the doctor straight to hell.
“There,” the doctor says.
Cristiano turns to him. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to do it,” he teases. I have no idea how he has the energy. He looks half-dead.
“I’ve had to reset this shoulder what, three times now?” The doctor tells me, that last part directed to Cristiano.
“Four. You’re getting old.” Cristiano’s eyes flutter closed.
“What’s happening?” I ask, panicked.
“Shock. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’s healthy as that monster dog he’s got out there.”
As if Cerberus has heard and understood, he howls from out in the hallway.
“I need to get the bullet out and clean him up, see what else I need to sew back together. You can go get some rest.” He looks me over. “Shower first, maybe.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Go,” Dante says to me and I wonder where he was. He’s the only one who doesn’t look like he’s come from battle. “I’ll stay with him until the doctor finishes.”
“I can—”
“Just go, Scarlett,” he grits out. The way he says my name, it’s not as hateful as when we’ve talked before. “I’ll stay with my brother.” No, not hateful. He sounds defeated.
I rub my face, nod, and walk out of the bedroom to find Alec in his chair and Cerberus anxiously half-sitting staring at the door.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell them both, petting Cerberus.
Alec nods, relieved.
“Was it Rinaldi?” I ask him. Or the cartel. I don’t ask that part.
“Not sure.” But I get the feeling he knows something.
“I’m going to shower. I’m just in here.” I point to Elizabeth’s room. “I promise not to go anywhere so just get some rest or something. You look like shit, Alec.”
