I swallow hard and look back down at the wound, stitching faster now, because if I meet his gaze again, I might forget where I am.
When the wound has been fully closed—temporarily, at least—I sit back on my heels and pack everything back into the box.
“I’ll take that,” Brando says, getting to his feet. “The doc’s out front. I’ll be right back.”
He shoots me what looks like a warning glare and stalks away, leaving me and Fiero alone, surrounded by dead bodies, broken glass, upended tables, and blood.
My fingers entwine in my lap. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “That was all my fault.”
His gaze pierces my skin. “What the fuck?”
Nerves make my shoulders tremble. When he finds out the truth, he might just kill me.
“I may have given the Irishman the wrong idea,” I say quietly. “It wasn’t my intention to. I just spoke to him like I would with any guest, but it didn’t seem enough.” I continue to stare down at my hands. “He asked me to sit with him and I said no?—”
A rough hand covers both of mine easily. “Pfeiffer, it wasn’t your fault that I got shot. He was going to take you. There’s no way I’d have allowed that to happen.”
My lashes lift. “I don’t understand,” I say with a frown. “Why would he takeme?”
He breathes out, eyes roaming my face. “I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
I glance down at my shivering hands now toasty and warm inside his. “You saved me,” I whisper.
He gives my fingers a light squeeze. “You saved me.”
A glow passes through my chest, filling and warming every corner.
I take in the stitches, noticing now how rushed they look. “I just did what I would do for any patient.”
It’s the truth, but not the whole truth. The full, uncensored version is that I cared just then more than I’ve ever cared for a patient in the hospital. The brazen reality is that if Fiero hadn’tpulled through, I’d have a target on my back, and in a weird, inexplicable way, I’m not ready to say goodbye to him.
It doesn’t make any sense. This man ispayingfor me. He’s using me for kicks while punishing me for something my pathetic uncle did. Why would I be concerned if he suddenly dropped dead?
My chest contracts. Because there’s more to this than a debt payment. There’s chemistry. Stupid, raw, combustible chemistry. And feelings too familiar to dismiss as a coincidence. Fiero and me… we have a connection I don’t think either of us expected, and while I don’t mind it, he seems to be battling it from the trenches.
The soft silence is broken by the entrance of Brando and his two other brothers, still masked, and a shorter man wearing round spectacles and carrying a doctor’s bag.
I stand, letting my fingers slip from Fiero’s, and wait for the doctor’s verdict. He gives Fiero a onceover then nods in my direction.
“Good job. I’ll take it from here.”
My voice is small. I don’t want to leave him. “Okay. Thank you.”
“Go home, Pfeiffer,” says one of the two masked brothers. “We’ll be in touch.”
My heart plummets.
“But… my next shift is tomor?—”
“The club is closed,” he snaps, cutting me off.
My spine stiffens. Why does it feel like this might be the end?
I can sense Fiero watching me but I don’t return his gaze. I’m getting bad vibes from each of his brothers. It’s probably safest if I just leave.
“Okay, well. Good night.”
Then I turn and walk away, feeling strangely hollow, like I might just have left a small part of myself on the carpet.
