Page 254 of Ricardo

But he is alive.

He made it through surgery.

The sentence has been repeating in my head since the doctor said it.

He is alive.

My son is alive.

Now someone has to answer for the fact that he almost was not.

Julia stands beside me, quiet. My jacket is still around her shoulders. Her face is washed clean, but her eyes are swollen, and there is a hollowed-out look to her that makes me want to take her home, bundle her up, and put her into bed. Keep her somewhere safe until she can sleep without fear.

But safety will mean nothing while Harrison Winthrop breathes comfortably.

Mario watches me from across the waiting room.

He knows.

He knew me when I was a boy in Naples and learned too early that certain debts are paid with blood. He knew me when I became a father before I became a man. He knew me when I had to choose between grief and rage so often that rage became easier because at least it gave my hands something to do.

He knows exactly what is moving through me now.

So does Julia.

Her hand touches my wrist.

“Ricardo.”

I look at her.

Her voice is soft, but her eyes are clear. Too clear for a woman who should be sleeping, shaking, crying, doing anything except trying to save me from myself.

“Whatever you’re thinking,” she says, “you have to be careful.”

I lift my hand to her cheek. “Don't you worry about that.”

“I'm serious,” she says. “Harrison isn’t just anybody.”

“No,” I say. “He is the man who did this.”

“He’s a Winthrop.”

“I'm aware.”

“But you're not thinking rationally,” she says. “You're thinking of going after the man who shot your son. But he's not just anyone. The Winthrops are political royalty. Harrison’s father was a senator. Now he’s a top aide to the president. His grandfather was vice president. Their family has judges, donors, governors, ambassadors. They’re one step down from the Kennedys.”

The waiting room is silent around us.

“If you go at Harrison, you might end up paying for it.” She swallows. “You think Dante didn't want to?”

My gaze sharpens at his name.

“The night he came to get me in Connecticut, he wanted to do exactly what you're thinking of. But I convinced him not to.”

“Maybe that was a mistake.”

Immediately there's hurt in her eyes, and I regret my words.