Page 103 of The Doctor

“I love you too.”

All the love in the world couldn’t right what had happened tonight. From the gash across Zee’s face, to the matching one on Arik’s cheek, to the bruises and blood covering my father’s face and chest.

From Mario’s bullet wound to the dead bodies of his mother, his brothers, and the man who had raised him as his own.

As much as I wanted to stay there in Zeno’s arms, there was too much to do. Too many things that needed to be done.

With one last kiss, I rose from Zeno’s side and caught Jet by the arm. “I left my bag in the back. It has medical supplies, and I’m going to need them if I’m going to help Mario.”

Jet’s silver gaze zipped over me before his head dipped in a nod. “Lev, help Clara with whatever she needs. I’ve got a bag to go find.”

The man disappeared, and Lev and one of the other men rushed around, finding towels and water, finding a light and alcohol, and everything else Zee and I told them we needed.

Zee talked me through each step of the way, cleaning Mario’s wound, stitching up both the front and the back where the bullet went through, bandaging him and making a sling out of the torn-up pieces of one of Cosimo’s suits until we could find a better solution.

After, I cleaned Zeno’s wounds, stitching the gash across his temple before moving on to Arik and doing the same to his cheek. When I was done, when I turned to my father to assess his wounds, I found a teary-eyed gaze looking back at me.

“Clara.” My father took my hands in his, his bottom lip trembling and the tears flooding his eyes until they dripped down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay.” He squeezed my hands. “I haven’t been a good father to you. I haven’t been there for you the way I should have been. I pushed you off on Zeno, and then got upset when you found in him what you’ve needed all along. Nothing I can say will ever make up for that, I know. But I pray, someday, you’ll be able to forgive me. I pray you’ll let me try to be the father I should have been.”

I clamped my bottom lip between my teeth to keep it from trembling. But my own tears fell when my father pulled me into his arms, his body flinching when my shoulder touched his bruised chest.

“I love you, Clara,” he murmured against my head. “I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.”

Swallowing hard, I pulled out of his grip, then gave him a shaky smile. “Thank you.” I looked down at my hands, at the roll of bandages I still held. “Can I check you over?”

He nodded, choking back a cry. “I’d be honored.”

He was right, of course. Nothing he could say would make up for the way he’d treated me in the past. But if he was willing to make an effort, if he could prove to me that he could actually try, then I was willing to try too.

Zeno would help me through it. With him by my side, I could do anything.

36

Zeno

Clara paced the small patch of floor where she’d saved my life, her bare feet padding lightly against the cold concrete while her heels dangled from her fingertips. I wanted to go to her, to hold her and comfort her. But she’d brushed me off in favor of her frantic pacing the minute Jet started debriefing us.

“So he just dropped you off at the back and drove away?”

For one split second, Clara paused, as if Jet’s question was enough to make it through the turbulence raging inside her. Then she was back to her pacing, talking as she did. “Yes, I already told you that. He said I was a distraction, and he had things he needed to do.”

A distraction. Fucking hell. Wasn’t that the truth…

“What did he need to do?”

This time, when Clara paused, she turned a look Jet’s way. A look that said all the things that she kept from dropping from the tip of her tongue. One of her eyebrows inched up as she raised a hand toward the front door.

“Right.” Looking thoroughly chastised, Jet wiped a hand down his face.

He’d just told us what they’d been greeted with when they arrived. The dead bodies of all but two of Cosimo’s men were scattered across the parking lot out front. Jet had only added a single body to the count—that of Manilo, who Cosimo had sent to see what the noise was when Jet and his crew had arrived.

Scotty Nazario shook his head. “I don’t understand how he was able to take down a dozen of Cosimo’s closest men and stroll in here like he was unaffected.”

“They trusted him.” Berto hunched over, like simply saying those words hurt his cracked ribs. He sucked in a slow breath. “Cosimo had a setup with Stephano to sell his guns out of the back of Club Sentinel. My son was here a lot, working out logistics and things like that.”