Page 81 of Body of Trust

“Last I checked, I took a bullet for you. If you really loved me, you would have done the same.”

Enzo laughs as Jesse shakes his head with a smile.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Amelia Sorrentino,” he jokes.

I scoot up to him, laying my good side onto his chest. “No way. You’re living forever. I have a lot of plans for us.”

His chest rumbles as his hand comes down onto my arm, holding me gently.

“One day at a time,” he whispers.

As I close my eyes, I wonder what the future will look like for me and Jesse. Today, I get to keep him. Tomorrow might not be the same.

Chapter Twenty-One

Jesse

“You’re lucky you didn’t puncture an organ,” the doctor says as he finishes the exam.

A broken rib, nose, some damage to my cornea, and a shit-ton of bruising, but thankfully, no internal bleeding.

“Good thing the guy with the bat had a shitty swing,” I joke, but he doesn’t find this amusing.

“Here’s a prescription for—”

“No, thanks, Doc.” I push the prescription for painkillers away. “I don’t believe in the stuff, and I don’t need it.” As I grimace in pain, my body contradicts my words.

“You sure about that?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

I wince through my teeth. “Nothing an ice bath and bourbon can’t fix.” I slide my shirt back on my body. “We done here?”

“You’re good. Please give Mr. Evangelista my regards.”

I nod, finding it crazy that I’m having a visit from the “family” doctor. Enzo brought me straight home, and within an hour, Dr. Paul Fisco was at my door.

“When can I see Amelia?” I ask him, hating that we’ve been separated.

“When I left her father’s house, she was falling asleep. It was a flesh wound and will heal nicely. She’s in better shape than you are.”

“Thank God for that. Have a good day, Doc.” I let him out and lock the door behind me, noting that he left the prescription on the table. I tear it up and toss the paper in the trash.

In the seven years I’ve been in law enforcement, I’ve witnessed too many good men fall apart with drugs. It can start as simple as a bottle to dull the pain of a few broken bones. Next thing you know, you’re immune to their potency and looking for something stronger.

I lift the bottle of bourbon from the coffee table, twist the cap, and take a drink. Today was fucked up. I still have to call the bureau and give my statement. I should have done that as soon as I got home, but I need to get my head straight.

When I came on this job, it was to get in good with Evangelista and Sorrentino enough to gather evidence into the bid rigging that was going on in the tristate area. The case kept getting bigger and bigger, and while it feels like it’s over, it’s not.

I still have to turn in Frank Evangelista and Raphael Sorrentino.

She’s going to hate me.

The next drink I take is a double. I slam the bottle on the table and curse myself for getting into this mess.

For the first time in my life, I have something I don’t want to walk away from. But as far as I can see, there’s no way I can stay.

Growing up, I was the star of the town. A high school football star who could drink at fifteen because I knew how to catch a thirty-yard toss into the end zone. My friends and I stole from the drugstore, sped down Main Street, and started fires on abandoned lots. The cops always looked the other way. My grades were shit. My mother was on me to do better, but I didn’t have to. The teachers were gonna pass me, so I could play.

I was on top of the world.