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Chapter Twenty-Four - Delilah
“Visiting this house is starting to become a habit.” Doctor Lewis chuckles while finishing getting his things together. “Taking care of this family keeps me busier than I was when I had my practice.”
The house looks a lot like what I would imagine a hospital looking like in the middle of a war zone. Five of the bedrooms hold wounded men, including the room that’s been mine since I got here. Jock’s in there now instead of staying in his room on the other side of the house. It makes more sense to keep everybody close together in case he calls out for help and nobody is nearby to hear him.
But they’re all okay. Even Scott, who’s laid up in the other guest room on this side of the house. He came very close to bleeding to death in Luca’s study. He earned himself a nice, long vacation while he heals up.
From where I sit at Luca’s bedside, I hear all the commotion going on downstairs as the rest of the guys clean up the mess. I don’t want to know what they did with the bodies—I’m sure they know what they’re doing when it comes to that kind of thing. I don’t need to hear the specifics.
“He’s going to be alright, though?” I hate how pale he looks, almost chalky. He’s lying so still, too, almost like a corpse. I think I could be forgiven for being a little morbid after all this.
“He’ll be just fine. A day or two of rest, and of course he’ll have to be careful with that arm of his so as to not tear the stitches. But these Brunos are made of steel. And from what I understand, there was some degree of luck involved.”
“That’s true. If it hadn’t been for Vincent moving at the last second, he would’ve gotten much worse than a graze wound.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He offers one of his grandfatherly smiles before heading for the door. “This one was in and out as I was working on him, removing the bullet. If it wasn’t for you screaming when you did, he wouldn’t be alive right now. He wasn’t sure whether he should be grateful, or angry at you for putting yourself in harm’s way.”
“To me, there wasn’t even a choice to be made. I had to do it.” We exchange a little smile before he goes out to the hall. I hear him checking in on Jock one last time before he goes.
I haven’t even taken a shower yet. I’m still filthy, and no matter how many times I wash my hands there’s still blood under my nails. I need a long soak in the tub.
But what I need more is for Luca to wake up. It’s not enough to hear him breathing. I need to know he’s alright, that he’s still the same Luca he was before. And I need to tell him everything I wanted to say downstairs, before he lost consciousness. I was too panicked, worrying he was dying in front of me.
“How is he?”
I’m shocked to find Jock limping into the room. He didn’t break anything when he fell down the stairs, but he sprained one knee and both wrists on the way. “You should be in bed.”
“Says who?” he grumbles. He’s wearing pajamas. I’ve never seen him in anything but a suit. It’s like seeing Santa Claus in a negligée.
“The doctor, for starters?”
“What does he know? If he was so good at his job, he’d still have his license.”
I can’t give him too hard a time about this. It’s obvious he’s worried about Luca. “He’ll be okay. He just has to take it easy for a little while, the way you do.”
“If it hadn’t been for you…” He sits at the foot of the bed, opposite where I’m seated. “This could have gone very differently.”
“I didn’t do anything but scream. The rest was luck.” And now that the danger has passed, I ask, “What happened at the meeting? How did it end up this way?”
He fills me in on everything, right down to Bernardi callously ordering his son’s assassination. “I think this was always the plan. Luca figured it out before I did on the way out of the warehouse. Dante wanted Luca away from the house—and I’m sure the plan was to murder him at the warehouse, anyway. Bernardi must truly think we’re a bunch of amateurs around here. Like we didn’t go in there expecting the worst.”
“I’m so glad you did.”
“For the record, so am I.”
“So what do you think happens now? I mean, obviously, he has no intention of backing down.”
His smile is grim. “Something tells me that before very long, Dante Bernardi is going to regret making this move.
“What makes you say that?”
“My phone has been ringing nonstop all night, at all hours. Word’s spreading, and nobody is happy about this. Giordano, Donatelli, Morelli—everybody is behind us. Bernardi bit off a lot more than he could chew.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” Though it’s not exactly enough to let me breathe easier. Not yet.
“It should lower the heat a lot. We’ll find out more in the next week or two, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he runs away with his tail tucked between his legs.” The thing is, I don’t think he believes himself. There’s a good chance he’s saying all this for my benefit.
But I don’t have it in me to call him on it, either. He’s just trying to be kind. He might also be trying to comfort himself, too. I don’t know what it’s like to have the kind of night he did, but I can imagine needing a little comfort afterward.
