AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Nico, what’s wrong?” Dad responds. I can hear him moving, much like Wylder and I are, barreling into his private elevator. The guard that was assigned to me is right beside us.
“I have no idea. Enzo called. I could barely understand his rambling except that he’s down and so is Journey. He shot Petrov. As soon as I’m in the car, I’ll pull up the security feeds. Assume the worst and come in ready for war,” I tell him.
“I’m there. You get here in one piece. Journey’s a tough cookie. Keep your head clear and don’t go out half-cocked.” The click of the phone is the last thing I hear. My father may be right, but when it comes to my wife, I’ll go to the ends of this earth to make sure she’s breathing safely right beside me. Especially after today, the woman won’t be leaving my sight, much less further away where I can’t touch her.
“You got a spare gun in your SUV?” Wylder asks. He’s not one to get his hands dirty himself, preferring to stay as clean as he can even with the money laundering business we run through his hotel to pay us back. The less he knows, the better. That’s why when we gave him the opportunity to keep going after the allotted years are done, he didn’t give us an answer on the spot.
“Yeah.” I nod as I pull up the app on my phone that logs me into the security cameras. The live feed shows me the gate is blown wide open, a guard is down, blood pouring from his body, a car is sitting in the driveway, doors wide open, and two men are shot in the front of the car. Three of my guys are down, but there’s no blood where I can see.
“Son of a bitch. I can’t see Journey anywhere,” I mutter as we make it to the parking garage.
“Fuck, I’m driving. Give me your keys,” Wylder states.
“No can do, Mr. Hayes. I’ll be driving,” Gio states. He already has the keys because of this ridiculous shit of needing him with me at all time. Regret sits deep in my gut, thinking that I should have kept my ass at home today or added more men, going as far as thinking about having Papà stay with her at home. Petrov wouldn’t have made it out of his car with him there.
“Fucking hurry up, then,” Wylder growls as he slides into the backseat. I’m up front, slamming my door, and Gio is reversing out of the parking spot with a squeal of the tires. Meanwhile, I’m pulling my gun out, eject the magazine, see it’s fully loaded with bullets, reinsert it until I hear the click, and use the palm of my hand to pull the slide until a round is in the chamber. Once that’s done, I reach into the glove compartment, repeat the process, and then hand the gun to Wylder.
“Safety is on.” The rest of the way to the house, my leg is bouncing non-stop, no one is talking, and my mind is completely focused on Journey, as well as killing the Russian fuck who is a pussy going after a woman.Mywoman.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Journey
I can’t saythat I’ve ever woken up in a hospital before. Well, I take that back. One time, when I was seven years old, I broke my arm. They had to reset it with pins because I couldn’t quit screwing around after it was first set with a cast. I was too busy doing tom-girl stuff, going swimming after promising to keep it out of the water when that didn’t happen. Coming home in a waterlogged cast didn’t help. Mom would look at me and shake her head. Dad would tote me back to the doctor. They’d redo the cast, and then there I went, using it as a weapon instead of staying calm and allowing my body to heal. It was fun at the time, not so fun when the doctor said I’d need surgery. Then it sucked even worse when I was wheeled away from my parents and brother by the doctor as well as a nurse, into surgery. I remember my mom bawling, reaching for me, my dad holding on to her and my brother both. The worry was real for her like any other parent, but I came out completely okay, asking for popsicles because my throat was sore. After that, I let myself heal and didn’t horse around. The summer sucked, but I behaved after my brother sat me down and told me I’d fucked around enough, that if I had just done as I was told, I’d have been healed already. Of course, it was a lot easier back then. I surely don’t remember being this cold, the constant beeping or the raging pounding going on in my head.
“Why the hell am I in the hospital? And can I please get another blanket?” My voice croaks as I open my eyes. The lights are brighter than necessary. I’m trying not to move my head, the pain that intense. It’s ten time worse than the hangover I had on my twenty-first birthday, that’s for sure, which says a lot because I was hovering over a toilet and falling asleep on the cool tile floor. It was probably the only time I was raging hot as I slept after drinking all the syringe-looking shots given to me, followed by beer, and then mixed that with Malibu Rum and Coke. Yeah, it was horrible. Needless to say, I don’t drink those concoctions anymore.
“Shhh, go back to sleep, mia figlia,” Nico’s mom says. Her movement alerts my parents that I’m awake. Both are fast on their feet and head towards the hospital bed, which isn’t hard to do considering this place is the size of a postage stamp.
“Wylder just stepped out to grab you another blanket. That son of mine called him three times, telling him to make sure you’re warm,” my mom says.
“Nico will be back soon.” I must look confused as to why Nico isn’t here when his mom tells me without telling me what’s going on when she gives me the look that says, “You don’t question anything right now and let him take care of things.”
“Thank God, you’re okay,” Mom says. Dad places his hands on my feet, not needing to say a word, just keeping me warm in the best way possible. He is not a man of many words, so much like Wylder in that aspect.
“I am really tired and feel like if I make any movements, my limbs will fail me.” Explaining that out loud sounds silly, but it’s the only way I can describe it.
“A cop will be in soon. You need to tell them that you don’t remember a thing, okay, mi figlia?” Mrs. Donotello states. I nod my head. My parents, having known the Donotellos all of Wylder and Nico’s life, don’t interject.
The whole reason Nico and I were married as fast as we were is because of scenarios much like this. Well, not me in a hospital bed and him out taking care of business. He prepared me, told me never to talk to a cop unless my lawyer was present, one he would always provide for me. I’m not privy to all the inner workings of how the business works, and that’s okay with me. The less I know, the better. I’m there for him when he needs to unwind, talk when he has something to get off his chest. At least I am now. There was a time I’d have been shout out from everything, but things have changed for the better. I don’t think we thought it would come to me landing in a hospital. I realize that whatever I was shot with was something like a tranquilizer dart that paralyzes your body. Thankfully, my body shut down, and I pretty much slept through whatever happened after, so it’s not like I can tell the cops what they want to know anyway.
“Seems Sleeping Beauty finally made her grand appearance.” My husband. It still gives me butterflies to think of Nico as my own. He’s not here but called Wylde to make sure I had extra blankets. It shows how much he cares, even from afar.
“Oh God, that feels so good.” The blankets are warm. The heat along with the heaviness has me drowsy once again. “I think I’m going to rest my eyes now.” Soft chuckles are the last thing I hear. The drugs are clearly still in my system because right before I fall asleep, Nico’s voice is husky in my ear as he says, “Non posso vivere senza di te.”Those word I’ve yet to hear from him are unlike any he’s said before. I’ll have to ask him what they mean.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Nico
If it weren’tfor my father, things could have gone wrong, so very fucking wrong. The description he gave me once he and a few other guys joined him that Petrov had a gun in his hand and he was pointing it right at Journey, to say it took years off my life was putting it mildly. My father came out of retirement to take care of the scum of the earth that was currently trying to wipe out more than me. Going after my wife, Petrov knew it would be a declaration on war. If Journey were gone, I’d be mourning her, making me weak, which is when he’d swoop in. Petrov wasn’t smart enough, though, not when it came to the Donotello Famiglia. We protect our own with everything necessary The one casualty is Journey being shot with a dart pumped full of drugs. Even the hospital staff had no idea where to begin with the toxicology report. The one thing that saved her was the fact she pulled it out of her neck before falling to the ground while the drugs worked their way out of her system. It’s the concussion they’re worried about now. I rode with her in the ambulance to the hospital, asking Enzo, who was better and more cognizant, refusing to go to the hospital, and my father to hold Petrov in the freezer until I knew she was okay. The second she was taken back, and no one was allowed with her while they ran tests, that’s when I left, unable to pace any longer while still needing to be a boss. Journey may be pissed, but putting Petrov out of commission and keeping her safe, this time for good, was more important.
I greeted my mom at the entrance to the emergency room. She held her keys out to me and kissed my cheek, telling me to be careful and to hurry the hell up to be with my wife. Some things never change. There were times in my childhood when she’d say the same to my father. It took little to no time getting to the restaurant. All the men were gathered around Petrov and the two men working with him, all three strung up on meat hooks. They had disdainful looks on their faces, acting like tough guys. They weren’t that way when we were done with them. Each man in the outfit took a shot with their weapon of choice, whether it was a gun, their fists, or a knife of their choice. It was me who took the meat cleaver to the fucker who put a dart in my wife’s neck. It was Petrov’s turn afterwards. True to my word, I cut off his tongue and watched the blood gush while he and his pissants screamed in pain, only feeling a tenth of what they should be feeling. My papà, though, known for taking things to the extreme, he used his gun to shoot each finger off Petrov. It still wasn’t enough. As soon as he’d pass out, we’d use smelling salts to bring him back to consciousness, only to repeat the process. Such a shame, too, because not only will his wife not know where her husband is, she won’t know where her son is buried either. Things could have gone differently, if only he’d have sat down like a real man to have a meeting or backed the fuck off like most would. Instead, he treaded on our territory, fucking up every step of the way.
“You sure you don’t want to take a shower and get to the hospital?” My father gave me the out. I shook my head. I was the boss now, and as much as I appreciated him stepping in to help, it was me who needed to see it through.
“No, I’ll be watching as he gets buried. I do need to make a call first, though,” I told him, grabbing my phone. My hands were a bloody mess, my suit ruined. That will have to be burned along with all the others. I fired off a quick text to Wylder and waited for him to respond. Once he did, well, it was time to take the men out to the desert.
That took us the longest, digging the holes, placing their unconscious bodies in the shallow graves, burying them until their heads were out of the ground the way I had been dreaming all along, bringing them back to life one last time to see what it means to fuck with the Donotellos. Only then did I go back to my house, making sure every trace of what happened today was wiped clean. My crew was two steps ahead. The cleaning company had come and gone. I took a shower and headed to the hospital, which is where I am now. Our family is surrounding Journey while she sleeps, not knowing when she’ll wake up next or if she’ll sleep all through the night.
