Page 79 of Vegas Daddy


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I nearly choke, my throat so dry it’s like I’ve swallowed a handful of glass shards. I know she’s right. I’d only be in the way. Even though it kills me not to be with her, there’s nothing more I can do for Willow. I have to trust the doctors and let them do their job.

I anxiously pace the waiting room, ignoring the stares from the staff and the other patients. Anxiety stabs me in the chest. What a fucking nightmare. If Willow doesn’t pull through…

I shake the thought from my mind. No. I can’t think like that. She’s going to make it. She has to.

Once I’ve managed to collect myself, I pull out my phone.

“Is it done?” Renata asks me when she picks up.

“It is, but Willow’s been shot.”

“Where are you?” she questions, her tone surprisingly even. I admire this woman. She has nerves of steel. I suppose it’s a given considering how long she’s been running one of the most powerful cartels in modern history.

“The hospital in Lagura.”

“Hold tight. I’m on my way.”

“Copy that.”

“Oh, and Mr. Phillips?”

“What?”

“If my granddaughter dies, I will kill you.”

Renata hangs up without another word.

Chapter 31

Willow

Until today, I’ve never taken a bullet. I can say with one-hundred percent certainty that I don’t want to do it again. Zero out of ten experience, would not recommend.

It’s like being punched and pierced and sliced and ripped open all at once. The pain radiates, ebbing and flowing with each one of my slow heartbeats, burning like the open crater of a fallen meteorite. I’m pretty sure I’ve got painkillers in my system because it takes way too long for my brain to put everything together. I’m groggy as hell, cramped and stiff, and more than a little aware of the annoying ringing sound in my ears.

I’m hyper aware of everything.

The white fluorescent lights above me burn my retinas. The sheets I’m lying on are scratchy and uncomfortable. My skin is impossibly tight and my eyes feel like they’re about to swell so large they’ll pop out of their sockets.

I grope around for something to hold onto, delirious and confused. When did I black out? What happened? And most importantly, where’s—

“Zane.”

Someone takes my hand. I can barely see past the tears blurring my vision, but I don’t need to look to know it’s him. I recognize the familiar roughness of his palm, the warmth of his fingers.

“I’m here, Willow.”

“Where are we? What’s going on?”

“Relax, darling. We’re at the hospital. The doctors say you’re going to be perfectly fine.”

“But the warehouse—”

“Up in smoke.”

“Esteban and my father?”

Zane’s jaw tightens as he exhales, giving me the smallest, almost imperceptible of head shakes. I’m disappointed, but not surprised given how spectacularly unprepared we were for their arrival.

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