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Even going to his room is suspect. But I can’t share a hospital with the bastard who attempted to kill me, instead shooting my wife, and not see him.
The hall is quiet, not a nurse in sight, when I stop at room 302. The door makes a quietclickas I open it. I tiptoe inside. The TV is playing a black-and-white movie on low volume.
Vincent Lombardi is in bed with IVs connected to his arm, like Neomi, but there are more. Machines beep around him. His wrinkled skin is pale. A breathing machine rests over his mouth. He wheezes and gurgles like he’s gasping for air.
God, I wish he’d choke to death.
I step to his bedside, wanting nothing more than to wrap my hand around his neck and strangle the life out of him.
“I figured you’d come roaming in here like the vermin you are.”
My back stiffens, and I shift to find a figure sitting in the dark corner. He flips on the light to put himself on display.
Antonio Lombardi.
Vincent’s middle son.
My father has referred to him as the rational one on many occasions.
He spreads his legs and rests his elbows on his knees. “My guess is, you’re not here for a welfare check. What was your plan? Come in here and kill him?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Did you not consider they’d check the cameras and see you?”
I keep my voice low. “My men are good at erasing camera footage.”
He scoffs again.
“But since I don’t like witnesses, I’ll have to also kill you. What was it I heard he said?” I tap my chin. “A son for a son? Me for Vinny.”
“My father is dying, Benny.” He rubs his shaved cheek. “Do me a favor and allow him to pass in peace.”
“No.” I want to say more, like his father didn’t consider I wouldn’t have passed in peace if his hit had been successful. But I’m a man who doesn’t like to speak much to his enemies. “Men who call hits on other men don’t deserve favors.”
“I didn’t know about the hit.” He stands. “Had I known about it, I’d have advised him against it, as I’ve done several times since your father killed Vinny. Whenever he wanted to strike, I talked sense into him.”
“What happened this time, then?”
Even though I can’t see much of him, when he looks at his father, I can sense the pain.
“My father has struggled with health issues the past two months, and his decision-making has been limited,” he explains. “Yesterday wasn’t his first stroke, but it’ll be his last. We will place him in hospice until he goes.”
“Good.” I smirk. “It’s time he rots.”
Antonio winces. “I don’t believe my father would’ve okayed the hit if he had been in the right state of mind.”
“But he did. Right frame of mind or not, he needs to pay for his mistake. Unless you’d like to?” I raise a brow. “Make the prince pay for the king’s wrongs?”
He lifts his chin. “I don’t want you dead or to go to war with your family.”
“Bullshit. My father killed your brother.”
“Because my brother was stupid enough to kidnap your father’s fiancée.” He slips his fingers together and rests them on his forehead. “My uncle Sonny has called my legitimacy to become boss into question within the family. He and Vinny were close. He’s made it clear to the family that I am a traitor for not wanting to ruthlessly murder your family.” He lowers his hands to jerk a finger toward his father while staring at me with confliction. “As soon as he dies, everything will change. Whether that’s good or bad depends on who takes over. Sonny wants to be king and wants you dead. He’s the one who sent men to follow you at the club the night your car was shot up.”
I smile. “Let him try.”
Antonio tenses when I reach forward and grab Vincent’s breathing mask.
“Rot in hell,” I say, pulling the mask back and spitting in his mouth while Vincent gasps for air. The mask smacks back into his face when I release it.
Antonio punches me in the side of my jaw on my way out of the room.
