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One more in the long line of sacrifices he’d made to be here for me, and this one might have screwed up his own dreams completely.
TWENTY
Luciana
The lightfrom the broad but dingy windows of the guys’ loft apartment streaked across Quentin’s face where he was sprawled in a boxy armchair. His eyes were closed, his face still even paler than usual, but a little of the tightness from the pain had eased from his features.
The doctor Rafael had summoned had arrived just a few minutes after we’d gotten in, cleaned and stitched up the gunshot wound with brisk efficiency, and dispensed painkillers to both Quentin and me. She’d tested my ribs first and judged that they weren’t broken.
From what I could tell, they weren’t even fully bruised like they had been in Boston. Octavio’s two punches had knocked me down in the moment, but they were nothing compared to the rampage of kicks I’d gotten during that previous fight.
That didn’t mean they feltgood, though.
The door clicked shut as she left the space as discreetly as she’d arrived. My gaze drifted over the rest of the apartment from my vantage point where I was propped up on the modern sofa’s cushions.
Calling the place Rafael had found for himself and the guys an “apartment” was really a bit of a stretch. The sprawling open-concept room with its exposed concrete walls was obviously meant to be a commercial loft, not a living space.
It did have a sink and fridge setup at one end, and makeshift bedrooms had been cordoned off with office-style room dividers. The landlord had done his best to give it a homey feel with the furnishings despite the grungy industrial atmosphere, but it’d clearly been a losing battle.
Rafael prowled along the line of windows, peering over the street below into the stark mid-afternoon sunlight. He probably liked how open the layout was—easy to get the other men out if they needed to make a hasty escape, every part of the space accessible without real doors in the way.
Jasper leaned against the wall between two of the windows, and Niko sank onto the arm of the sofa near my feet. They’d both spent the last half hour bustling around, bringing water and rags as the doctor had asked for them, pitching in every way they could.
Jasper’s mouth was drawn down in a worried scowl. His gaze caught mine. “Did you have any idea those guys would attack you like that?”
My stomach knotted. In our hurry to get back here and have Quentin looked after, we hadn’t really talked about the fight… or what I’d needed to do during it.
I shook my head. “I had a feeling Octavio was trying to undermine me. He obviously wasn’t happy about me being back or Mom priming me as her heir. But to come at me openly… He must have been totally sure he could win and cover up his involvement. Mom would have hunted him down to the ends of the earth if she knew.”
Rafael had stopped his pacing. “You spared him the tortures she’d have dealt out,” he said in his low voice. “Gave him a cleaner end than he deserved.”
He knew how the guilt would be eating at me—how much I hated the violent side of this life. The other guys…
Niko simply cocked his head, moving on to the next concern. “What’ll happen to the rest of them—the ones who ran away? Do we need to worry about them coming after you again?”
“Nah.” I pushed myself a little higher on the couch, relaxing as the painkillers took most of the edge off the lingering ache. “It was Octavio who had the big ideas. They were just following him—they won’t want to show their faces anywhere near me or my mother after that mess. He must have told them he’d promote them once he was in charge. He figured he’d be next in line for leadership of the empire with me out of the way.”
Jasper let out a light snort. “Jeez. And I thought Quentin had ambition.”
In the armchair, Quentin’s eyes popped open at that remark. He still looked more fragile than I liked, his normally neatly slicked-back hair rumpled across his forehead, but a healthy color was seeping back into his cheeks.
He flicked his gaze toward his rival with a flash of amused rancor. “Very funny, St. Pierre.” As he shifted his attention to me, his tone softened. “How are you holding up?”
I blinked at him and half-sputtered my answer. “Me? You’re the one who took a bullet.”
Quentin lifted his good shoulder in one of his new partial shrugs. “Now I’m all patched up, good as new. Your ribs were already bothering you.”
I touched my side, testing the sore spots. “I think he only set my healing back a little. They were almost back to normal.”
Niko hummed and stood up. “I think you could both use some jasmine tea. It’ll help you unwind and speed up the healing process.”
As our coach headed for the kitchen area, Jasper raised his eyebrows. “Should we start calling you Dr. Okabe now?”
Niko shot a teasing glance over his shoulder. “Only if it turns you on.”
Jasper flushed but laughed, and I couldn’t suppress a giggle of my own. But my mind jarred against the weird sense of normalcy.
I’d just killed a man in front of these guys. Somehow, none of them seemed remotely bothered by it. The casual banter and the concerned affection in their gazes when they looked at me was all totally familiar.
