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"Mrs. Mancini needs some help calming down. Prepare a sedative," Dr. Hewitt says to the woman. "Dolph, help her back onto the exam table."
Oh, heck, no.
Dolph reaches for me and it's my turn to jump back. I grab my handbag and quickly pull out my Glock 19, training it on the big man. "Step back."
"Put that away," the doctor barks, not sounding worried at all.
Does he think I won't shoot?
The female nurse approaches me with the hypodermic.
I let my gun's barrel shift slightly so it's pointing at her and I snarl. "Stay away from me."
She retreats and Dr. Hewitt turns his condescending arrogance on her. "She's not going to shoot you, Lynne."
"Don't bet on it," I say.
I should call for Lara, but I'm angry with her. She brought me here. And though I'm sure she knew why too, Lara didn't say a word to me about it.
Dolph leaps toward me and I quickly aim and fire. Lynne screams. Dr. Hewitt shouts and Dolph crashes backward, red blooming on the right side of his scrub top. I wasn't aiming for a kill shot, but to stop him.
Lara bursts into the room, her gun drawn. As soon as she sees where I have mine aimed, the woman with the sedative, she trains hers on the doctor.
"Get this woman out of my clinic. When Mr. Mancini arranges another appointment, she needs to be sedated and cannot be armed."
Lynne gasps. "You are going to let her come back? Why aren't we calling the police?"
The doctor ignores her.
So does Lara. "Giulia?"
Almost everyone in the Vegas mafia calls me by my first name. They do things differently here than in New York. There is a lot about Las Vegas that is different from where I grew up.
The weather, for one thing. I like the sunshine, but the extreme heat in the summers is why I plan my longest trip each year to visit my family in August.
"Guilia?" Lara prompts me again.
Oops. My mind is wandering. I've never shot anyone before. It's disconcerting. "Dolph needs assistance before he bleeds out."
Neither Dr. Hewitt nor Lynne move to help their colleague, who is sitting on the floor, bleeding against a cabinet.
"Why did you shoot him?" Lara asks me.
"He was going to force me onto the exam table where he…" I indicate the still fuming doctor. "Planned to shove his fingers up my vagina without my consent." I point to Lynne. "She was going to sedate me."
Lara narrows her eyes at the doctor. "Explain."
With that one word, Lara puts herself firmly in the same doghouse as my husband. Instead of threatening the doctor, she requests an explanation. As if there isanythingthat could justify the man's actions.
Apparently, like Raff and Dr. Hewitt, Lara doesn’t believe my body belongs tome.
It's not about being a woman. It's because I'm the wife of the underboss and any children I have are heirs to the don.
"She has an IUD. Mr. Mancini wants her to get pregnant and she won't as long as it's in her uterus. I was going to remove it, per his instructions to treat her infertility."
Furious, I say, "I am the patient. You don't do anything to me without my permission. And also, the use of the word infertility could be triggering, as I'm sure you are aware."
This man needs more than a weekend seminar on sensitivity. He needs to have his brain rewired.
