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ChapterTwenty-Seven
Romeo called when the boys were on the way back to the chopper, informing me that I needed to bring in the doc. The words no father wants to hear when their children have been off on a job.
“I need you to distract Holly and Savvy,” I tell Neo.
“Why?”
“Matteo got hit, in the arm. Romeo says it looks clean,” I explain in a hushed voice.
“Got it.” Neo nods his head.
We’re in my cousin’s office. He and Angelica spend half the year at this estate and the other half in New York. Holly pushes the door open, not bothering to knock. Not that she ever has.
“T, why is the doc here?” she asks me.
I look past her to see our on-call doctor with two trolleys of medical equipment behind him. I don’t ever lie to my wife, but that doesn’t mean I always tell her every little detail of what’s going on either.
“I called him,” I say before addressing the man in the hall. “Thanks for coming, Doc.”
“Shit, Holly, can you show me where that book in the library is? You know, that one you were talking to Angelica about? She said she wanted to read it and I want to get it for her.” Neo places his hand on my wife’s back, turning her around and guiding her out the door.
“Don’t think I don’t know you’re trying to distract me, Neo Valentino,” she chastises him, then aims her glare at me.
I know I’m going to pay for this later. But, right now, I need the doctor to be able to do his job without the distraction of a hysterical mother or wife. Because let’s face it, when Holly and Savvy find out that Matteo was shot, this house is going to hear a fair amount of screaming.
“Come in, Doc. You can set up in here. The boys are about ten minutes out,” I tell him.
“Sure, boss,” the doctor says as he starts emptying out his bags and laying out his supplies.
I open the glass door that leads to the backyard. It’ll be easier for the boys to bring Matteo in this way, rather than go through the house where God only knows who will see them.
* * *
I should have knownthat Holly wasn’t going to leave so easily. As soon as the four boys are walking towards the back of the office, my wife runs out to the yard. I can’t hear what she says but the looks on my sons’ faces tell me it’s nothing good. All I can do now is stand back and wait for the chaos headed my way.
When they make it into the office, Matteo is still assuring his mother that he’s fine and it’s just a scratch, which Holly isn’t having a bar of.
“Dolcezza, you need to let the doctor do his job. Come on.” I grab her shoulders and try to move her away from where Theo and Luca have laid Matteo out on the makeshift surgical table the doc has set up on the desk.
Holly turns her glare on me for the second time today. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was shot, T.”
“He’s fine,” I assure her, my eyes skimming Matteo, who apart from the bullet hole in his arm, does in fact seem fine.
“Ma, I promise. I’m fine,” he repeats, for what I’m guessing is the millionth time.
The doctor removes Theo’s hand that was pressing down on the wound over the fabric of a suit coat. Then he uses the scissors to cut the material of Matteo’s shirt away.
“Someone hand me a drink.” Matteo looks at his brothers.
“I’ll get it,” Romeo says.
“What the hell happened?” Holly asks them.
“Ah, a bullet flew through the air and landed in Matteo’s arm,” Theo says, and then looks away when his mother aims that same glare she gave me on him.
Rule number one of being married to a fiery redhead: Don’t piss off thefiery redhead, especially when she’s in mama bear mode.
“He’s going to be okay, right, Doc? How does it look?” Holly turns her questions to the doctor.
