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"He's your brother?" I ask. "What's his name if he's your brother."
"Did you kill him?" The man on the phone questions.
"No, but he's going to die soon," I reply trying hard not to give much away.
"At your hands?" The more morbid the line of questioning the calmer the person on the other end sounds.
"No. Not at my hands." I let out a deep breath and continued, "I'm trying to help him but I don't know what else to do. He's sick."
"Vittore Bianucci. He's got a brand on his neck and a deep wound on his side. Dirty blonde hair. Last we spoke he was taking care of a woman and her child. Stella Spiro."
I drop my head in relief, "That's me. I'm Stella. Whatever we had is on its way out but Vitto isn't doing too good. It looks like blood poisoning. He was shot a few days ago and we've basically been on the run since. He told me I couldn't take him to the hospital and that I should just let him die."
"Of course, he'd say that. Where are you? I'll send someone to get you."
The relief subsides and uncertainty whips through me. We spent all this time on the run and hiding, trying to make sure no one found us. It's not too smart for me to just give away my position but right now I don't have a better choice. The other option I have is to let Vitto die. For some reason, letting him die after all we've been through seems to be a waste. I want to give him every chance at living I can.
"We're at the Blue Gill Motel, I can text you the address."
The minute the words are out of my mouth I pray that I haven't made the wrong choice.
Twenty-One
Vitto
My mouth feels like it's been lined with sandpaper.
I try to lick my lips but even trying to move my tongue I can feel the skin at the corners of my mouth cracking. I'm dehydrated.
Slowly, too slow for my liking, I start to wake up.
Along with figuring out how dehydrated I am, I realize that I'm also moving.
"What the fuck!." I groan and try to sit up only to have a strong hand push me back down. Anger and the need to break the arm that's holding me down rages through me.
"Don't make me have to stab you brother." A deep voice startles me.
"Vitto, it's okay. You're safe." I hear Stella's voice.
Stella's here. I'm safe, she's safe.
"Chance? Where's Chance?" I grumble and force my eyes open. I realize that I'm in the SUV. Someone is driving that isn't me and I don't hear my son. "Stella!" I grumble.
"Vittore, stop you're going to pull out the IV."
Finally, I focus my eyes and groan when I see not only my brother Xander but also Giancarlo in the truck with us. Stella is feeding Chance. That's why I didn't hear him.
My eyes fall to my elbow and I see the tubing leading up to the small bag that's being held up on the back of the front seat.
"Who the hell called you?" I croak and move over toward Stella. I know these are my brother's but I don't know if they've been given orders to hurt her. I can't allow that even from my family.
"I called you and Stella filled me in on what happened after you last spoke with me. You fixed her up but forgot to tend to yourself."
They weren't lying, but I didn't want them to know that just being in Stella's presence had thrown me this far off my game. I've never been this sloppy in my life and the minute I'm back in the same vicinity as Stella, I'm a stumbling fool. To think that I was almost taken out by something as ridiculous as blood poisoning.
"You're lucky that we were able to get a flight out here or you would've been a dead man." Xander shakes his head and turns back toward the front.
"I didn't ask you to help me," I say petulantly.
