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His white teeth gleamed in the moonlight. “Probably both.” He snapped his fingers and a gurney appeared. “Let’s get you inside.”
“If you think I’m getting on that—”
Muriella cut me off with a look. I winced as I swung my other leg out of the truck. Donato offered me an arm, which I ignored. Bracing on both sides of the door, I pushed out and landed on my feet. That wasn’t so bad.
A guy who was the size of about two of me, and I was no small fella, lowered the gurney when he realized I wasn’t going to let anybody help me on it. I glared at the white bed, gritted my teeth, and took a step toward the front door.
“Stone, you’ll hurt yourself.”
I flashed Muriella a million-dollar smile. “Just a scratch, darlin’.”
“Don’t you darlin’ me.” She spun around to the two men closest to her and pointed. “Help him onto that.”
They towered over her, yet both of them looked warily from her to their boss.
“Better do as the lady says.” Donato leaned toward me, his voice low. “I don’t want to piss her off, son.”
“Appreciate the help,” I said acidly. Like he’d ever get on that thing.
I pushed past the brutes, cursing every step. At least the faster I moved, the faster I got to the house.
A hand landed on my shoulder when I reached the three steps of the front stoop.
“This is as far as you go.”
The men picked me up as if I weighed nothing and deposited me on the gurney. They lifted me into the house and rolled me into a room set up like an infirmary. Guess I wasn’t the first person to need medical attention here.
An older gentleman wearing scrubs wasted no time cutting off my shirt and removing the makeshift bandage Carlos had put on me.
“You’re very fortunate,” he said, without looking up. “Another inch and you’d be dead.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Muriella
Another inchand you’d be dead. Another inch and you’d be dead.
The statement was on repeat in my brain and wouldn’t shut off. I folded my arms over my stomach. I was going to be sick.
“How’d he find you?” Stone’s voice carried in the darkened bedroom.
“I thought you were asleep.”
He’d been stubborn about taking the pain medication once we’d gotten him settled in one of the guest rooms, but I’d eventually gotten him to. Donato fed us, though I couldn’t really eat, and I had no idea how long I’d been laying in bed awake next to Stone.
“Are you avoiding the question?” His voice was weaker than I was used to.
“A photograph of us. The day you came by Paths.”
“Shit,” he croaked, sounding more pained than he had at any point since the shooting.
“No—”
“I didn’t think.” He shifted in the bed, trying to sit up. “I’m sorry, Muriella. I was so selfish.”
“Lie still.” I placed a hand on his arm, but he still struggled.
“You were in real danger of being back with him because of me.” He turned his face away, the light from the bathroom hitting him. His features were contorted in anguish like I’d never seen.
