by Cecy Robson
She lifts her blood-soaked fingers, ignoring the smears coating her light blue dress. “Sal, your friend has been stabbed and shot in the leg. He needs a hospital and emergency surgery.”
“No,” Lucca bites. “We need to get the fuck out of here.”
“You’re not going to make it to morning unless you’re treated,” Autumn insists. “You’re losing too much blood.”
Aedry’s hand cups my shoulder. “Sal,” she says. “We have to get him to a hospital.”
She barely gets the words out when the side door whips open. In one motion I stand, my piece out, pointed, and ready to fire.
Aedry and Autumn scramble to stand as Devan stills in place with his hands out. “The main roads are flooded,” he says. “There’s no getting to the airport or the hospital tonight.”
“Then call for help,” Autumn snaps, showing me a side of her I’ve never seen. “This man needs treatment.”
Devan’s gaze passes along Lucca before returning to me. “There’s no getting out,” he repeats.
I house my piece. “He was attacked when his car broke down,” I say. “They took his money and left him on the road like this.”
Devan doesn’t miss a beat. “There is a local gang responsible for attacking tourists. The police don’t do anything. Half their profit goes to them.”
It’s bullshit and I know it. Neither Aedry or Autumn appear to notice. Aedry kneels in front of Autumn as she resumes her inspection of Lucca’s injuries. “Do you think you can help him?”
Autumn works fast, cleaning Lucca’s wounds. “Not with what I have.” Her eyes widen when Lucca removes his hand from his shoulder and a gush of blood seeps out. She slaps a fresh towel against the wound, ordering Aedry to keep the pressure on it.
“What do you need?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even.
“What?” Autumn asks like she didn’t hear me.
“What do you need to help him?”
“Medical instruments, intravenous fluids, stitches, antiseptic . . .” Her eyes travel back to his face. “And blood. He needs a transfusion.”
I turn back to Devan. “If she gives you a list of what she needs―pictures, things like that―can you get them?”
“My cousin owns a medical supply store,” he answers. “It’s only a mile down the road. Show me and I’ll get it.”
More bullshit. If there is a supply store, he’s breaking in and breaking out. Devan has been paid a lot of money to be the go-to man.
Apollo and Gianno wander back in, both looking sick. This whole scene is reminiscent of our parents’ death. Jesus Christ, I would have done anything to spare them from this shit.
“Get your phones,” I order. “Autumn is going to list off everything she needs. Find pictures and give them to Devan.”
They inch forward, like they’re afraid to get too close. “Sal,” Autumn says, her voice soft. “It may not be enough.”
Lucca’s unconscious again, his skin sweating and his pallor worsening. “Autumn,” I tell her. “It’s going to have to be . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Aedry
Sal keeps me close against him as we step onto the runway. Puddles litter the tarmac, the leftover rain giving it an added shine. It’s cool, but not so much to make me shake. Yet that’s precisely what I’m doing.
I glance behind me to make sure Apollo and Gianno remain within reach. They look as bad as I feel, the lack of sleep and the stress from the night ringing circles around their eyes. Ahead of us, Autumn follows closely behind Devan and his “cousins,” as they carry Lucca toward the private plane.
Lucca backed Salvatore’s story, as did Devan and his family to some extent. I should believe them, but I can’t. I don’t believe anything he tells me anymore.
When I saw Salvatore last night, covered in blood . . . every fear about losing him came crashing around me in one horrible rush. I was beside myself, hurrying to gather our things, and helping Autumn with Lucca’s care.
Autumn was a Godsend. She took control in a way I’ve never seen, and that I am completely incapable of. My knees buckled when she located the bullet and dislodged it from Lucca’s thigh.
“It was only imbedded in the muscle,” she said, as if it was the best news ever. Perhaps for Lucca, it was.
The supposed good news didn’t stop poor Apollo from vomiting in the sink. Lucca, who only received a local anesthetic and Tylenol for pain was (understandably) out of control during the procedure. Sal, Devan, and Gianno held him down, but it was Autumn, all Autumn, who calmed him with her voice. She was more than the mother hen I’m used to, the person who used to insist I wear a scarf in the winter and who fed me chicken soup when I didn’t listen and caught a cold. She was . . . amazing. Salvatore noticed it, too. And he wasn’t alone.
After an hour or so of sleep, I woke to find Autumn curled up next to Lucca, trying to keep his body warm. He spoke softly to her as he gently stroked her face. Lucca is rough and startling like Sal, but in many ways more dangerous. The look he gave Autumn was one of awe, as if this angel who found him was the one he’d been waiting for.
“Get in the plane and get settled,” Sal says, his expression so laced with ire the ground crew passing him gives him ample space. “I have to take care of business before we can take off.”
A few weeks ago, I would have questioned him, but today I don’t. It’s not that I’m weak or too tired to argue. It’s more like I’m afraid, not of Salvatore, the man who shields me with his body as he walks beside me, but of the secrets he shields himself with.
He bends to kiss my cheek, but I withdraw, my reaction stinging us both. But I don’t pause to apologize or to offer a reassuring smile. Right now, there are others who need me more.
I reach for the boys, wrapping my arms around their waists and hurrying them along. Apollo wraps his arm around me, too, needing comfort and someone to soothe his lingering fear. Gianno surprises me by draping his arm around my shoulders, as if to assure himself we’re all still alive.
An odd sense of doom churns my gut, but it’s the foolishness I feel that keeps my head lowered. Just hours ago, when I thought Salvatore was proposing, I was out of my mind with joy. There’s nothing more I wanted than to tell him yes and promise him forever. And now . . . now I’m not certain we’ll make it to next week.
Whatever he really went out for risked our safety. Not just mine and his, but Autumn and the boys. I can’t spend my life with a man who’d risk so much, so easily.
“We’re going home?” Apollo asks me, his voice oddly vacant.
I stroke his arm. “Yes, sweetie. We’re going home.”
We reach the steps to the private jet and it’s all I can do not to freak out. We rode a commercial airline to the island and now we’re on a luxury plane, yet another red flag signaling Sal’s lies.
Apollo hesitates, stopping at the base of the metal stairs.
My instinct is to haul him forward, to where the first step toward safety lies. But his pallor and features keep my motions gentle. “Apollo . . . what’s wrong?” I ask.
His weakened expression stays ahead. “We didn’t get to swim with the dolphins,” he answers.
The place that conducts the dolphin excursion shut down shortly after they arrived due to the approaching storm. But that’s not what he means. He’s telling me his vacation was not what he envisioned, and it became something out his worst nightmares. It’s too reminiscent of what his life was supposed to be, back when his mother was still alive and he felt safe.
“I know,” I tell him, acknowledging his fears. For now, it’s all I can do.
Gianno glances my way, recognizing how close Apollo is to losing his composure. “Let’s just get the hell out of here,” he says, leading him up. He freezes at the top, before rushing back down and dragging Apollo with him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, readying to run for our lives.
“Lucca―he’s freaking out,” he says.
It takes me a moment to digest what h
e’s saying before I race up the steps. The jet is large. A row of seats takes up the right, but it’s the sofa running along the opposite side that holds my attention. Devan and his men are struggling to hold Lucca down.
Lucca is flailing wildly, swearing and flinging his fists. I rush forward as his hand punches out and strikes Autumn across the face, sending her flying and her glasses shooting to the floor.
I expect her to react with shock or to edge away in fear. But before I can reach her, she’s already to her feet and back at Lucca’s side.
She leans over him, grabbing his face as he continues to fight the arms trying to pin him down. “Lucca, it’s Autumn,” she says, her voice soft, yet firm. “You’re safe. Do you hear me? You’re safe . . . I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
She turns to the men. “Let him go,” she tells them.
They exchange glances. Like me, they think Autumn has lost her mind. She levels her gaze at them. “I said, let him go,” she repeats.
Lucca’s body is so rigid, he appears more statue than man. His glare travels to each of the men holding him as he eases his frantic flailing. One by one, their hands drop away.
“Thank you for your help,” Autumn tells the men. “You can leave him to my care.”
Her palm is pressed against his shoulder, holding him in a way those strong men failed to do.
Lucca fixes his livid stare on the men, watching them pile out. It’s not until their voices echo away from the plane that his attention returns to Autumn.
“Did I hurt you?” he asks her, speaking through his teeth. His eyes widen as they fix on her swelling cheek. “Shit,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
Autumn shifts her position from where she’s kneeling on the floor. “I’m all right,” she assures him.
Lucca’s timbre is so edged with anger, it’s all I can do not to haul Autumn away from him. Unlike me, she’s not afraid. She smiles softly, appearing relieved that the immediate threat is over. “The morphine I gave you made you relive the attack,” she explains, her gentle voice growing sad. “I’m so sorry. I only meant to soothe your pain.”
Her voice trails as Lucca lifts a strand of her wild hair and tucks it behind her ear, his fingertip dragging along her jawline to hook beneath her chin. “I would never hurt you,” he rasps.
The gesture is innocent enough, but there’s so much sex behind his tone and touch, he appears seconds from peeling off her clothes. Autumn’s face flushes, her full pink lips parting as their gazes lock.
I back away, realizing I’m intruding on their moment only to ram into Salvatore. He catches me. I didn’t even know he was behind me. Apollo and Gianno must have alerted him there was trouble. As it is, he’s looking past at me to Lucca, his frown revealing his concern and his surprise.
Autumn reaches for her discarded glasses and quickly covers Lucca with a blanket. By the time she tucks it around him, he’s already sound asleep.
“We’re taking off soon,” Sal says. “Are you okay if I leave you?”
I think he’s talking to Autumn until he leaves when I nod. Apollo and Gianno slip into their seats, tossing me worried glances. Autumn continues to skitter around the plane until she finds another blanket to place over Lucca, who’s begun to tremble. I’m hesitant to interrupt her care, waiting until she heads to the rear of the plane to speak with her.
There’s a small eating area in the back. I find her at the sink washing her face. I touch her back gently, gasping when she turns and I see how swollen her cheekbone is. “Oh, my God, Autumn.”
“I’m all right,” she says, when I continue to gape at the swelling. “He isn’t the first patient to lash out at me and he won’t be the last.”
“He seemed so out of control,” I say for lack of anything better.
Her demeanor dwindles, growing sad. “I gave him morphine for the pain and so he’d sleep, but what he really needs is blood. He lost so much, the small dose was enough to trigger hallucinations.” She shakes her head. “Whatever happened . . . Jesus, Aedry, he was fighting for his life. If Salvatore hadn’t found him, he wouldn’t have made it.”
“Do you think he’ll make it now?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I gave him the antibiotics Devan brought, but the surgical procedures I performed weren’t sterile or under the best conditions. We’ll need him transported to the nearest hospital when we land. Can you look after my bags? I won’t be able to take them with me in the ambulance―”
“You’re going with him to the hospital?”
Her eyebrows knit as if she’s confused by my question. “I have to. He’s my patient.”
“Is that all?” I find myself asking.
Her blush tells me more than she actually says. “What else would he be?” she asks. The sadness returns to her voice, despite her small smile. “Did you see what he looks like, Aedry? No way would someone like him fall for me.”
Which is the same thing I said when I met Salvatore.
Autumn didn’t see the way he caressed her when she slept beside him. The way he looked at her was as if she reminded him of someone he’s been searching for, or lost, long ago. Not that it’s necessarily a good thing.
Lucca doesn’t come across as the warm friendly type. Like Sal, he strikes me as someone unaccustomed to kindness and familiar with how cruel life can be. Despite his critical condition and agitated state, he recognized how tirelessly Autumn cared for him and her efforts to help him.
I take in my friend, her beautiful flawless face, that long mane of red hair, and her heart. Someone like Lucca could very much fall for someone like her.
I don’t tell her. While Lucca didn’t intentionally hurt her, this is a man capable of harm. A hard body, quick hands, and a tough life are not qualities Autumn needs in a man, and neither are the lies he helped spread last night.
I try not to think about how smoothly Salvatore spoke and how easily each excuse came, not when I’m feeling so fragile, and not with Apollo and Gianno so close.
Without another word, I return to my seat, ignoring that nagging feeling which warns me those lies are just a few of many since I first met Salvatore. I wanted to trust him and believe he’s a good man. But after all this . . .
I click my seatbelt in place and look out to the tarmac, my breath catching when Sal passes Devan a thick roll of bills. I close the shade, blinding myself to what’s in front of me.
The last thing I ever wanted to say to Salvatore was goodbye.
But now, I no longer have a choice.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Salvatore
I grind my hips against Aedry, every pound forward bowing her spine and lifting her breasts closer to my face. I pull one of her nipples into my mouth to suck, prolonging her orgasm. Each thrust, each stroke, each kiss makes me feel close to her. The problem is, this is the only time I feel close to her.
Since we returned from the island, nothing has been the same between us. Vin has me watching his back or someone else’s almost every night―his way of punishing me for grabbing him by the throat and slamming him against the desk the minute I got a hold of him.
“You fucked me and my family over,” I told him, squeezing his throat tighter.
“You’re wrong,” he said, gasping and batting at my hands. “I’m the one saving them.”
I released him only because I wouldn’t walk out of the building alive once his men found him dead. He claims to be the one saving my family, but he’s wrong. His idiotic strategies, his ineptness with being a leader, and his increasing incompetence are slowly killing everyone under him. Where will that leave my brothers? Shit, where will it leave Aedry?
His shock and fear when I attacked him quickly dissolved, turning to anger and reminding me how deeply screwed I am. “What are you going to do, Sal? Leave? I’d like see you try.” He slides away from the desk, brushing himself off, like he almost didn’t piss himself when I had him by his scrawny neck. “The only way you leave me is in a body bag. Friend or not, no way in fuck
do you leave alive.”
My hips slow as I finish filling Aedry and lean down to kiss her. Our quick breaths don’t allow my lips to linger, but that doesn’t stop me from meeting her face. For a brief moment, she stares back at me like she’s done a thousand times, with nothing but adoration and love. But it doesn’t last.
She averts her gaze. “I need some water, okay?”
In other words, get the hell off me.
I roll to my side. She shifts to the edge, reaching for her silky robe. That’s the other thing she does, cover herself around me. Instead of watching her walk naked to the kitchen, all I see is her trying to shield herself from me.
She fills a glass at the filtration system in her refrigerator and takes a few sips. She then fills another one and returns to bed, passing the glass to me. “Thank you,” I tell her, drinking it down.
I place the half-empty glass on her nightstand and slide beneath the covers, waiting for her to join me. God damn it, it’s been a week since I’ve been able to spend the night―to do more than kiss her in passing.
Instead of losing the robe and crawling back to my side, she sits quietly at the edge of the bed. I hate feeling like she’s so far away, but what I hate more is the feeling I’m losing her.
My arms slide around her waist as I lower my chin to kiss her shoulder. She sighs like she’s sad, placing her glass beside mine. I think she’s going to stand or find some excuse to get away from me. Instead, her arms hold mine, keeping me close to her.
“I miss you,” she tells me.
I still, knowing she means more than the nights we’ve spent apart. She misses what we had before our trip, before I almost got us killed. “I miss you, too,” I say, resting my forehead against her shoulder.
Part of me wants to tug down her robe, drag my tongue along her delicate skin and spend the night inciting her passionate screams. I want to feel close to her. Jesus, I need to feel close to her.
“I know I’ve been working a lot. I’m hoping that’ll change,” I tell her, despite knowing there’s little chance in the near future. “The summer’s coming up. Maybe we can take a few days and go to the mountains. If not, maybe this winter, we can try skiing during one of your breaks from school.”