Black Hat Hacker (Chicago Syndicate Book 6)

by Soraya Naomi

  “Miss, why don’t you sit down,” the nurse suggests, but I ignore her completely.

  Minutes tick by, and I march to the door when I hear Adriano’s voice from the hall. He meets me right before I exit, wrapping me in a one-arm hug, careful not to touch my injured side, and kissing the crown of my head.

  “Mary, how are you feeling?”

  “Okay.” I gaze up. “What happened to Henry?”

  A compassionate expression clouds his features.

  Crying, I grip his shirt. “Is he dead?”

  Adriano speaks hurriedly, “No, no, he’s not, Mary. But it’s not looking good.”

  “Why?” I ask, dreading the answer as I cling to my brother.

  “He almost bled to death and is in surgery now.”

  I mumble, “I could’ve sworn someone shook their head when I asked if he was dead.”

  “You were really out of it from the blows to your head, but luckily, you don’t have a concussion.”

  “Is Henry here? I want to be with him. Wait, what hospital are we in?”

  “Northwestern. And Henry’s a few floors up, on twenty.” He guides me back into the room and motions for me to sit on the bed. “First, tell me how you’re feeling. Other than okay.”

  “My head feels heavy, but I only have a light headache, and my side is just numb. I feel fine,” I explain in all honesty.

  “Thank god the bullet only grazed you, and Marc kept you sedated while they cleaned and stitched the wound. He also gave you some painkillers. You scared us, Mary.” He kisses my forehead again.

  “I didn’t do anything this time. I went to get some fresh air at the back entrance of the club where Jordana smothered me and knocked me out. And then I woke up in Keano’s apartment and Jordana and Henry were there.”

  “Did you know she was Keano’s half sister?”

  “No.”

  “Neither did we until Henry finished checking Keano’s computer yesterday. Jordana had a different last name, but she worked with Keano. We overlooked a huge fact, but she’s dead now.”

  I palm my forehead. “Well, how do we know there weren’t more accomplices?”

  “I had another tech guy go through Keano’s computer with a fine-tooth comb. I’m positive there were only three perpetrators. You don’t need to worry.”

  “All I worry about is Henry. Do I have to stay here or can I go? I want to go up to the twentieth floor.”

  “Yeah, you can go. The doctor told me that your stitches will be removed in a couple of days once your wounds have healed, and I have some pain killers for you in case you feel any soreness.”

  “Where are my clothes?”

  “They cut your dress off you when you came in. Cam is bringing some clothes for you. She should be here soon.”

  In the nick of time, Cam comes inside the room with a bag hanging over her shoulder.

  “Mary, you all right?” She dumps the bag on the bed and grips my hand as Adriano kisses her temple.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. Pretty numb at the moment.” Then I begin to sob. “I need to know how Henry’s doing. Can we please go up?”

  “Of course,” Cam says, motioning to Adriano to leave. “You go ahead, and I’ll help her dress and we’ll come up.”

  “Okay. The guard will take you,” Adriano responds and kisses her lips before deserting the room.

  Cam unzips the bag, taking out panties and a loose-fitting black cotton dress. “I didn’t know if jeans would hurt your side.”

  “This is perfect. Thanks. It is painful if I press on it too much.”

  But as tender as it is, I remove my gown and dress without her assistance. My need to be with Henry is the only thing on my mind.

  Within a minute, I’m done and ready to be on my way. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  On the twentieth floor, I hurry down the hallway with Cam in tow and into a waiting room where Adriano, Luca, Logan, and Carmine are talking to Dr. Marc Calderone, the Syndicate doctor who works here and makes sure that the police are never involved when members are brought in with bullet wounds.

  He takes off his scrub cap, brushing back his hair that’s streaked with silver.

  “Did you operate on Henry?” I ask, and they all turn to me.

  Marc explains, “No. Adriano wanted me to get an update from the doctors operating on him now.”

  “So he lived?” I have to know.

  Dammit. I’m going crazy here.

  Yet I grip the doorframe when Marc shakes his head in denial. “I’m not sure he’ll live, Mary. He was shot in the stomach twice and lost a lot of blood. Both bullet entries were into the belly. They’re checking all of his organs to either repair or pack the bleeding locally. Then they need to irrigate the peritoneum to clear the contamination as much as possible and close his abdominal wall.”

  “What are his chances of survival?” I probe, sniffing and wiping the tip of my nose.

  “I can’t say. It depends on how badly his intestines are damaged.”

  “How long have they been operating on him and how much longer should it take?” Cam inquires, folding my hand in hers and gripping me in comfort.

  “He’s been in surgery for an hour so far, and it’ll take at least another couple of hours.” Marc stretches his arm, checking his watch. “I need to go, but I’ll be back as soon as I know more or the doctors will come to you, Adriano.”

  I edge to the side to let him pass and move into the room to sink down onto a cushioned chair with Cam next to me.

  “Do you want to stay here?” she asks, and I nod, staring at the floor as tears drop onto my thighs.

  Cam winds her arm around my shoulder, pulling me against her, and when I start bawling, she signals to the others to give us some privacy. Without asking any questions, she strokes my hair for ages and lets me cry to vent my misery.

  Meanwhile, the waiting game goes insufferably slowly, driving me bonkers. It seems like every time I check the clock, only five damn minutes have gone by. Deep inside a dark place, I fear I’m losing Henry. Little by little, he’s being pulled away from me in the worst way possible because we’ve both been reckless and rash.

  CHAPTER 44

  Mary

  Two hours later, I’m still in the same position with Cam, and Rosalia has joined us too. But I’ve retreated into myself and am trapped in an endless cycle of regret.

  Why do we always feel the need to punish the ones we love most when they hurt us? Because love makes us fear, and fear can be ten times stronger than love. Unfortunately, fear also elicits distrust.

  Henry didn’t trust me and discovering that hurt me. Then I didn’t trust him and my enforced distance hurt him, which just made me more miserable in the process. The only moment of joy I’ve had since we broke up was last night when he made love to me and reminded me of how addicted I am to his touch.

  While I’m suspended in this bleak place of clinging to a thread of hope, I realize how I wasted two weeks by being mad and punishing us both. I thought I was better at expressing myself than Henry and I’ve judged him for not being in tune with his emotions, but in essence, I did the same to him.

  When it comes down to it, Henry’s imperfect, yet so am I. We all are. And the reality is that he’s proven he’d do anything to protect me. I should savor that instead of rejecting it because I have some movielike fantasy about love and relationships – Henry’s accusation was correct.

  Relationships are messy; especially one with a mafia member, and I finally accept that. Although a life with a commanding man like Henry is challenging, I’d still choose him over anyone else, always.

  Before I learned about his marriage, I was the happiest I’ve ever been. Now, at last, I recognize the reason; it’s because he does look at me the same way Luca and Adriano look at their wives. I witnessed extreme terror in his eyes when he saw the bullet hit me, as if it grazed him. As if he couldn’t imagine a life without me.

  Tragically, all I’m currently left with is massive regret that stabs my he
art.

  Please, God. Don’t make me lose him. I won’t take anything for granted anymore if you just let him live.

  I swing up when Marc shuffles inside the waiting room. “He’s out of surgery, but the next few hours are critical. No vital organs have been damaged and no bones have been fragmented. Both bullets have been removed. He’ll be watched closely for infections, and he should wake up in the next couple of hours.”

  I release the breath I was holding, relief washing over me. “Can I see him?”

  “It’s better if you don’t while he’s in such a weak state. It’s best we wait until he’s awake.”

  Downhearted, I nod, even though I hate not being able to be with him. “I’ll be here. Please come get me the second he wakes up.”

  “I will, Mary,” he promises before turning on his heel.

  And I start living solely toward the moment when Henry comes back to me. Once you’ve faced death, trivial things don’t matter anymore.

  CHAPTER 45

  Henry

  I’m flat on my back in a hospital room that reeks of disinfectant, hooked to an IV. My throat burns and my memory is fuzzy.

  As I’m trying to get my bearings, Marc peeks inside. “Henry, welcome back.”

  How did I end up here?

  I remember fucking Mary at Club 7, and then...Jordana!

  What happened to Mary?

  “Mary?” I whisper, and it comes out hoarse.

  Marc approaches my bed, opening my chart and flipping through papers. Evidently, he didn’t hear me.

  “Marc!” I manage to say, louder, and his gaze shoots up to me. “Where’s Mary?”

  My heart pounds in my chest, and I now notice the bandages around my middle and recall that Jordana shot me, twice. And she also hurt Mary.

  “In the waiting room. She’s fine; a bullet grazed her skin, and she was released after getting two stitches and pain killers, but she hasn’t left the hospital.”

  Thank fucking god she’s okay!

  “How long have I been here?”

  “One night. It’s morning now.” He walks into the adjacent bathroom and comes back with a cup of water and a straw, so I sip it, soothing my throat. But when I lift my head, I feel a stinging twinge in my stomach, and I grumble.

  Marc places the cup on the nightstand beside the bed, explaining, “You were in surgery for three hours, Henry. Two bullets were removed from your stomach, but none of your other organs were injured. Your stomach has been sewn shut, and I’m watching you closely for infection, so we’ll change your gauze often during the next couple of days. How are you feeling?”

  “Sluggish. My entire abdomen is sore.” My voice is still gruff.

  “You’ll be getting medicine through your IV continuously to relieve your pain.”

  “How long do I have to stay?”

  As he checks my IV, he answers, “At least two weeks. You’ll probably be able to walk in a couple of days. I don’t foresee any problems, because you’re healthy as a horse and no nerves were damaged. You’ll be kept on bed rest for a couple of days. And then we’ll begin rehabilitation with physical therapy. But it all depends on how fast your wounds heal. We might keep you longer. The most important thing right now is that you need to take it slow.”

  “I need her,” I counter, and he grins fleetingly.

  “I’ll send Mary in,” he states, exiting the room.

  With anticipation, I wait, eager for the reality of an unscathed Mary to replace my last memory of a bloodied Mary. That vision causes me to clench my fist, and I grunt from the pain I induce. Two fucking bullets didn’t hurt nearly as much as seeing the one I’ve wanted to protect from the moment she and I met fighting for her life. Just thinking about it fills me with anxiety, and I impatiently glance at the door, sucking in a breath when Mary steps inside. She’s wearing a baggy dress, and I’m so goddamn glad she appears to be okay, albeit moving a little slowly.

  “You’re all right,” I say the words to calm myself.

  Tears prick behind my eyelids from the stunning sight. A sight that I was afraid I’d never see again. Stopping beside my bed, she grips my hand, warming mine. It’s as if I literally come alive again, although I grind my teeth when I observe a bruise beneath her eye from where Jordana hit her.

  “I’m all right, but I’ve been worried sick about you,” she cries as the mattress dips when she sits down next to me.

  Lifting my arm, I palm her cheek, thumbing her tears away. “I’m okay too.”

  “What did Marc say?”

  “They removed the bullets, and I’ll need to stay in bed for a couple of days. What did he say to you?”

  “I just have to come back next week to get the stitches in my side taken out. I don’t have a concussion, only a light headache. But I feel fine now that you’re awake.” She strokes her fingers over my stubble. “Are you in pain?”

  Shaking my head, I rest my palm on her thigh, needing to touch her. “No pain, because Marc pumped me full of drugs, I think.”

  A smile pulls at her lips, making my gaze stray to her unique beauty mark. “I’m glad you’re not hurting.” Her knuckles skim down the side of my face in the most soothing manner. “I was so scared I’d lost you.”

  “I know, baby.” And I want her to know how guilt consumes me. “I should’ve checked Keano’s computer much sooner, but I was in such a fucked up place when you ended us. I won’t ever be negligent again when it comes to you.”

  “There’s no need to apologize. Adriano’s taken care of everything. Jordana’s body has been disposed of, and another tech guy checked the computer. There’s no fourth accomplice,” she clarifies, reminding me why I’m fucking in love with her – because she’s refreshingly easygoing when a person has earned her trust. “We’ve both made mistakes and have been stubborn.” Evaluating me, she pauses before continuing, “Do you remember our talk before Carmine saved us?”

  “No. Why?”

  “Nothing. We can discuss it later. I just want to be with you now.”

  “Good, because I feel the same way, Mary,” I admit, as she sinks down onto the chair right beside the bed, scooting close and entwining our hands, and I clasp hers tightly.

  Then she rests her cheek next to my face on the pillow, scratching her nails over my jaw in relaxing circles. In this moment, there’s nothing else I need besides feeling her soft breath hitting my cheek. I need the physical contact to keep me centered.

  “Stay here,” I whisper.

  “As long as I can,” her husky voice rasps.

  Due to my own grogginess and the fact that I’m recovering from surgery, I’m drifting off to the first peaceful sleep I’ve had in two weeks without releasing my grip on Mary’s hand when a disconcerting thought arises.

  What the hell did she mean by as long as I can?

  CHAPTER 46

  Mary

  Henry’s in dreamland while I sit beside his bed and comb back his thick hair, caressing his straight nose and strong jaw. And as I study him, a million thoughts fly through my mind.

  What will happen now? What will he do when he recalls our talk? But the loudest one is, he’s alive.

  While I’m beyond grateful for getting this second chance with the man I love, first and foremost, I want him to concentrate on recuperating, and then we can discuss us. I’ll fight for us, although I haven’t told anyone I might be moving away to Champaign County and I’m not sure how Henry will react.

  Marc informed me that his memory might be off, so hopefully, he’ll remember everything in the coming days, including our talk.

  My head whips to the door when Adriano and Carmine walk inside.

  “Hey. Marc said he woke up,” Adriano says as they stand opposite me.

  “Yeah,” I reply, staring at the rise and fall of Henry’s chest. “He was awake this morning but has been asleep for a couple of hours.”

  Carmine glances at our entangled hands. “Are you going to stay here?”

  “I plan to if they’ll let me, within
visiting hours.”

  “Do you want to stay with him?” Adriano probes, and I look up at them.

  Completely unexpectedly, Carmine then asks, “Do you love him?”

  My stare moves slowly between them. “Yes.”

  “Does he treat you right?” Adriano adds.

  I don’t want to say too much since I don’t know where Henry stands in the Syndicate, and I’m unsure if finding out about Jordana’s involvement too late will have repercussions for him. But I’ll protect him because he almost died to protect me.

  So I reveal the truth, “Yes. And I don’t want there to be any consequences for what happened. We love each other.”

  Adriano’s brows furrow as if he’s surprised. “What consequences? He’s one of us, and that’s why we’re here. The consequences were suffered by Jordana.”

  Thank goodness they don’t know how we screwed up and Henry’s position is secure.

  Carmine comments, “All we wanted to know was if you love him. Because we see the way he looks at you.”

  My eyes round since everyone’s been telling me that and I finally see it too.

  “And I haven’t seen him with anyone else,” Carmine says. “Apparently, you’ve given him what he needs. A man like him always wants more; he just didn’t know he’d found it until he met you.”

  My sweet brother can amaze me every once in a while. “Maybe after you’ve met the girl for you, you’ll change too.”

  Smirking, he counters, “No, no. I just like women and don’t want more.”

  I tilt my head. “Yeah, yeah. You just think with your cock.”

  “Mary!” he scolds, pursing his lips in disgust.

  “Sorry.” I chuckle.

  “Don’t ever...just don’t say that word to me.” He gives me a stern expression, but when Henry stirs, we all focus on him as he smiles cautiously at me first.

  “Henry, two bullets? You’ve been shot more than Adriano,” Carmine remarks. “But good to see you’re all right, man.”

  “Thanks,” he replies, squeezing my hand, and I’m very aware of the heat of his skin.