by Kyanna Skye
The man broke up the weed like he’d been doing it every day of his life, then he loaded the pipe and took a puff without even coughing. “It’s been 25 years since I had a good bowl. Told myself it’d be the last thing I ever did. I knew I’d die here, so I figured I’d have a nurse hide some for me, along with this.” He pulled out a syringe filled with amber-colored liquid.
“Now, mind you I was part of the team that started this clinic.” He motioned for a tourniquet and she handed him one. “I get to go how I choose.”
Lana knew that assisted suicide happened all the time. It was a medical secret. There were some wounds so terrible they last for months, even years, eating away at the patient’s stamina. So it’s common practice for a nurse to give a little too much morphine. Doctors fake the death certificate and everything goes the way it’s supposed to. Every hospital in the world does it because people need it.
But watching this man artfully string the tourniquet around his arm gave Lana a queasy feeling. He was going to overdose on heroin in front of her. When he stuck that needle in his vein, she cringed. This wasn’t assisted suicide. This was a man killing himself right in front of her. She’d never seen anyone just casually accept death, much less bring it on themselves. So far her experience with death had been completely confined to people who were going involuntarily, but this was different—sinister. No man should ever violate his natural survival instincts.
Even worse was the soft smile that came over him when the shot hit his veins and his head fell over while he drifted in an amber cloud of medicated bliss. No man could possibly have a more peaceful death. That’s why he did it.
“Stick him back in the OR.” The doctor came up behind her. “The family will want the body.”
“And they’ll be here to pick him up.” The thought of men from a rival gang coming to the clinic stopped her dead.
“It’s a neutral place and has been treated as such for more than a decade. Now hurry up. There’s a female patient and she needs buckshot removed.”
Lana rushed from person to person, saving some, losing others, and the stream of men kept on coming and coming. She wore two masks so nobody could see her face. This time, she wasn’t taking the risk. This was a war with heavy losses on both sides, and that would mean more bloodshed. Things could get worse.
“How are we going to help all of these people? What if it gets worse?” Lana was at the washing station, sanitizing her hands before she went home.
“We can’t help all of them. This room is all we have. It’s gruesome every time it gets like this. Sometimes the Carters and Lorentz have to come to take their men and dispose of them for fear anyone seeing the bodies in the parking lot, and more than one man has been left die to help the others, even when he could’ve been saved. Now,” he turned to her, “can you handle this?”
“I’m involved with Tony Carter.”
“Should a mark be put on your head or you compromise the safety of this clinic in any way, you will be let go immediately. Is that understood?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Go.” He ushered her out.
Chapter 14
Lana didn't care that the blisters on her heels from running around the hospital were grating against her shoes, or that her body was screaming.
No.
She had just spent the entire day watching people lined up to die and she was going to get some answers. She raced up the cliffs and nearly drove her car off the road trying to make it past a twist. Why were those people there? What was happening? She wasn't going to believe the former leader of a rival gang. The old man could've easily been lying about whether or not she was in danger.
Words she never wanted to hear passed through her mind. War. Massacre. Blood feud.
That's what this would turn into when things came to a head. People were going to be surrounding the clinic, their bloody hands streaming against the windows, bodies filling the incinerator to capacity, all because of some stupid plants.
The entire time, she'd be running around, trying to clean up the losses of some stupid war she wasn't even supposed to ask about. Well, this was psychotic. She was ready to turn right around get out of town if she didn't get some answers.
She didn't care that they were gangsters. That was nothing. What she cared about was whether or not something was going on that would put her in danger, and no matter what anyone told her, she didn't have anything concrete that ensured her safety.
Tony could fight. He could probably handle a weapon, but if an entire troop of those men came to his door, he would die, and she'd have to live without ever knowing what it meant to be with him—to go running around naked on an island or fly in a private jet. Most of all, she would never know the joy of waking up to him for the rest of her life.
She loved him. She couldn't say it out loud. It would be the ultimate form of submission. The second she told Tony she loved him, he would have complete control of her. He could get her to do anything with a look. She couldn't love this man because he was in danger, and if she lost him she knew that she wasn't going to be the same.
The wound would grow and eat at her until she festered. Life would become meaningless, and she would just roll through the motions until she couldn't any longer. She didn't want to wait to die, sitting in front of a TV like the patients at Sunset Boulevards. She wanted to really live and experience life.
The only way she was going to live was if she stayed with Tony. Otherwise, she'd be stuck grinding away for nothing. Or she could leave, forget the whole episode, and take the heartache before it became completely overwhelming. Maybe she could leave. There would be crying fits, and some depression, but nursing jobs were in demand enough for her to get a job fast.
What if she showed up there and there were men surrounding the house, ready to burst in and kill him? The patriarch of the Lorrentz family was shot. That meant that the higher ups, the men who ran the gang, were probably being singled out and killed.
Men like that wouldn't stop at the head of the gangs. They would go for their family, their children, and most of all their sons—the heirs to their empires. Pure dread poured down and settled in her gut. They were going to go after Tony.
She didn't care about death, not if she were being truly honest with herself. Lana cared more about what happened to Tony, and if the heads of the gangs were being killed, then he was in danger. He couldn't just hide this kind of thing from her.
She would leave if she had to. She would do it. He couldn't keep her in the dark, leaving her worrying every second of every day that she'd wake up and find him cold and pale. They'd burn him in the incinerator like the rest of the bodies, or cover his body in paint and display it at an open casket.
Nobody who loves somebody the way she loved him should ever face that kind of loss. If he wouldn't tell her what was going on, she'd have to leave Tony, because every time she closed her eyes, she saw his, glazed over facing hers with pale, blue skin.
She squealed her tires, pulling into the gravel lot, and slammed on the gas right before she reached the front. He jumped out of the house before she could get out of her car. When he was on her with his arms wrapped around her shoulders, she knew that she could never leave the man.
She backed up, slapped him in the face, and screamed, “You're going to tell me why I just saw two dozen men die today.”
“No.” He turned back around and walked into the house.
“Oh, no you don't!” She grabbed his arm and he whipped around so fast she nearly fell over.
“This fight is over!” He seemed ten times larger.
“No.” She stood on the doorstep. “It's not.” That took courage with him so close to her. He was so hot she could feel it coming off him. “You have no idea what I've just been through. Death after death. We had to have somebody man the incinerator so they could constantly throw bodies in. I watched a man with his eye socket blown out screaming while we took care of the patients that needed us more than he did. He died from blood loss. W
e don't have any blood left at all and right now there are people swarming the clinic with their gut spilling out in the parking lot because they are so full they don't have enough beds for critical patients. I have never been more disturbed in my entire life.” She lifted her foot, and threw her shoe off, slamming him in the face with it. “And these shoes! Digging in my heels.” She stepped forward, barefoot, and stared the beast head on. He stepped back.
She had power over him too. He cared enough that she could hurt him, just like he could hurt her.
“Now you are going to tell me exactly what is going on.”
He turned around and walked back outside while she followed him into the ruins, down a twisting staircase that turned out to be made of ancient wood beams embedded into an adobe column.
“What are you doing?” Lana stepped forward to see him huddled over what looked like a blast door.
“Opening this.” He pressed his hands against the adobe wall beside it and the surface changed from a patch of stucco into a black tablet that ran a green line over his hand. Upon closer inspection, the surface was smooth and the tablet was displaying fake rock.
The sound of hydraulics signaled the opening of the foot-thick metallic door.
“What is this?”
He stopped and turned around, blocking the entrance. “Not one word we say in here, not one single thing you see ever leaves this chamber. Understood?”
Lana nodded her head and he stepped aside to reveal a cinderblock hall lined with glass cases holding every weapon imaginable, from assault rifles to miniature missile launchers. Lining the floors were cases and cases of grenades.
As they descended further underground, Lana noticed that the entire hall, which was more of a tunnel was filled with guns. There were also boxes of ammunition sitting on top the grenade cases. She could only imagine the kind of power these weapons were capable of. They reached another blast door at the bottom of the tunnel and walked into another hall filled with weapons cases. On the right, there was another door, but the tunnel led further down.
“What's there?”
“Security. You will be given a direct line to them in case anything happens. You're completely safe here. There are dozens of men walking the perimeter. Motion detectors, cameras everywhere, and an arsenal large enough to an arm a militia.”
“Where does this go?” She pointed out into the tunnel.
He turned back around and started down the path. She sighed and rushed to catch up with him. There were another blast door and a tunnel with ammunition. As they walked farther down, motion-sensing lights lit up. The bottom was starting to come into view.
“Oh, this is amazing.” The bottom opened into a decorated living area. There was a modern kitchen, a bathroom, even WiFi.
“I figured if I was going to build a bomb shelter, I might as well do it right. It's fully self-sustainable.”
“What is this?” Lana walked into a room sitting just off the kitchen. When the light came on, Lana found a glass case with what looked like a mechanical arm inside. Beside it was blocks of solid metal. Lana recognized copper sitting in the corner.
“This is the 3d printer, a work in progress. When I'm finished, it will use molten metal along with a top-of-the-line robotic arm capable of printing electronic components. For now, it can do everything else, from cookware to sculptures, even food.”
“Food?”
“Yep, it even bakes.”
“Why do you have all this?” Lana walked back into the living room.
“Because I might need it someday.”
“What happened?”
He sat down on the couch next to her. “Some of the Lorrentz got together and planned an unsanctioned raid. It sparked off a street war when it happened. Men called for backup and it turned into a complete massacre.”
“So what's going to happen now?”
“The heads of the families are signing a peace treaty and decrying the attack as a bunch of idiots acting against orders. It won't stop all the killing, but things will even out after a while. There will be an influx at the clinic. I will talk to my father about using another location.”
“I watched Jean Lorrentz die. If he was killed, then they might start coming after us.”
“He was shot by accident. It was a Lorrentz that did it.”
“Oh.”
“He shifted around so he could face her. “Could you please stop freaking out? You're safe.”
She shot up off the couch and leaned in. “You got shot!” She was right in his face.
“It had nothing to do with this.”
“Why!?” She screamed so hard she could feel the muscles in her neck clenching.
“It is not your business.” He remained calm, completely undaunted by her violent outburst.
“I'm leaving you if you don't tell me. I can't live like this. You keep telling me there's no danger, and that I'm fine. But I need to know that you're safe. That's all I care about, and I don't think I can live like this, worrying all the time, huddled up in a shelter. And how do I know you're safe when you won't even tell me why somebody shot you?”
“You're not leaving,” he declared definitively. “Admit it. You can't leave me.” He stood up to meet her, with his body heat so high it licked at her like tiny flames. “Admit it.” He cocked his head. “Admit you can't leave me.”
She was never going to say it.
“We both know it, Lana. You love me.” He might as well have torn off her clothes. Even worse, he could see through her.
“You love me and you know that I love you and you will never leave me. Say it.” He moved forward. “You're going to be with me. You're gonna do everything you ever wanted to do and lay all day on that bed with me. And we are going to be happy,” his voice broke, “I am not under siege. I never will be. What you don't understand is I'm not involved. Both families know it. They won't touch me.” He gently rested his hand on her lower back. “It was the first time I ever got shot.”
“Why did you get shot?” She stepped back and threw his arm off her.
“For a woman.”
She turned around and ran out.
“Whoa!” He grabbed her arm. “Why does it bother you so much? That's the heart of it. Get it out.”
“To think that you could care about another woman so much that you'd get shot for her I—”
She had tears flying down her cherry-red face when he tilted her chin up. “I'd never get shot for that woman. Never cared about her. You can rest assured that you are the only woman I'd take a bullet for.”
He let her head rest against his chest. “I love you, Tony.” There, he had complete control of her.
“I love you too.” He pulled her in tighter while she sobbed, purging herself of the day's experience, the men, the blood, and the screams. They left her when he melted into him. With Tony, she had to give everything up. Once she did, and she told him how she felt, she could truly be with him.
“We're gonna stay together, aren't we?” he asked while they walked up above ground.
“Yes.”
He squeezed her hand. “You've never seen the world, just a small, bland corner. I'm going to show you. I'm going to give you designer gowns every car, and yacht you could imagine. Do you have any idea what I'm capable of doing, Lana?”
“I know, but I won't fully understand until we get there.”
“We are there.”
Lana turned back up the stairs for him to follow. He couldn't be fully reassured. When she met him, he had a hole in his arm. She needed to know why. Over a woman? What woman? And why would he get shot over her if he didn't really care about her? Maybe he did. It happens, but lovers never want to think about their lover’s past.
Still, he was behind her, there for the moment, and if she couldn't be certain they were safe, she would savor the moments she had. She told him she loved him and now she couldn't leave him. So she was stuck with her worries and an overpowering lover.
Chapter 15
That night,
they meshed together, sweat and passion, curled in a ball underneath the blankets. Lana just wanted to be closer to him. But she didn't feel like she could get close enough, regardless of her efforts. Tony was familiar. Lana knew every part of him, and the sound of his voice—even how he worked, but there was still a thick wall between them.
She threw the covers off and got up. Maybe she was being selfish. Maybe Lana didn't know anything about Tony's past, but there was no way he was giving it up. She pulled a bullet out of man's arm, for Christ's sake.
It wasn't just the trauma of him getting shot or even her worries about his safety. Tony was hiding something big from her, and he had a reason for being so adamant against telling her about it. He wasn't hiding mafia business. They had a code of silence; that would make sense.
No.
He had a personal reason why he didn't want to tell her about the gunshot, and that was more insulting. He had to tell her, and she was going to get it out of him. They had time. She walked into the shower and started lathering up.
With Jean telling her to take precautions about being seen at the clinic, there was no way that Lana was going home, or even out of the house. This was the safest place she could be.
She walked out naked and poked Tony while he was sleeping. He rolled over, a huge tent sticking up out of the covers. “I need something to wear.”
He sat up. “Why?” he asked drowsily.
“I'm not going home with this crap going on. I'm staying right here.”
He hopped up with his cock sticking right out of his boxers. “Well, what size are you?”
She blushed. “Ten.”
He pulled his phone off the charger and pulled up an app. “What do you want to wear? Something casual like jeans?” He was streaming through a photo album.
“Why do have so many girl's clothes?” She ripped the phone out of his hand.
“I like my women to have nice things without having to send out for them.”
“Oh.” She wished she hadn't asked.
“Well, let me see.” She held her hand out for her phone and flicked past image after image of cocktail dresses, casual wear—anything she could think of. Her eye did stop for a moment on a casual, white dress with floral print.