Gio’s arms encircled me and then lifted me.
I just wanted to go to sleep, right here, against his warmth. So I did.
24
GIO
I paced the room while the doctor finished stitching up Emilia. I knew she was fine. I’d had enough men take a bullet to the shoulder to know that, but the tightness in my chest wouldn’t ease.
She looked awful, with the blood and the bruising around her broken nose.
That wasn’t what had me descending into blind rage, though. He had shot her, taken her while I was pinned down by bullets and unable to do anything but watch my bleeding wife being dragged away. All of that made me want to end him as painfully as possible, but what sent me over the edge was her bottom lip and the clear bite mark that had broken her smooth skin.
The only thing that tempered my rage was finding out that the piece of shit was alive. By the time I was done, Matteo was going to wish she’d shot him in the head just like his driver.
I lingered against the wall, seething, waiting for the doctor to finish.
She finally taped a dressing in place and gave me some pills, along with instructions to ice Emilia’s re-set nose. Then the doc left.
Emilia leaned her head back against the pillow and glanced at me. “I’m fine, Gio.” She wasn’t fine, though. She was bruised, covered in blood. If that bullet had been just a little lower… The thought had a lump settling in my throat.
They had tried to take her from me, and of all the things Sergio had done, this was by far the worst. My fists clenched at my sides, and I needed a second, so I went to the bathroom and got a washcloth, then took one of my T-shirts from the closet.
When I took a seat on the edge of the bed, Emilia leaned forward, allowing me to remove her bloodstained shirt. No argument, as though she knew I just needed to take care of her right now.
“I promise I’m okay, Gio,” she whispered as I swiped the damp cloth over her bloody chest.
“You could have died, Emilia.” I continued wiping the blood away, moving the cloth to her face. My gaze dropped to her lip. “He bit you.”
She looked away, shame washing her features.
“Did he kiss you?”
“I tried to stop it,” she whispered.
Rage tore through me like a wildfire, and I felt like my heart was going to claw its way out of my chest; it was beating so hard. I cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead, trying to maintain a thread of calm. “I know. It’s okay, piccola.”
“Is he dead?” she whispered.
“Not yet.” He would be fucking soon, though. I was going to enjoy hurting Romano, cutting him up bit by bit.
“I…I have to tell you something.”
There was a moment, a single horrific moment where I could hardly breathe, where I thought she might tell me that he had touched her, forced her. That I didn’t get to her fast enough—
“In the motel room, the man who put the gun to my head…” She sucked in an unsteady breath. “Sergio didn’t send him. He said, ‘Matteo said, if he can’t have you, no one can.’”
Which meant Matteo went off-book. Sergio didn’t try to kill his unruly niece. Matteo Romano tried to kill the woman he couldn’t have.
I tugged my shirt over her body and kissed her cheek, then her lips, being careful not to hurt her bruised face. “You should have told me.”
She nodded, dropping her gaze to the comforter. “I didn’t want you to send me back there where they’d give me to him. But if you thought Sergio would kill me…”
“Piccola.” I pressed a finger beneath her chin. “I never would have sent you back. Not for any reason.”
“I know that now,” she breathed.
I brushed my thumb over her bruised lip, taking in her swollen nose and the black eyes already beginning to form. “I’m going to repay every one of these bruises.”
“It’s kind of my fault. I shot the driver.” The pain killers were starting to kick in, and her words slurred slightly, her eyelids drooping.
“Sleep, amore mio.”
“I love you,” she mumbled as she burrowed into the pillow, her eyes already closed.
“I love you, piccola.” She had no idea how much.
I got up and left the room, passing the two guards I’d stationed outside, more from paranoia than practicality.
Jackson was waiting downstairs, right outside the basement door. And he wasn’t alone. Renzo paused in his pacing when I approached them, and he looked every bit as wild and unhinged as I felt. I might not always have seen eye to eye with the kid, but one thing was irrefutable; he loved Emilia.
“How is she?” he asked.
“Doctor stitched her up and gave her pain killers. She’s sleeping.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the weight of my failure. I let that fucker get her. “Renzo… I’m sorry. I didn’t protect her—”