“Needles, we need to draw blood, grab an IV.”
“We doing this here?” Chase closed his eyes, muttering under his breath before running back into the storage room where we kept weapons and drugs—the good kind.
My hands shook as I cradled Mo’s pale face. “Baby, can you hear me?”
She moaned.
Nixon slammed his hand into the wall as more blood poured from her leg. “Stop the bleeding, damn it!”
“I’m trying!” Sergio yelled right back, his hands covered in my wife’s blood. Red, a color that used to comfort me, bring me peace, was finally bringing me death.
“No.” I shook my head and kissed Mo’s face. “No, you gotta fight, baby! Okay? You have to fight!” There was so much blood it was impossible to tell where the wound even was.
“Needles.” Chase threw them at me; I caught them midair and grabbed the rubber band, tightening it with my mouth as I wrapped it around my bicep. The sting of the needle was nothing compared to the horror I witnessed in front of me.
“You better hope to God you have enough blood to give her before you pass out too.” Sergio didn’t bother putting on gloves as he shot Mo with morphine directly into her thigh.
“God’s never been on my side,” I mumbled, as I watched the blood pull from my body into the needle.
“Well, you better hope He is now.” Sergio moved his hands to Mo’s chest. “Because she’s losing consciousness, she’s lost too much blood.”
“Mo!” I yelled as Sergio leaned down and pressed his ear against her mouth. He cursed as he whispered something in her ear. She moaned and shook her head, her eyes opened and then closed again.
I swear I stepped outside my body and watched my soul start to crumble into thin air. “God, I’ll do anything to save her. Take me instead, take the evil, purge the evil, leave the angels where they belong.” I continued pulling, pulling vial after vial of blood, my knees shaking as weakness took hold. Finally Nixon put his hand on my arm and whispered for me to stop. Damn, I was going to bleed myself dry for that woman if I had to.
Minutes ticked by, they may as well have been hours. The De Langes finally burst through the door. Stephen took one look at Mo and jumped into action, his hands moving across her wound as if he already had the injury memorized. He sighed in relief at the wound. “It’s not her femoral artery but a large vein was hit, she’ll be fine.” He pressed his hands tighter against her leg, “Sore, but fine. If we don’t’ stop the bleeding she’ll die, but I imagine you guys already knew that.” Swearing, he removed one hand and reached for the forceps. “I need someone with steady hands.”
I moved to his side. “Tell me what to do.”
“Okay,” he said pressing my hands against her actual wound. “I need to remove the bullet but it’s going to keep bleeding so I need you to keep your hands pressed against this every time I remove my hands, the minute I pull the bullet you press against the wound as hard as you can manage without breaking her leg. Think you can do that?”
“Yeah.” I croaked. “I can do that.”
His hands moved so fast it was almost a blur. Within ten minutes she was breathing normal again, the bleeding had all but stopped but my hands? They were frozen in that spot, terrified that if I moved even an inch, if I even breathed wrong, it would end her life.
“Sergio.” Stephen coughed. “Need those hands of yours, sew her up.”
Sergio moved forward, hands trembling as he took the needle and thread and began sewing everything closed.
“You can remove your hands now, Tex.” Stephen’s voice was rough, exhausted.
Nodding, I pulled my hands free. They were coated in her blood. It may as well have been mine—if she died, I would die too. There was nothing else to it. No other option.
“Thank you,” I said hoarsely.
Stephen sighed and looked around the room. “You guys are in some deep shit, you know that right?”
“Where is she?” Luca burst into the room followed by six men and of course Frank Alfero, Trace’s, Grandpa, and boss to the Alfero family.
“Aw, a reunion.” I grimaced. “Nice.”
“Mo?” Luca moved to the table. “Who is responsible for this?”
Everyone fell silent. Blood was everywhere.
Finally Trace answered. “Tex’s Uncle.”
“Alfonso Campisi?” Luca said in a horrified voice, his face getting redder by the second.
“So much for that vacation.” Frank pulled out his cell phone.
“Wait!” Nixon held out his hand. “What are you doing?”
“I think it’s time…” Frank’s hands had a slight tremble to them as he put the phone to his ear. “Call to order.”
The room fell silent again while Frank closed his eyes and whispered, “Not just our family—we need all of them. Now.”
“All of them?” Nixon and I shouted.
Luca held up his hand.
“Twenty four hours.” Frank sighed. “We meet here. It is time for the arms to come together.”
“Please tell me he’s not doing what I think he’s freaking doing.” Nixon pushed against Luca’s chest. But Luca didn’t move.
“What?” Luca spat. “Get a hold of yourself son. We rise together, we fall together. You die, we eventually die, it is the only choice.”
“What is?” I asked, apparently the only one brave enough to do so.
“He’s calling a commission,” Nixon said in a hollow voice. “The first since eighty five… the first since the old bosses returned to Sicily.”
“Meaning…” I swallowed. “The FBI is going to have a freaking field day.”
“I’d pay to be at the airport.” Chase nodded. “Freaking pay for someone to record that shit.”
“Campisi better hope Mo lives,” Luca said quietly. “Otherwise, there will be no need for a meeting at all.”
“What makes you say that?” Trace asked while Frank hung up the phone.
“Tex…” Luca nodded in my direction. “She dies, you have my permission, from one family to another. One blood to the next.” He approached me slowly then kissed each of my cheeks. “My blessing—you may cleanse the line, son. And I’ll help you do it.”
“Damn it.” Nixon slammed his hand against the counter top.
“Regardless.” I looked around the room. “We’re going to war.”
“Yes.” Frank took a step towards me and put his hand on my shoulder. “I believe we are.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
They say that each time you go under the knife, you never come back the same as before you went under.
Mo
T
HE LAST THING
I remembered was pain, severe pain, and so much blood that I ended up passing out after Sergio whispered in my ear that Tex needed me. At least I think he whispered that. I may have dreamed it up all things considered. I still felt pain, but it was more of a heaviness in my chest, like I was paralyzed, unable to move. Panicking, I tried to wiggle free but couldn’t budge.
Open your eyes!
I tried. Then I moaned and tried a second time.
“Mo, shhh.” Tex. I’d recognize that voice anymore. It was the same voice that told me to fight, the one that called me baby. God, I’d missed that voice. It seemed now when he talked to me every word was clipped, filled with rage, at what I did, at the situation, at me. I fought tears. Fought and failed as they slid down my cheeks.
“Open your eyes, baby.”
I sniffled and then slowly, my eyes opened, they took a while to adjust to the darkness of the room—my room, the one I had been sharing with Tex. I blinked a few times, embarrassed that I’d been silently crying.
Tex sighed, his rough fingers slowly wiping the tears from my cheeks. His mouth descended, first kissing my forehead, and then hovering over my lips, asking for permission. Waiting to see if I’d turn away or lean forward.
It took every ounce of strength I possessed to move—but I was able to do it, I mean to the naked eye it probably looked like I blinked, but Tex saw. And that was all that mattered.
His mouth touched mine, softly, his tongue caressing my lips then slowly entering. It was the most tender kiss I could ever remember him giving me, like he was afraid that I would break.
“Are you in pain?” he murmured against my lips.
I shook my head, then found my voice and said hoarsely, “No.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
My eyebrows drew together. Blood. I’d been shot. But who was it? What bastard would dare? My entire body trembled.
“It’s okay, shh.” Tex wrapped his body around mine, pulling me into the cocoon of his warmth. “He’s already dead.”
“You killed him?”
“Not yet.” Tex’s teeth ground together. “But I imagine I’ll have a few volunteers when the time comes. We’ll tag team it.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Like hunting a deer.” Tex chuckled. “We’ll spray paint a giant-ass target on his back and then fight for first shot.”
“Me.” Shivers rocked me. “I get first shot.”
“Aw, baby, I was always going to give you first shot, but I figured you’d want to wound him before we set him loose in the field.”
“Knives to both thighs or maybe just snapping his Achilles in half so that he can’t run? Yeah that sounds good.”
Tex froze behind me.
“What?” I shivered again, cuddling closer to him, my back pressed so tightly against his chest I could feel his heartbeat.
“Nothing,” he choked out. “I just hate that I’m that freaking turned on by talks of violence.”
“It’s the knives.” I swallowed. “Guys like sharp things.”
“Guys like big things.” Tex ran his hand down my left arm, his fingertips dancing against my skin. “Shiny things too. Ones with dark hair, and bright eyes. Things that have dirty little mouths and kick ass habits toward gory acts of violence.”
“Hey that’s me,” I teased.
“How are you really feeling?”
I sighed and closed my eyes. “Tired. Upset. Irritated.”
“I can get more drugs—”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “They make my body feel heavy.”
“I may have fallen asleep on your chest, my head’s kind of heavy on account that it’s filled with so much knowledge.”
I laughed. It felt so good that the giggling almost turned into full on sobbing. Tex hadn’t joked with me in a year.
A freaking year.
And he was being his old self.
Funny, the gentle giant with killer instincts.
“Knowledge huh?” I prodded leaning into his warm body. “You sure about that?”
“Oh I’m positive.” Tex nodded. “What else would be in there to make it so heavy?”
“You want me to answer that or just leave it?”
Tex smirked and leaned in. “Is that your way of asking if I want you to taunt and tease me or are you just looking for an excuse to run your fingers through my hair?”
“Guilty?” I said a bit breathless.
He laughed again. My gut clenched.
I hated that it wouldn’t last long.
I knew the clock was ticking—I wasn’t sure if his good mood would leave as soon as I was healthy or if I was just being gifted with his smiles now because he was so terrified I was going to die.
With a grunt, I managed to turn on my side, I needed to look at his face—gain courage by reminding myself why I loved him.
“Tex?” I whispered, unable to tangle my legs with him because one was so huge it was probably its own planet, I managed to lay my head against his chest for a brief second before concentrating on his full lips.
“What?” His voice was ragged, his breathing came out in spurts like he was running a race and losing every second he didn’t suck in enough air.
“Kiss me again.”
“Mo—” His dark blue eyes heated to black within seconds. “This can’t change anything. I’m not—”
“So it changes nothing.” I shrugged, even though my heart screamed
this changes everything!
“I won’t stop.” He leveled me with his glare, then his lips formed a sensual smile. “I don’t think I have it in me. Thank God the bullet only hit a vein making you bleed like crazy, but any closer to your artery and you could have died—
would
have died.”
“So.” I tugged his lower lip with my teeth. “Make it all better?”
“Damn it, Mo.” Tex reached for my arms bracing his body above mine. “You’re injured!”
“Fine.” I sighed, right like I ever gave up that easily. “Do me a favor then?”
“Anything,” he vowed his hands cupping my face with such tenderness I almost burst into tears.
“Did they bring my shopping bags in?”
“Yeah, why?” His eyes narrowed.
“Get them for me?” I asked innocently.
With a shrug he got off the bed and walked over to the first bag, I lifted up on my elbows. “Not that one.”
He lifted the pink Victoria’s Secret bag into the air.
“That one.” I suddenly felt nervous. “I bought some new PJ’s. Grab them?”
Tex brought the bag over to the bed and started rummaging through the tissue. His hands froze.
He looked away, then back down at the bag, then away. With a curse he wiped his face with his hands and just continued to stare.
“Well?” I urged.
“Those…” His voice was a mere growl. “…are not pajamas.”
“Of course they are!” I argued with a triumphant grin “The sales lady told me so.”
He took a steadying breath, closing his eyes as he pressed his hands on either side of the bed, next to my feet.
“So?” I licked my lips. “Help me put one on?”
“Hell, no.” He tossed the bag onto the floor. “Why would I put something on you that I’m just going to rip off within two seconds?”
“And you know how I hate it when you ruin new clothes.”
He threw his head back and laughed. God I missed that sound. “Right, I would hate to ruin anything for the Mafia princess. What type of husband would I be if I ruined all your clothes?”
“What type of husband would you be if you didn’t give your wife what she needed?”
“Oh, so now you need me for my body?” Tex grumbled, still in good humor.
“No.” I gripped his t-shirt and pulled him closer. “I just want you for sex.”
“Damn, can we put this in writing?” He teased, his mouth nipping mine.
“If it makes you feel better.” I gasped as his hands moved underneath my t-shirt inching up my sensitive skin.
“But—” His hands stopped. “Mo, I’m serious. This can’t change anything. I’m still upset.”
“So pretend you aren’t…” My voice shook. “Pretend for five damn minutes that your hate doesn’t match your love. Pretend you don’t have ten mil on your head. Pretend I’m not Nixon’s sister.”