Deep(20)

Ben nodded. “I saw him. I heard a woman was hurt. But not Vanessa.”



Vanessa had dumped him via text the day before. At the time, he’d considered getting angry on the grounds of disrespect, but he’d decided it wasn’t worth the energy. Frankly, a text was the least dramatic breakup he could think of. She’d written, I don’t think we’re working out. I think it’s time to move on. With those thinks, he was sure she’d meant for him to react, had probably hoped to wrest some kind of desire to reconcile from him, but he’d only replied, Agreed, and let it go at that. It had barely caused a ripple in his day.



“No. Not Vanessa. My neighbor. They took her for X-rays.” Ben gave him a keen look but didn’t probe further. That was good, because Nick wasn’t ready to think about the sense of responsibility he felt toward Beverly. Yes, he was attracted to her. Yes, he was fascinated by her totally open and bright personality, which was the antithesis of his own. Yes, watching her dance at Neon, the lithe, confident way she’d moved her body, dancing for herself and no one else, for the simple enjoyment of it, had made him uncomfortably hard. And yes, he was responsible for her being hurt tonight. But none of that accounted for how difficult it had been to leave her side when the paramedics took over.



He would think about all that later. He’d have time, and he’d have cause, because now he was responsible for her. He had to keep her safe. They were connected now, at least as long as Church was a problem. There were probably hundreds of photographs of them together, lying on the sidewalk. Matty had already shown him that an image of him leaning over her, kissing her hand, accompanied the lead story of the bombing on the local newspaper website.



Uncle Ben let it drop. “Does this change our plans for next week? Your thoughts?”



Monday was the meeting of The Council. The heads of all the families were meeting to confer on the problem of Alvin Church, and so that the Paganos could seek permission and help from the Marconi family to deal in their neighborhood with Jackie Stone.



“No, Uncle. Our plans should proceed unchanged. It’s more important than ever, now.”



“Agreed.” The old man sighed. Nick was struck again by how used up he looked on this night, pulled from his sleep too early and without the time he needed to prepare for the world. He put his hand on his heart. “Jimmy was a good man.”



“He was.” Jimmy had been driving and guarding Nick for years. He’d had no aspirations beyond that job. Being made had been the highlight of his life, above even his marriage or the births of his children, but he had wanted nothing more than to protect a man he’d admired. He had killed in the service of his job. He had maimed. But he’d told Nick that his favorite part was driving Nick around, talking. They’d gotten to know each other well over the years.



“Who told Tina?”



“I sent Nose over. I called while he was there.” It wasn’t the first time he’d had to deliver that kind of news to a wife.



“All right.” Ben struggled to his feet, and Nick stood, too. “I’m going to sit with Brian’s mother. What is her name?”



“Pauline.”



“Pauline, yes. We’ll talk more about the girl. For now, keep her safe.”



“I will, Uncle.” They embraced, and Ben went off with Bobbo toward the elevators.





~oOo~





Nick knew most of the staff at St. Gabriel’s Hospital, in Quiet Cove, and they knew him. Here in this huge medical center in Providence, though, he was much more anonymous, and most of the staff, dealing with the bombing casualties, were unimpressed. But one nurse knew who he was and knew well what side she should keep him on. He’d identified her quickly and exploited her respect so that he had free access to Beverly.



Shit. He didn’t even know her last name. He figured one of their digital intel specialists had logged it somewhere; they kept basic track of the administration’s neighbors. He’d have to find it out soon.



Paige—the smart nurse—called him back when Beverly was out of X-ray and gave him an update on her condition. She was in a lot of pain, but not badly hurt. Bruised ribs, a mild concussion, and some pretty bad scrapes, especially her cheek and elbow. Nothing was broken, though, and nothing required stitches. He thanked her and went back to Beverly’s little room.



She was propped up on the gurney, a white bandage over her right cheek and another around her right elbow. Her hair was loose over her shoulders. Her eyes were closed, her breathing shallow.



“Bella.” Interesting how easily an endearment came to his lips. It wasn’t a habit of his, calling people by something other than their name or title, other than a casual ‘coz’ or ‘bro.’ When he’d called her bella, all unthinking, at Neon, her eyes had lit up beautifully and her smiling face had nearly glowed. He’d enjoyed having that effect on her.