Married to the Bad Boy(85)
“Okay, he needs a hospital.” I recognize Johnny’s sharp tone and feel a sudden surge of anger toward him.
His strong arm slides across my shoulders, his hand anchoring under my good one as he lifts me upright and we make our way outside, into his car.
“You’re driving me, boss? I’ll get blood all over your seats.”
Elena opens the passenger door for us, her face white. “Get in, Tony.”
I slide inside and she takes the backseat. God, I’m tired. I just want to fall asleep, even though the leather is fucking freezing against my back.
Johnny gets inside and starts the car. It screams as we peel out of there.
“Want to tell me why my wife was forced to go to Les Diables for help?”
A guilty look crosses Johnny’s face. “I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t think anything happened to you. I didn’t—”
“You didn’t believe my wife.” My voice cuts across his and resentment bleeds into my chest. The bullet wounds throb with my rage.
“She didn’t exactly come to me with much proof.”
“Seemed to be enough for the bikers.”
“She paid them—”
“Of course she fucking did, because my own family didn’t think I was good enough to protect. You would have just left me for dead—”
“That’s not true. If I had known, I would have put guys out on the street.”
“You did know. Elena told you.”
He lifts a hand, shrugging as he turns the wheel and takes a left turn. “Nothing she showed me caused me any concern.”
“She’s an extension of myself, and you didn’t believe her? Why the fuck would she lie about something like this?”
“I thought she was being paranoid!” He glowers at me, his young face creased with anger. “I apologize. I didn’t think that fucking moron had the balls to go after you again after Vincent’s warning.”
Whatever.
I groan as the pain in my abdomen feels as if it’s twisting inside me, like a sharp blade digging in my flesh. Elena utters a gasp and threads her fingers through my hair.
“We’re almost there,” she says in a thick voice.
It feels good to have her hands on my skin. I sigh as she caresses my hair, and Johnny gives us a strange look.
“All right, we’re here.”
He slams the brakes and men in white coats dash outside to meet us, rolling a stretcher between them. Johnny opens the door for me and Elena holds her hands to her face, trying to look brave for me.
“Is he—is he going to be okay?”
“I don’t know, ma’am.”
They roll me on the stretcher and I let out a stream of curses as my body flattens on the bed.
“White male, late twenties, multiple gunshot—”
My mind drifts as they wheel me into the hospital, Elena keeping pace with them. She squeezes my hand.
* * *
“He’s not in this hospital. I’ve my guys searching everywhere for him, but looks like the bastard was smart enough to avoid going to one.”
A female voice, distracted. “What does that mean?”
The grim male voice booms out, “It means he’s biding his time. Fuck, maybe he bled out and died in a ditch somewhere. Anyway, I still can’t go to Vincent with this. There’s no proof linking him to the bikers.”
“I don’t fucking believe this!”
Something heavy slams against a metallic object that rattles loudly. My eyes crack open and I feel strangely restricted. My chest pulses and the sensation of a strict bandage over my shoulder explains the feeling. An ice bag sits against my cheek, freezing the skin.
My eyes slide over to John, who stands next to my wife near the window.
“If you won’t kill him, I will.”
They both start when they realize I’m awake. A slow smile pulls at Elena’s lips as she approaches my bed and kisses my forehead. She takes the bag of ice away and looks at me through warm eyes. Perfect love and trust shines through them.
Johnny’s unsmiling face hovers over mine, pulling me irresistibly to the present.
“My hands are fucking tied, but I can’t ignore this. We’ll take care of him.”
“Fuck that, I want to be the one to kill that motherfucker.”
I rip the blanket off my legs and attempt to sit up. My side screams in pain, and Elena pushes me back down. “Don’t be stupid. You’re in no condition.”
“Fuck my condition.”
Johnny grins at me. “Did your wife tell you she shot that asshole?”
What the fuck?
Elena lowers her eyes when I glare at her. “What the fuck is he talking about?”
“I thought you were dead.”
“Elena, what the fuck happened?”