Chapter 10

CHAPTERTEN

AFTER BREAKFAST, AND with nothing to do, Luca decided to get a better look at his surroundings. If anything was supposed to be off-limits, Chef didn’t mention it, and Luca figured if there was anywhere he wasn’t supposed to be, he’d be told real quick. Even with the guy’s seemingly friendly demeanor, Luca didn’t trust Chef. How could he? Chef was clearly in on whatever this was.

Luca walked over to the window in the main living area, the one that seemed to be about two floors high. It looked so different in the daylight, without the glittering lights of the city below. Instead it all looked harsh, too bright, too normal for what was happening in Luca’s world. All those people below, going to jobs, doing touristy things, walking by without a care in the world, and he had no way to get their attention, no way to call out for help.

God, there had to be a way. Somewhere in this place there had to be a phone or something that could help him.

He looked over his shoulder to where Chef was still banging around in the kitchen cleaning up, and then scanned the room. He’d already walked through the dining area, where nothing but a long white table and chairs sat empty and pristine, as though they were rarely, if ever, used. The living room contained several modern couches and chairs—again with the creams—and other than a handful of trinkets, there was nothing of use there either. But maybe where Dom slept…

With Chef preoccupied, Luca took the opportunity to head upstairs. Surely in a place this size there had to be something that would tell him who Dom or the people connected to him were.

At the top of the stairs was another seating area, a smaller version of the one downstairs, along with a meeting table. It didn’t take him long to realize there was nothing for him there, not even a hidden button under the table for emergencies.

Or maybe he’d just seen too many thrillers.

Down the hall he went, going into each and every bedroom, all of them similar to his, but none of them sparing any detail about its owner. Even the room set up as an office had just a desk, chair, fireplace, and a couple of sculptures. No drawers. No phone, no printer. Just like the rest of the place, it was extravagant but completely devoid of anything personal. There wasn’t one picture, one rogue notebook, nothing that suggested it was a home where Dom or anyone lived. It felt more like a stopover, or in Luca’s case, a place for hostages, masquerading as a luxurious hotel room.

Luca cursed in frustration, heading back to his room, and noticed the door at the end of the hall. Was that where Dom stayed?

Even though Chef had said Dom was out, Luca’s heart still raced as he reached for the knob—only to find the door locked.

He twisted again, but no, this was the one locked door in the entire place, which meant it definitely had secrets behind it. But before he could begin to think of how to get inside, shouts sounded from downstairs.

Something was wrong. Hell, everything was wrong, but the voices of alarm had Luca racing down the hall to see what was happening.

He leaned over the glass banister, catching a glimpse of several men he’d seen before and one he hadn’t. Loud voices rose, one over the other, and he could only make out the words “shot” and “Fiores” over the stream of curses.

Wait, did someone get shot? Who?

Luca saw Chef running to the dining table, towels in hand, but couldn’t see past the backs of the terror twins. As quietly as he could, he ran down the stairs to get a better look, and as he peeked around the corner, the reason for the chaos became clear.

Dom stood in the center of the group, blood soaking through his left sleeve. Even pale and obviously headed toward shock from the blood loss, he looked no less in command, especially when he let out a piercing whistle that had the rest of the men shutting up.

“Let’s not make this a big fucking deal,” he said as he dropped into one of the seats at the table. “Help me get this off.”

Chef took charge, carefully unbuttoning Dom’s shirt and starting to remove it. When he reached the bloody sleeve, Dom grunted in pain, clenching his jaw, but seconds later, the shirt was off.

Chef grabbed a wet towel, wiping off some of the blood. “I think the bullet just grazed you, but this is pretty fuckin’ nasty. We should call Doc.”

“We don’t need to call Doc,” Dom said. “If there’s no bullet, it’s not that bad.”

“Uh, it sure as shit looks that bad. This gash is deep, man.”

“Just put a fucking Band-Aid on it.”

“It needs more than a Band-Aid, Dom.”

“Then get the first-aid kit and figure it out. There’s no need to call Doc for this.”

From where he stood, even Luca could see that Dom’s injury needed more than a patch, and in that moment, a switch was flipped. He was no longer watching someone he hated—he was back in medical school, analyzing and coming up with how to fix someone who needed help. Before Luca realized what he was doing, the side of him that lived to be a doctor took over and he called out, “Wait.”

All eyes turned toward Luca, and he swallowed when he saw they weren’t all friendly ones.

He stepped forward anyway, holding his hand out. “If you don’t call someone to do it right, it’s going to get infected. And it’ll definitely leave a bad scar.”

As they all stared him down, Luca swallowed, wondering why the hell he’d bothered to say anything. Damn the fact that his instincts had taken over. He didn’t care whether Dom’s arm got infected or not. It wasn’t his business. Hell, if the arm fell off, it’d be better for Luca.

Good job, genius.

Dom’s eyes narrowed on Luca, and even through what had to be terrible pain, he smirked. “Ah, yes. Gentlemen, did you know we have a doctor in training on our hands?”

“Is that right?” Chef said.

“It is.” Dom raised a brow. “You think you could do a better job than one of my guys?”

Oh shit. “I-I just meant you should call the Doc person if they can help.”

“We’re not wasting Doc’s time.” Dom cocked his head to the side. “Not when we have someone else who could do the job.”

“Are you insane?” Chef said under his breath.

“The longer we stand around arguing about this, the more blood he’s losing,” someone Luca didn’t recognize said.

“Luca can do it,” Dom said calmly. “Can’t you?”

Again, instinct took over. “Yes.”

“Good. Then prove it.”

Without a word, Chef took off upstairs, returning a minute later with much more than a simple first-aid kit. Kind of like they’d done this before.

Chef pushed Luca forward into the dining room, and it was like he had entered a lion’s den. Surrounded on all sides by Dom’s men, it was all Luca could do to stay on his feet.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer to Dom to get a look at what he was working with. No signs of a bullet, but the wound was deeper than he’d expected. How Dom hadn’t passed out from the pain, he didn’t know, but somehow Luca didn’t think this was the first time he’d been injured. Or even the second.

“Someone needs to help him press down to stop the bleeding. Like this.”

Luca demonstrated, and Dom nodded at the man Luca didn’t know. “Gino.”

As Gino took over, Luca moved over to the kit Chef had brought down. The amount of tools and supplies they had didn’t come from a corner store, that was for sure, and it would make his job a lot easier.

“I’m just gonna wash my hands,” Luca said, heading toward the kitchen. As he soaped up, his mind whirled. Was he really about to do this? Help his kidnapper? Shit, now that he was surrounded by guys who could snap his head off in less time than it took him to blink, he was kind of stuck now, wasn’t he?

God, why had he opened his mouth in the first place?

He toweled off and took another deep breath, trying to shake off his nerves. This wasn’t exactly an ideal situation to work, but he didn’t have another choice.

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the kit, snapped them on, and then took what else he needed. He laid everything out on the table beside Dom, and nodded at Gino that he was ready.

Gino stood up slowly, his eyes narrowing to slits as he went toe to toe with Luca. “You fuck this up and you’re dead. Got it?”

Luca swallowed and nodded.

As Gino moved out of the way, Luca took the seat beside Dom, closer than he wanted to be to the man he’d tried to avoid at all costs.

He tore open a few alcohol pads and began to wipe the length of Dom’s bicep. “When I get started, it’s going to hurt. Do you want to take anything for the pain first?”

“I can grab some vodka,” Chef offered.

“I meant more like the pills you’ve got in the kit,” Luca said.

Dom shook his head, his eyes closed. “Just do it.”

Luca hesitated. “Are you sure?”

Dom’s eyes opened, locking on Luca’s. The steely resolve there told Luca more than words could, and he nodded.

“Okay.” He glanced over his shoulder at the men hovering and blocking the light. “Could I get a little room to work, please?”

“No,” Gino said, arms crossed. “Get to work, doctor man.”

“Guys. Back the fuck up,” Dom said.

At their boss’s insistence, the men all took a step back, enough to give Luca a clear view of what he was working with. He tried to block out the death stares he could feel on his back and focus on what needed to be done.

But as he began to clean the wound, Dom hissed, and Joe jerked Luca up by the back of the neck.

“What the hell,” Luca said on a gasp.

“You think you can try somethin’ funny?”

“No—of course not. He didn’t want the pain meds, so it’s going to hurt.”

“All right, that’s it,” Dom said, getting to his feet. “Everyone get the fuck out.”

Gino stepped forward. “But Dom—”

The icy glare Dom shot Gino wasn’t one Luca ever wanted to be on the other side of.

“Is there a problem, Gino?” Dom asked.

Gino shook his head. “Course not, boss.” He looked down the line at the others and nodded toward the living room. “We won’t be far if you need us.”

“I think I can manage.” Dom sat back down while Joe released his grip on Luca.

Geez, the guy’s hand practically wrapped around his entire neck. As much as Luca wanted to massage the tender muscles there, he needed to get on with this before the crew decided to come back.

Without a word, he went back to cleaning the area, and this time Dom didn’t make a sound.

It was almost too bad this guy was such a terrible human, because he wasn’t at all unattractive. If Silas were here, he’d give Luca so much shit, because on physical looks only, Dom was exactly Luca’s type. So well put together, every stitch of clothing tailored. Black hair styled back away from his face, and just enough facial hair to show off the chiseled jaw line that would’ve made Luca swoon under normal circumstances.

But this was anything but normal. And Dom wasn’t a good guy; he was a psychopath.

Just focus on what you have to do,Luca told himself. Not on how close he is, or that he’s half-naked. And definitely not on the fact that if you screw this up, you’ll be dead.

Luca glanced over his shoulder to where Dom’s men paced around the living room, shooting him daggers every time they looked his way.

Shit.Maybe dead was the better alternative.