Chapter Twenty-Six Genovese

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX GENOVESE

Back at Evelina , it wasn’t Vita who tended to me, but Elena. She breezed into my bedroom dressed in a floor-length dressing gown, her dark hair hanging loose around her shoulders. She looked younger without her usual make-up.

‘You’re back,’ she said, way more casually than I was expecting. She had a small case with her; she laid it on the bed between us and gestured at Luca’s suit jacket, indicating with a flick of the wrist that I should take it off. ‘Can I see the wound, please?’ There was a note of tenderness in her voice, in place of her usual mistrust.

I shrugged the jacket off, watching as her eyes went wide. She sucked in a gasp. ‘It’s a little worse than I was expecting.’ She took my hand in hers, pulled gently, so she could get a better look at my shoulder. There were pools of dried blood around the wound, the skin gaping open where the bullet had grazed the skin. I had to look away before I got sick.

‘OK,’ she said, calmly, opening the case. ‘I’m going to have to stitch it closed.’

‘What?’ I gaped at her. ‘Shouldn’t we get a doctor or something to do that?’

I don’t know why I was expecting her to pull out some run-of-the-mill fabric thread and a rusty old needle, but I was. She removed surgical thread and a sterilized needle instead, a frown pursing her lips as she looked at me. ‘I am a mother of five active assassins, the wife of one deceased Mafia boss and the daughter of another. I am also a trained nurse. You don’t have to look so horrified, Sophie.’

Sophie . My name. The preferred version too. Something fluttered inside me. It felt a little bit like relief.

I closed my jaw back up. ‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I just thought—’

‘That I was going to hurt you?’ she said. ‘Of course not.’ She applied some ointment to the area around the wound. I tried not to flinch, and failed. ‘I don’t usually numb first, but since this is your first gunshot wound…’

‘Jesus,’ I muttered.

Elena surprised me by laughing. ‘The first prick will be the hardest, and then it will be quick. I promise.’ She tapped a finger against my skin to see if the numbing cream had set in yet. ‘Feel that?’

I nodded, and she pulled back, waiting.

‘I didn’t know you used to be a nurse,’ I said.

‘Yes. I trained a long time ago – before I had all these boys running around after me, dragging at my skirts, demanding five meals a day. Once they came along, I found being a mother to them was a full-time job.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘I enjoy it, you know,’ she said, flicking a glance at me, waiting for a reaction. ‘Tending to people. That might surprise you.’

Maybe it would have once, but not any more. Not after I’d seen her around her sons, the love she showed them, even when she was snapping at Dom about leaving dirty plates in the sink or giving out to Gino about his messy hair. You could feel it.

‘It doesn’t surprise me, actually.’ That brought a fleeting smile to Elena’s face. ‘What made you want to be a nurse?’ I don’t know why I asked, but my shoulder was starting to go numb and I knew the needle would be coming next and I wanted to take my mind off it. Besides, I wanted to know more about her.

‘My mother was a nurse.’ She pointed towards the wall, and I looked away, trying to ignore the needle as she threaded it in my periphery. ‘She died when I was very young, but the care she showed my sister and me in our early childhood never left me. She was from Texas. As far from a mafiosa as you can imagine. She taught us to ride horses and make pecan pie when we were barely able to walk. She made the most magnificent turkey dinners at Christmastime, and the sweetest eggnog. And then one day, it all went away. She died in a botched hit on my father, and all of her goodness died with her.’ Her smile was sad, her voice hollow when she said, ‘When you grow up around torture and violence, it does something to you, Sophie. I wanted to end suffering, not cause it. I wanted to be a solution, in whatever way I could. My mother was kind. I suppose I wanted to be like her.’

I barely felt the first prick. The cream had kicked in and Elena’s movements were quick and steady now. Still, I shut my eyes. ‘Did your dad approve?’

She let out a snort. ‘My father rarely approved of anything I did. Where my mother was kind, he was cruel. He ruled the Genovese crime family with an iron fist, and that extended to Donata and me as well. I used to think he was the most impressive man I ever met. As I grew up, that changed. I came to fear how easily he could separate his emotions from his duty. Sometimes I wondered if he had emotions at all.’

The silence rose up between us, and I was conscious of how much she was offering me, how vulnerable she might have felt in that moment, so I said, ‘I can understand that. Thinking you know someone, and learning that they’re nothing like what you thought. It sucks. Especially when it’s your dad.’

Elena nodded. ‘We look at our parents through rose-coloured glasses. Part of growing up is taking them off. We come to understand them on a human level. It’s not always a pleasant experience.’

‘No,’ I agreed. ‘It’s not.’

‘My father didn’t believe in silly things like affection or love. He liked order and deference. He wanted me to marry my second cousin to keep the Genovese bloodline strong.’

‘Ew,’ I said, before I could stop myself.

Elena’s laugh was a passing tinkle. ‘Yes. Exactly. You can imagine how angry the great Don Genovese was when I ran away with Angelo Falcone instead.’

I remembered what Donata had told me about the situation. Do you know what he gifted to my sister on the night of their wedding? My father’s death.

‘Angelo killed your father.’ The words were out of my mouth before I could swallow them back. I winced, feeling the prick of the needle more keenly now.

‘Yes, Angelo killed my father, but not before he made an attempt on our lives.’ She sighed, and I could almost feel it in my bones. The sadness, the weariness. ‘He didn’t have a choice. For us, it was kill or be killed.’

I sucked in a breath. ‘Your father really tried to murder you? Because you fell in love?’

‘Because I fell in love with the wrong man and tied myself to the wrong family,’ Elena explained. ‘He would have preferred a dead daughter over a Falcone one. I think that’s why he tried to do it on my wedding night. As a lesson to others in the Genovese family. As a warning. He wanted me to die in my wedding dress.’

I wondered if my father felt the same way about me. I hoped not – though with Jack, the sentiment was clear. He had been ready to haul me away with Donata tonight – to let her torture me for turning my back on the Marino family.

‘When my father sent his soldato for me, I was in the shower, about to get ready for bed with my new husband.’ I felt her shudder at the memory, but she continued, her voice strong. ‘It was my cousin Johnny. I screamed when I saw him burst in, and if his gun hadn’t misfired, I would have died right there in the water. But Angelo was in the dressing room, and he got to him first. I guess Johnny thought I was alone.’

‘That sounds terrifying,’ I said, imagining that particular brand of fear.

‘It was,’ she said quietly. ‘Right after that, Angelo called Paulie and they paid my father a final visit together.’ She swallowed hard, cleared her throat, and said, ‘The end was quick.’

‘God,’ I said. What a mess these Mafia families made for each other. ‘And your sister never forgave you.’ It was a statement, not a question.

‘Donata was in the house the night Angelo killed my father. He could have killed her, too, but I asked him to spare her. Despite the fact we never saw eye to eye, despite her hatred of me and what I had done, I didn’t want him to harm her.’ She tapped my arm to indicate she was done with the stitches. I opened my eyes to find her icy blue gaze swimming with unshed tears. ‘I spend every day of my life regretting that decision. I spend every waking moment wondering whether she will take one of my sons from me, like she almost took Gino during that fire.’ She blinked, and the tears vanished. ‘I think it is the worst decision I ever made.’

Elena ran her fingers over the scrape wounds in my neck. ‘A gift from my sister?’ she asked.

I nodded.

She pulled her hair from her neck, craning it away from me so that under the light I could see three faint white lines stretching from her collarbone around to the back of her ear. ‘Snap,’ she said, a macabre smirk twisting on her face. ‘She did this to me when the boy she had a crush on asked me to the prom instead. Of course I didn’t go with him, but the offence was enough to warrant the scars.’

‘She’s crazy,’ I breathed.

‘Yes,’ Elena said simply. ‘I’m glad you are away from her.’

The sentiment pricked my heart, and I thought for a horrifying moment that I might cry. It had been a long night. ‘Thank you,’ I said quietly. ‘For helping me tonight… and for being nice to me.’

Elena nodded. ‘It is not unheard of to leave one Mafia family for another, if you feel there is something or someone calling out to you.’ I avoided her gaze, tried to ignore any implicit meanings that may or may not have existed in that statement. ‘If you are prepared to endanger yourself for the safety of my boys, I am prepared to do the same for you. We look after each other, now. All of us. If my sons can trust you, then so can I.’

She went back to work, fixing a square bandage over the stitches in my shoulder. She pulled back, took two pills from the case and then closed it up, folding the pills into my hands. ‘You’ll need these painkillers. I’ll get you a prescription for more and I’ll send one of the boys to pick them up. Try not to move around too much over the next few days, and get a good night’s sleep.’ She squeezed my good arm once, then got to her feet. ‘You did well tonight, Sophie. You were brave. You were a Falcone.’ She turned from me then, her silk robe trailing behind her as she left.

I swallowed the pills without bothering with water. A few minutes later, Nic appeared in the doorway to my bedroom. ‘Well?’

‘Twelve stitches, no bullet,’ I said. ‘Lucky me.’

‘Congratulations!’ His smile was all teeth. ‘Your first official Mafia wound. And twelve stitches. That’s impressive.’

‘Is it?’ I pulled the blanket tighter around my arms, covering up all the skin that had been marred with blood.

‘Don’t,’ he said, coming into the room. ‘Let me see.’

Reluctantly, I dropped the blanket, revealing my heavily bloodstained arm. There was a thick gauze plaster covering the wound on my shoulder.

He whistled. ‘Whoa. That’s intense.’

I smiled weakly. ‘’Tis but a scratch.’

‘You’re hardcore, Soph.’

My head was starting to swim. I didn’t know what Elena had given me, but I was going all bendy and light-headed. ‘I feel very soft and squishy right now,’ I said. ‘And also, bloody. Very bloody.’

‘Hang on.’ Nic left the room, returning a moment later with a hand towel. He sat down beside me and took my hand in his, laying it across his knee. I just sat there, all floppy, as the painkillers slipped into my system and my lids grew heavy, and watched as he pressed the wet towel against my arm.

‘Thanks, Nic,’ I said, watching him clean the blood away, bit by bit. His head was bent at an angle, his dark brows pulled together. His touch was so gentle I barely felt it.

‘It’s kind of sexy,’ he said, taking my fingers in his, and carefully scrubbing the towel across them, removing the dried blood in my fingernails. ‘All this blood.’

I smiled blissfully at the crown of his head. ‘That is such a stupid thing to say.’

His laugh was a low rumble in his chest.

‘Did Luca speak to Valentino yet?’

‘He’s briefed him,’ Nic answered without looking up.

‘Was Valentino angry?’ I asked.

Nic shrugged. ‘Valentino’s always angry. Luca wants him to push for a truce. Valentino is considering it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’ Nic snapped his head up. ‘Stupid, right?’

‘What did Luca say?’

‘I guess he just can’t believe they all showed up at a high school. I mean, that’s so messed up.’

‘Yeah,’ I echoed.

‘Luca says there are no rules any more, no shred of honour left between our families, and if we don’t agree to a truce now, then we’re all going to suffer for it.’

It was too much to process. I could only hang on to one thought at once. ‘What happened to Zola Marino?’ I asked. ‘We left her unconscious in a hallway.’

‘She’s been taken into police custody,’ he said. ‘They’re calling her a lone shooter on the news.’

‘Will she talk?’

A mirthless smile. ‘Not a chance.’

‘Will she get bail?’

‘If Donata has anything to do with it. She’s got half of Chicago PD in her pocket.’ He pulled the towel away and lifted my hand to inspect it. ‘Tonight was a disaster.’

‘It won’t be like that next time.’

‘There might not be a next time, if they get their truce.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘We can’t cower, not now.’

‘Tell that to Valentino and Luca,’ Nic said, his tone clipped. ‘There’s no speaking to them when they get like this.’

‘I don’t want a truce, Nic.’

‘And you think I do?’ he said, incredulous. ‘We deserve revenge. You deserve revenge. Tonight was difficult, but you escaped. Donata ended up losing, not us.’ He rolled his eyes, frustration gathering in the corners of his puckered mouth. ‘I don’t know why Luca can’t see it like that.’

‘I’ll have a gun next time. We’ll be better prepared.’ I don’t know why I was fighting so hard. I suppose beneath the fear and the pain and the sudden realization of my own precarious mortality, there was a feeling of strength, of my own determination. I was strong. I had survived tonight. I had helped Luca. And I would survive again. We all would. ‘I’m not afraid, Nic. I’m not afraid of what they’ll do, and I’m not afraid of what I can do.’

He smiled at me, a slow curl of his lips. ‘See,’ he said. ‘You are hardcore.’

He moved the cloth up my arm, brushing the inside of my elbow, his fingers inching around my wrist.

He slid his arm back down. Without meaning to, he was holding my hand, and my fingers were curled inside his. We were much closer than I realized. He was tracing small circles around the wound in my shoulder with his free hand, tenderly cleaning off the dregs of disinfectant and blood.

‘What are you doing?’ I was suddenly so unbearably tired.

He took his hand away, folding the cloth in his lap. ‘I’m proud of you, Soph,’ he said earnestly. ‘You were amazing tonight. A true Falcone.’

I smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’ The words slipped off my tongue, husky and far more intimate than I intended. ‘You smell like a forest.’

The corner of his lip flickered. ‘Looks like the pain meds are kicking in.’