Chapter 10 Antonio

The Medical Director’s office is not where I want to be right now, but this is a conversation I need to have. Dr. Melanie Stavros is a phenomenal leader and she’s been vocal about me taking on more responsibility in the hospital. Two years out of my residency, it’s only right they expect my career to grow.

The Director barely pulls her gaze away from her computer monitor when I come inside her office. However, as soon as I sit, she gives me her full attention.

“Are you ready to see what the board and I have in mind for your career’s trajectory?” she asks with hope in her eyes. It’s like a sixth sense with her that she wants to have this discussion at the end of my shift on a Sunday evening.

“Actually, I need to take a leave of absence,” I tell her as uncertainty rips through me.

“Well, that’s unexpected. You’ve been doing so much around here, especially when you helped us land Julian Blackwell and his company as a benefactor. Is there anything I can do to help you stay with us, Antonio?” Melanie asks. The hope in her eyes withers away.

For a brief moment, I can see the decades of experience wash over her face. Disappointment and frustration scream from every wrinkle of her forehead.

“I have some family concerns I need to take care of.”

“Family? That’s a word I don’t hear from you often.”

I try not to let the dig get to me, but it puts a chink in the regard I hold for Melanie. “I have a family. It’s just that I’ve been out here and they’re from New York. I can’t turn my back on them. They need me. My fiancé needs me.”

“Fiancé?” She gasps. “I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone let alone engaged while working several eighteen-hour shifts every week.”

“We’ve been keeping up a long-distance relationship these past few years. Now that she’s in San Francisco and we’re trying to keep our relationship together. I need some time.” I tell her and wonder if she can sense the deeper reasons.

Can she smell the blood of the man I pushed under the water’s surface after severing his hands? Does Melanie have any inkling that I’m as murderous as the family I keep at arm’s length? My brothers by choice, and soon by marriage if things go my way.

As it stands, I’m not feeling much like a doctor who can continue to uphold my Hippocratic oath.

Do no harm ...

With Frankie showing up on Ronan’s doorstep as his patient, ending with me severing the hands off his corpse ... there’s too much happening for me to focus on being the doctor I’m expected to be. The doctor I promised myself I’d become.

I vowed to distance myself from the Marzano family. Especially after everything that happened with Luca and Julian. Now? I’m ready to marry into one of the most dangerous families in the country, perhaps the world.

“How long are you thinking, Antonio?” Melanie asks.

“I don’t know. I think three months should be enough time for me to figure things out.”

She nods solemnly. “Three months is enough time for you to interview at other hospitals, choose a specialty and rake in millions for another institution that did not take an intern with a felony scrubbed off their record.”

Fuck my regard for the Director.

“Excuse me?” I ask, waiting for clarity because she’s not supposed to know about that.

A maniacal glare flashes in her deep brown eyes, as she picks up on my surprise, telling me, “Just because it was never mentioned doesn’t mean it was unknown. I will make certain that if there’s even a rumor of you taking a position at another hospital, siphoning patients out of our system, that criminal record you paid a pretty penny to hide will shine as bright as your future here.”

I nod slowly, understanding our professional relationship is most certainly conditional. “Wow. You know there’s something to be said about a person your age getting to your position as quickly as you have. Ruthlessness are the nuts holding that ladder of success together.”

“And you’re letting pussy knock your nuts back down to the bottom rung,” she scoffs, shaking her head side to side. “ You’re engaged ... that’s a fucking joke. Long distance with a doctor that works your hours, and you want to take a leave of absence. What do you think you can accomplish in three months? Trying to show some woman, who’s probably completely different from the last time you’ve slept in the same city together, that you’re going to be around?”

“You’re out of line, Melanie.”

“You OWE me, Antonio. I looked the other way.”

“You were PAID to look the other way,” I snarl back at her.

She grins. “Prove it.”

I’m ready to blow my top, shout, and demand her understanding that me asking for a leave of absence isn’t an excuse to let some head-hunter find a position for me at a different hospital. But the only way she’d understand is if I told her the truth, the entire truth. That’s not going to happen.

The incessant vibration of my phone ringing in my pocket steals my attention. I know we need to finish this in order for me to keep my job, but it won’t stop ringing.

“You’d better not take that call right now.” Melanie threatens as I stand.

It’s Gemma and my heart races as I go against Melanie’s order.

“What’s wrong?” I ask Gemma as panic fills every ounce of my body.

Her breathing is ragged, and voice comes in a harsh whisper. “He’s following me. I’m in the biggest garage across from the pier. Oh no. He’s getting closer.”

The call disconnects and I rush toward the door with Melanie shouting something as I leave. I’m certain it’s an ultimatum of some sort, but I can’t worry about my boss right now. Our entire relationship has been a lie.

Fortunately, the hospital isn’t far from Pier 39 as I hop in my car to head to the area. There’s a guard at the security booth when I pull inside the large parking garage, but all he does is point at the hours of operation.

He shouts from behind the glass. “No parking overnight, buddy. We’ve already towed cars out of here, man.”

“I’m looking for a woman, blonde, about five-five, she might be in trouble,” I tell him.

He looks over his shoulder at a security camera monitor and shakes his head. “Don’t see anything man but go ahead and look. You got fifteen minutes.”

Asshole.

I send a text to Gemma’s phone, trying to figure out if she’s still in this garage somewhere. She calls me back immediately.

“Where are you?” I ask her.

“I’m on the third or fourth level? I got turned around,” she whispers. “I think my car’s on the top floor.”

“Gemmmaaaa...” A voice sings from the distance.

She gasps and so do I before I tell her. “I’m on my way. I’m driving around to the third level now.”

I honk the horn and flick my high beams as I drive around the third floor. It isn’t until I drive up the ramp to the fourth that I spot Gemma sprinting toward me and a hooded figure hanging around a few yards away. After throwing the car’s gearshift into Park , I get out and chase the guy down.

“Get in my car and stay there!” I shout at Gemma as I haul ass after the man with the shadowy face.

I can hear his panting breaths mirroring mine as we both run at breakneck speed. He has too much of a lead ahead of me as he ducks into a stairwell. By the time I crash into the door, there’s only silence. I don’t hear anyone running up or down the stairs. There aren’t any doors slamming and the asshole taunting Gemma disappears into the night.

I walk out of the stairwell to see Gemma driving my car slowly toward me. I hate failing and this is the second time I let this asshole get away. My ego isn’t easily bruised, but my duty to protect Gemma feels like a task I’m not suited for. It’s a slap in the face to everything I’ve been through to fail at something as simple as this.

“Are you alright?” I ask her as she gets out to let me drive. The absurdity in the question isn’t lost on me, but it’s the only thing I can think of.

My eyes vigorously scan our surroundings. I’m practically wishing for that asshole to make another appearance. I’ll beat him into the ground the way I should have done Frankie. It’s been a long time, but I’m sure my hands are still as lethal as they were in prison.

Gemma snickers and bites her lower lips as she slides into the passenger seat. “I’m alive. I can’t believe this is all happening because I fingered a bullet hole.”

“What?” I ask since her answer is even more absurd than my question.

“Me and Natalie were waiting in line for the bathroom at Trips the other night. There are bullet holes in the wall, and they just painted over them.” She bristles with disgust. “People died in that club. Maybe not during the shoot out, but I’m more than aware of my family’s feud with Don Vito Dacosta.”

“How did you guys choose that place and what do the bullet holes have to do with anything?” I try to emphasize the patience in my tone. I want her to walk me through it.

“The downfall of Trips was like a bat signal to my brothers. They wanted to be bigger than Tre Fratelli of La Familia. There are too many egos, bosses, and dons running around Manhattan like it’s the fucking 80’s. With Armande’s issues out here, Bash wanted to claim Trips like a trophy to stamp the Marzano family’s new foundation of power in San Francisco.”

I don’t interrupt her but as she talks, I drive around to the top floor of the parking garage and there aren’t any cars up here.

Gemma’s voice barely holds any emotion, undoubtedly exhausted from everything. She says, “Natalie’s always so excited when my brothers are around. She doesn’t see the blood after the bullets. I kept fingering the bullet holes at Trips because they were real. Someone just painted over them. As if a coat of that ugly blue paint could erase them. Frankie didn’t like my attitude about the bullet holes.”

“He was pissed about that, but he left once I came over to you and Natalie.”

She nods. “Yeah. That guy, the asshole terrorizing me tonight? I saw him in Booked and Boozy before we closed.”

“We can go back there and have the security footage sent to us.”

Gemma sighs. “It wouldn’t matter. I didn’t see the asshole chasing me through this stupid garage. The guy in the cafe said that Verducci sends his best, but something is so off about it all.”

“I agree. Something isn’t quite right about any of this. Where is your car, Gem?” I ask her.

She looks around, and panic resurfaces. “I don’t know. Fuck! I parked it on the top level because there weren’t any other spots available. I knew I should have taken the bus. I didn’t know how to get here from your place, and I wasn’t about to call an UBER. Who knows what Verducci might try?”

“It’s not up here.” I tell her as we circle every floor until we’re at the front entrance where the guard is still inside the small security booth.

We both get out of the car, but Gemma’s panic turns to rage as she pounds her fist on the glass window, startling the security guard.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS MY CAR?” she shouts through the glass. I know she’s spiraling, and I have to step in. It’s hot seeing her shift into this bad ass version of herself.

“I’m sorry, ma’am, what kind of car was it?” he asks, peering over at me. All I offer him is a slight rise and fall of my shoulders. He has to answer her question.

“2020 Volvo, silver, parked on the top level. California plate, S as in Satan, D as in dickhead, F as in fucked, four, three, eight. Where is it and where were you? I was being harassed on my way to my car. Some guy stalked me through each level and now my car is missing!”

“Please calm down and let me check on it,” the booth attendant says with his hands shaking while he types something into the computer. The way his eyes widen lets me know he’s not about to give us good news. “Uh, it was towed because it looked abandoned. The tires were flat and rear window was shattered.”

“WHAT? How is that possible? I just parked it here this morning.” Gemma shouts. “Where was it taken?”

He shakenly slides a business card from the towing company under the glass and backs away. I grab the card and lead Gemma back to my car where she trembles against my chest. I hold her as she sobs with the frustration steaming off her.

“I’m sorry, Gemma. Let’s go see how bad it is and I promise to take care of it.”

She cries for a little longer before shaking her head. “You’re not supposed to take care of this. This isn’t supposed to happen. I left New York. I gave up everything and I still can’t get away from this fucking LIFE!”

Gemma screams into my chest, but the sounds are muffled as I ease her into the car. I fucking hate this. I go back to the security guard and slide my business card under the glass slot.

“I’m going to need you to send me the security footage for the past four days to the contact information on that card.”

“Sir, I’m not allowed to do that, privacy reasons for our customers.”

“Are you a gambling man?” I ask the attendant. I’m not grasping at straws because I can see the game he’s playing on his phone. It’s illegal to gamble online in California.

“Sometimes,” he answers, skepticism riddling his tone.

“What’s your game?” It doesn’t matter what his answer is because if he’s playing anywhere in the city, it’s a mob-backed game.

“Poker and blackjack.”

“You know The Green Room?” I ask him because most gamblers in the city either play there or wish they could play. It’s not a specific place, but an event that moves locations every week. It’s not just for gamblers, it’s one of those things people his age want to be a part of, to say they went to a Green Room game.

“Of course, man. I’d love to play there.”

“Okay, do me a favor since we need the footage for her insurance, send it to me and I’ll make sure you have an invitation to the Green Room.”

“Send me the invitation and then I’ll send the footage.”

I nod. “No problem. Send your information to the email on that card. I’ll take care of it and someone will call you with the details. The minute you have that you send me the footage. Please don’t make me come back here to collect.”

I keep my voice stern and unwavering, using the permanent scowl etched across my eyebrows to my advantage, instilling fear inside of him. Good. Inside the car, Gemma’s on the phone with Natalie.

I let her vent to her friend as I drive into the night wondering what else can possibly happen.