10. Luca

10

LUCA

I hate hospitals.

There are many people who have similar issues, but mine has nothing to do with the patients or the sickness. It's the fact that every time I'm in one, it's never for anything good.

The most jarring memory is one I try desperately to forget, but I can't. I didn't make it here in time. Someone I loved dearly came inside and never left alive. My heart beats rapidly with every step I take into the Emergency Room entrance.

Sonny's pacing in front of a large desk where two nurses move urgently behind it to answer ringing phones while helping everyone in the line forming. Dozens of people sit in the waiting area, sick, bleeding, and complaining as doctors and nurses call them one by one.

"Hey, Sonny," I call to him as I get closer only to realize the gaze of fury in his eyes. His entire face is red as his wide muscular frame continues to pace.

"You need to go see, Faith. Look at what that monster did to her." Sonny's practically shaking with rage.

"Where is she?" I ask him.

He gives me her room number. I take the elevator up to the floor where Faith is resting in a single hospital room. My most popular actress has a bandage wrapped around her head with her leg elevated in a cast that spreads from the top of her thigh down to her foot. Her hospital gown does nothing to hide the bruises of fingerprints and other marks littering her arms.

My heart breaks as I knock softly on the door. She offers me a smile, exhaustion in her eyes. This is only another reminder of how I fail to show up when people need me. Another reminder of how I'll let Jo down if we take things deeper than what they are.

I let out a heavy breath, approaching her bedside. "Hey, kiddo. What happened?"

There's swelling around her face that I can't bear to look at. So, I focus on the machines behind her. "I was leaving a club last night and some guys caught me in the parking lot. They said they wanted my car, but I gave them the keys and this still happened."

"Fuck. They? How many guys does it take to attack a thirty-year-old?—"

She cuts me off. "Don't say my age out loud, Luca. It becomes too real and I'll have to stop saying I'm turning twenty-five for the fifth time."

"I'm sorry."

"Luca, don't apologize. You didn't stomp on my leg like you were trying to kill the world's largest spider."

I shake my head, anger bubbling under the surface. "How are you laughing about this?"

Her shoulders raise up and down slowly. "I think it's a mix between my morbid sense of humor and the painkillers. I don't want to involve you guys and you know, the family."

She air quotes, family.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Faith turns to face me with her head dramatically tipping to the side. "Don't pretend like you, Gina, and Sonny don't work for the mafia. I've seen enough these past eight years working for you guys. Look, I only wanted to talk to you and Sonny because one of the guys said that if I won't work for Vito, I won't work for anyone. Then they did this shit to me. You can pretend you and Sonny aren't made guys, but Vito brags about his affiliation like he can't get locked up for some of the shit he does."

"He's going to pay for this. Did you talk to the police?" I ask her.

"Of course I did. But what are they going to do? I couldn't give an actual description of the guys who did this and it's going to take them a while to pull footage from the club's security cameras. I wanted to tell you and Sonny to make Vito pay, but also, so you can let your other actors know to be aware."

Josephine immediately pops into my head. It's bad enough she's helping me put this movie together for that damn federal agent, but now, Vito's attacking my people. This ends now. I won't let her get hurt.

I thank Faith before leaving the room and heading back to the entrance of the hospital's Emergency Room, where Sonny's still pacing.

"Let's go," I growl.

We leave the hospital as I take out my phone to get Marzano family soldiers who can meet us at Vito Dacosta's club. Trips is a titty bar on the outskirts of the city that triples as a brothel and porn studio. There's no way I'm walking in there with Sonny's hot head temper alone.

The club's parking lot is empty as we pull up, with three other cars following us. We have backup as we storm inside the club in the middle of the early afternoon. A colorful array of lights swirls around the club like it's midnight. Three catwalks split the large room into three sections, with a long bar lining the left wall.

A group of three guys sit at the bar laughing among themselves while two dancers clad in G-strings sway awkwardly around poles in front of empty seats at the end of their catwalk stages. The filthy black carpet under our feet has blue and purple swirls in the design, reminding me of a bowling alley. The place stinks of cigarettes, cigars, and beer. I can't help but notice the sounds of loud moaning coming from somewhere behind the stages.

"Which one of you fucks likes to hit women?" Sonny barks.

I want to hold him back, but he's packing rage on top of his bodybuilder shape. He's not one of those types of guys whose muscles are useless. He puts them to work. While I'd normally encourage him to sit this out because of my nieces and nephew at home, I know he won't. He's as disgusted by people who hurt those who can't defend themselves as much as I am.

"Who the fuck are you?" One of the three guys replies, getting out of his seat and putting his hand in his back pocket.

One of my soldiers draws his gun without hesitation, which causes the three men to draw their weapons.

"We only want to know which one of you assholes decided to attack a Luca Brisco actress." I tell them before bullets start to fly.

"What's the matter? I thought actresses are supposed to break a leg." Another one of the Slimeball Three asks. The group laughs and high fives one another. I'm going to enjoy what happens next.

Sonny's angry as he looks around, snatches an ashtray off a nearby table, and flings it like a frisbee at the guy with his hand reaching into his pocket. It ends up hitting him in the head, knocking him out cold. The other two look at their unconscious counterpart, realize they're surrounded and drop their guns.

"Shit, we were doing a job," one says with his hands in the air. For this, Sonny and I approach them. A fist-to-fist fight will teach these assholes not to blindly follow orders.

One punch silences him for a moment before he gets angry enough to fight back. It doesn't surprise me. Some men fight while others take flight. He catches me with a good blow to my ribs, but I'm able to counter quickly with a hook to his face. I duck and land two more blows. One to his face and the other to his chest.

My knuckle lands near his temple, cutting him above the eye and drawing blood. The sight of his own blood as he wipes his eye sends him into a panicked rage and he charges me. The brunt of his shoulder cuts across the trunk of my body, wrapping me in a bear hug and slamming me through one of the wooden tables.

Fuck.

My back explodes in pain and while nothing's broken, I know I'm going to be sore as hell tomorrow. I don't get a chance to retaliate, as Sonny grabs the guy by the shoulder. He pulls the attacker away from me and lands a punch to the center of the guy's face.

Once Sonny gets the guy on the ground, it gets worse. He lands one blow after another until the dude's face is a puffing, bloody mess. I get up to grab Sonny, holding him back from killing the guy.

"You lay a hand on one of my people ever again, and I'll catch you when my brother's not here to fucking save your useless fucking life." Sonny snarls before storming out. The other guy is a puddle of limbs under a stool by the bar.

A curtain hiding the loud moans shifts to the side when a large guy walks out wearing an obnoxiously opulent black silk shirt with gold fleur-de-lis symbols decorating the garment. The gold slacks don't help the guy's appearance as he zips them up with a sickening grin. It's only when he gets closer, I recognize Vito Dacosta's signature expression of arrogance.

"What the hell is going on out here? I can't even make a decent movie back there without all this noise." He looks around at the mess. "Albie? Junior? Matteo? What the fuck is going on?"

Three of my soldiers hang back while the other four walk outside with Sonny. I turn to Vito. "You sent these goons to attack one of my actresses? She's in the hospital, face fucked up and a broken leg."

"What?" He looks genuinely surprised.

"That asshole under the bar stomped on Faith's leg and snapped it in half. I don't know what the other two did, but they deserve this." I motion to the destruction. "Stay away from my people, Vito."

"Whoa, Luca, wait a minute. An actress with a fucked-up face and a broken leg is no good to me. I threaten, sure, but I wouldn't have her hurt?—"

The first guy who got hit with the ashtray stirs, interjecting into our conversation. "Wait a minute. You said the bitch needed to come work with us."

Anger fills Vito's eyes as he grinds his teeth and yells. "How the fuck is the bitch supposed to fuck with a fucked-up face and broken leg? Here, let me see how well that works for you."

Vito pulls out his gun and shoots the guy in the kneecap. As he howls in pain, Vito turns to me. "No hard feelings, Luca?"

"Fuck you, Vito. If you hadn't tried to force my girl to work for you, none of this would be happening. Stay away from my people. This is your last warning." I tell the opposing mob boss.

"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to, Devlin? I'll skin you and wear you like a mink. You think because you're fucking the girl means she can't be poached by another production studio?"

"Poached and put in the hospital are two different things. Next time, none of you survive." I warn him and turn to leave with my soldiers covering me to make sure I don't get shot in the back.

Outside, my adrenaline fades as I walk over to Sonny. He's smoking a vape pen outside one of the SUVs we came in.

"Was that a gunshot I heard?" he asks once I'm next to him.

I nod. "Yeah. Vito got mad because, according to him, the assholes weren't supposed to hurt Faith, so he shot the guy you clocked with the ashtray."

"Dead?" Sonny has a worried gaze because we don't want or need to be here if there's a body inside.

"No, in the leg. I mean, he could die, but not while we're here. Let's get out of here, fellas," I tell everyone who nod and get into their cars.

In the back seat of one SUVs with windows tinted black so no one can see the passengers inside, both Sonny and I hold our hands up to see the damage. It's not bad, but it doesn't look good either. The hand I used to punch that guy above the eye is split down the knuckle. The stinging sensation of the open wound hits me more when I flex my fingers in and out.

"When did you get hit in the face?" Sonny asks, as he sits on my left.

Heat rises to my cheeks as I think of how I started my day. A smile spreads across my face. "That would have been this morning."

"How many people have you been fighting?" he asks with a laugh.

"It wasn't a fight. It was a therapeutic release with Josephine."

"Ah, the mysterious lead actress of Starlight. Do you think we're going to have a problem with Vito for this film?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. All I know is he'd better leave Jo alone."

My phone buzzes with the flash of an unfamiliar number, heightening my anxiety that something's wrong.

"Devlin," I answer.

"Hey, it's Jo." The soft familiarity of her tone warms me as memories of our time together dance in my head. I hum the tune, Something in the Way , and she laughs, saying, "I'm happy you remember. I wanted to know if you're still at the hospital. I had to come in?—"

"What's wrong?" I ask, my heart racing as a different kind of panic finds me. But I don't hear anything from Jo. I pull the phone away from my face to look at a blacked-out screen. Pushing the power button doesn't do anything except flash an angry lightning bolt at me. "Take me back to the hospital right now."