Episode 97

Episode 97

Play Dead

GIOVANNI

Pain. Bone melting, excruciating agony tore across my back and legs like I was being burned alive for the second time. Tears soaked the pillow I silently screamed into. I held my hands into fists, my belly to the hospital bed as I tried not to pass out.

It was too much. I'd never survive days or more likely weeks of this.

Every single one of my nerve endings felt as though they were being ripped from my body with dirty tweezers.

"Fucking hell," I roared and bit into the cotton pillow as the nurse cleaned my wounds, whatever solution she used sluicing over my destroyed back and legs like a waterfall of pure acid. The heavy pain meds and nerve blocker I was on supposedly dulled the worst of it. The medicine didn't come close to assuaging the absolute torture I experienced every time they changed my bandages. The doctors urged me to accept stronger pain infusions, but I refused as it would require my admission to the ICU. I'd spent days lost in the ugly haze of my nightmares due to sedation. I'd rather deal with the pain than feel nothing at all.

"Okay, Pookie," the nurse cooed, patting the bottom of my foot. It was probably the only place she could touch me without adding to my suffering. "You did better this time. The burns are healing really well."

"Awesome," I grumbled. She said that every time she changed my bandages. "Maybe I'll sign up to run the next New York City marathon," I added dryly.

She chuckled, and it sounded like birds chirping. Maggie was her name. Short for Margaret, she'd explained, but absolutely not Peggy. She hated that common nickname and made it clear she wouldn't be answering if anyone called her by it.

Maggie was the only nurse I could tolerate. Mostly because I was a terrible patient. She put up with my bullshit when the others gave up, calling for orderlies and a doctor's assistance. The grey-haired nurse somewhere in her sixties was a sprite compared to me, with a quick wit that also could withstand my angry outbursts. When I got out of hand due to the endless pain, she treated me as though I was a screaming toddler, hence the nickname Pookie. She claimed if I was going to act like a toddler, she'd address me as such. It didn't phase her that I was a six-foot-two, built man that could knock her out with one punch. Instead, she used kindness, sarcasm and humor to push through my anger. For some reason, with her, it worked.

Julianne knocked on the hospital door and peeked her head in. My heart beat rapidly, my skin buzzing as the worst of the pain eased at simply seeing her face.

"The yelling stopped. Can I come in now?" She asked Maggie, not me.

"Oh, he was a rascal today. Weren't you, Pookie? Ripping up his pillowcase with his teeth like a wild beast!" She patted my foot again. "Don't worry, I'll get you another one and throw away the evidence. None will be the wiser." She winked, as if what went on between us in this room when I lost my shit would stay between us. I appreciated the favor.

By my own decree, Julianne was kicked out of the room ever since my first experience with my injuries being cleaned while I was awake. I refused to have my wife see me sobbing like a baby every time my wounds were tended. It was demoralizing. I hated it and everything about being in this fucking hospital. I wanted out.

Today.

Julianne had other ideas. Wanting to follow along with the doctors' orders regardless of what I knew I needed.

"What did they say?" I hissed. They meaning the doctors.

She was supposed to be on an errand to get my doctors to agree to allow me to go on home healthcare. It was the only way they would consider letting me leave these four walls.

"They recommended you transfer to a special burn facility where you could get more expert care," she said gently.

"Fuck that!" I growled. "I want to go home and sleep in our bed. It's the only way I'm going to get any real rest."

"Here, here," Maggie cheered from across the room as she typed something into a rolling computer she dragged around from patient to patient as she performed her duties.

"Dr. Cline jokingly said the only way you could go home is if you had a full-time nurse and regular in-home doctor visits. He also sent your chart and images of your burns to a plastic surgeon who specializes in severe burns for a consult."

"Great. We'll set it up," I answered automatically, used to getting my way.

Maggie snorted, and I glared in her direction.

"Something to share from the audience?" I called out.

Maggie turned around and smiled evenly, completely unfazed by my shitty attitude. She was used to it by now.

"It's not so easy to get round-the-clock care."

"It is when you have more money than God," I huffed, wincing as my lower back muscles pulled at the tender ravaged skin with each of my movements.

She tilted her head to the side, her lips pursing. "I guess that would do it. Not that you'll be able to keep ‘em. Your attitude leaves much to be desired."

"She's right, honey," Julianne pushed a lock of my hair away from my forehead as I slowly eased from my front to my side to face them, using the leverage from my palm on the mattress to shift without adding too much additional pain.

"That's why I'm hiring you, Maggie," I blurted surprising myself, but then realized I'd meant it. She was the only person I'd listen to.

"That's sweet, Pookie, but this is my last year of service. I've already been conned into doing another year past my retirement."

"How old are you?" I asked.

"I'll be sixty-six this year. Was supposed to retire last year but with Covid and the shortages in staff, I stayed on to help."

"So you will get your retirement pay regardless of when you leave?" I concluded.

She tapped on her lips with her pen. "I suppose so…have plans to head to Florida near Boca Raton with my best friend this coming January. We found an affordable retirement home in Mission Bay about thirty minutes from where we'd really like to be, which is by the beach, but it's good enough for us."

I smiled wickedly.

"Gio…" Julianne warned. "I know that look…"

"How about you quit here, live out the rest of your time in New York with us, helping me heal for triple your current pay. Then when I'm better, I will pay for you and your best friend to live in a five-star retirement home on the fucking beach in Boca Raton until the day you both die of old age."

Maggie gasped, her hand flying up to her chest. "You couldn't possibly afford something like that."

"Try me," I growled, the idea already planting roots in my mind.

"He can more than afford it," Julianne responded with a sigh.

"And Maggie will be responsible for finding me the best doctors to treat my burns and manage my care." I smiled, loving this plan already.

"I already know all the best doctors in New York. I've been a nurse in just about every hospital in the city over my forty-five years of service." She puffed up with pride.

"See, it's settled," I grated out, my back throbbing with every breath I took. "Jules, love of my life, please, do this for me. Make this happen. I need to be home."

"I'll let you two talk, but if what you say is true, Pookie, I'd be an idiot not to take you up on your offer. And my momma didn't raise no fool. I'll be back this evening to check on you. Try to rest."

"I'll rest when I'm home."

Maggie laughed out loud, the birdlike sounds following her out the room.

"She's something else," Julianne whispered when the door clicked shut. "And Pookie?" She snickered. "I didn't think I'd ever see the day you'd allow someone to call you that."

I groaned under my breath. "She reminds me of my grandma."

"That woman looks nothing like Grandma Falco," Julianne countered.

"No, but she has that take-no-shit attitude and inner strength. Besides, she makes me laugh." My gaze lifted to my wife, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "She also makes me believe I'll get through all of this and come out on the other side of it whole again."

Julianne cupped my cheek. "Oh Gio, you will. The worst of it, including the pain, will fade. You may be left with scars, but you survived. That's all that matters. And don't forget—you saved my life."

My gaze flicked down to her wrapped hands and forearms and the stitches scaling across her forehead and into her hairline. Her burns were fewer but no less damaging to my heart.

"I couldn't lose you. I'd rather not live in a world you weren't in."

Tears filled her pretty blue eyes as she leaned forward and kissed me softly. "Me either, so we'll just have to go on living."

"Actually, I'm going to suggest the exact opposite," came a booming voice from the doorway.

Bruno entered wearing all black, a grim expression, and more swagger than he should for a man visiting a patient in the hospital.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

Right then Julianne's cellphone rang.

"That would be your godmother, Alana. Turns out we've been fighting a similar battle as they have but on different continents," Bruno explained.

"I don't understand," Jules said.

"Answer the phone. You're not going to believe anything I have to say until you've spoken with her," Bruno claimed cryptically.

I watched as Julianne pulled out her phone and put it on speaker. "Alana?"

" Dieu merci !" Alana's cultured voice spoke in rushed French.

"Alana, where the heck have you been? So much has happened…"

"There is much to discuss, chéri ."

* * * *

The information Alana shared regarding her kidnapping, Angus, and more importantly, Bianca could have been the plotline for a suspense/action movie. These situations didn't happen in real life. Not only was Bianca married to a man named Dimitri, who was currently in jail for kidnapping Alana and Emily Davenport, but she was the daughter of one of the most wanted criminals across the globe. The same man that was the catalyst for including Julianne's parents into the original Marriage Auction.

In turn, we explained what happened here regarding the assault, Bianca being jailed, getting bailed out and the bombing of our offices. Lastly, we shared our various injuries, including the fact that Brenden was still in a medically induced coma.

My head spun with each new detail she revealed.

Bianca had played the long game. Weaving herself into our lives until she could handpick the many ways in which to screw us all over, likely making her criminal daddy proud.

It was all so twisted and jacked up that I had trouble keeping track of the details. Then again, that could be because of the plethora of pain meds, antibiotics and muscle relaxers I was on, but nonetheless, it was unbelievable when shared out loud.

"What are we going to do? Where are you now?" Julianne asked.

"Christo and I are in a safehouse in France, with…um…a friend."

Bruno grunted, seeming to have more information about this friend than we did.

"What friend?" Julianne snapped. "You need to come here. Be with family. We can protect you."

"I'm sorry, ma petite fleur , it is too dangerous for us to come to you. We would simply be bringing the devil to your doorstep, and I won't put you, Brenden, or Giovanni in jeopardy any further than what you've already experienced."

"That is not your decision to make," Julianne hissed, her foot stomping on the floor like a petulant child. Alana always brought out a more immature side of Julianne. It seemed to fester and grow after we lost our parents. Which made sense that Alana would take on the role of matriarch in Julianne's eyes.

"It is my decision and I have made it. I will stay in France and deal with Angus and Bianca myself."

"You can't do that! She's insane! Look at what she's already done to get back at you and the family," Julianne switched from angry child to devastated family member in an instant. "They want you dead. They want us all dead. Don't you see?"

"I do, my darling one. I truly understand the stakes are very high, but me and my friend have a plan. And that plan starts with you."

Julianne batted away her tears. Her hands shook as she clung to the phone between us like a lifeline. "W-what c-can we do?" she croaked, jutting her chin out, firming her jaw, and pressing her shoulders back, readying for battle.

God, this woman made me proud. She'd been knocked down and hurt repeatedly, yet she still found the strength to fight.

"You need to play dead," Alana stated as clearly as one would state. "It's nice out today."

"I don't understand."

"Bruno?" Alana called out to the man that had been leaning against the wall quietly, letting everything play out as we caught up.

"I'm here," he pushed off the wall and came closer to the phone. "What Alana is suggesting is we report to the media that the three of you were killed in the office bombing."

Julianne and I both frowned.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because that takes you out of the equation as a current target. Levels the playing field to the fight in France."

"Wouldn't they already know we'd survived? It's been days since the blast occurred."

Bruno shook his head and grinned wickedly. "My hacker may have edited all of your patient files after the three of you were initially hospitalized. Brenden has been treated under the pseudonym Jim Johnson. You are Giorgio Albertino, which is why the nurses and medical team have picked up calling you Gio and you didn't notice. Julianne was listed as Juliet Smith."

"This whole time we've been receiving medical care under pseudonyms?" I laughed and then winced as even the slightest movement tugged on my wounds.

"Didn't you think it was odd that you weren't interviewed by the authorities?" Bruno smirked. "You're welcome by the way." He crossed his arms over his chest, a smugness filling the air.

"Why do I think your kindness will cost me?" I muttered.

"Because it does. You owe me a fortune, but I know you're good for it."

"Thank you, Bruno. For protecting my family. I will happily pay you for your services," Alana's voice cracked through the line, but I interrupted her.

"Absolutely not, Alana. I pay my own debts, thank you very much. What I need to know now, before I break the hell out of this hospital, is what are our next steps?"

"You need to go into hiding until Bianca and Angus have been handled," Alana instructed. "Have your most trusted employee issue death announcements for all three of you. Make sure that Bianca is listed as the heir. That ought to close up any possible loose ends she feels she may have left in New York."

"And what about you?" Jules asked, her voice sounding small and childlike once more.

"I'm jumping into the pond with the big fish. This ends with me, one way or another."

"I don't like the sound of that, Alana," Jules whispered. "You're one of the only family members I have left."

"I know, chérie , and I will do everything in my power to come back to you when this is all over."

"Why does that sound like goodbye?" Julianne cried softly.

"Because I'm ending this call. I love you, Julianne. Always and forever, ma petite fleur . Your mother would be so proud of the woman you've become. So strong and resilient. Hold on to that strength. I fear you will need it in the days to come."

"Alana," Julianne sobbed. "I love you too!"

Nothing more was said as the line went dead.

Julianne hiccupped through her tears and stumbled into the seat next to my bed.

I reached for her, clenching my jaw as the sudden movement flared across my back like white-hot fire. I didn't care, needing to touch my wife and soothe her soul.

"Baby," I gripped her shoulder.

She turned her head and slumped toward me, her face pressed against my chest as she let go. I cupped the back of her head, looking over at Bruno who stood as still as a statue.

"What now?" I barked.

"We break you out of here and notify the world of your deaths. Then I hightail my ass to France."