Chapter 41

41

Luca

She's safe. She's safe. I rub my cheek against her hair and draw in gulps of Angel-scented air. She's not hurt. She wasn't hit. When I heard the news from one of my men, they weren't able to confirm who had been hit. All they told me was one of the cast of Beauty and the Beast playing at Palermo Theatre had been shot.

My heart stuttered. Every organ in my body seemed to stop, then start again. My pulse rate shot through the roof as I raced out of Venom, the night club owned by me and my brothers, where I had returned to wrap up unfinished business after dropping her off at the theater. I broke all of the speed limits—not that the cops would dare to arrest me, anyway—getting to the hospital. I charged in here to find her sitting in the waiting room with a vacant look on her face. Then I saw the blood on her clothes and all thought drained out of me. My lungs burned, my throat closed, and I wasn't able to breathe. Then, when she assured me it wasn't her blood, the fear had drained out of me to be replaced with something so profound. Something so intense... I dare not name it. I pulled her into my arms.

Now, I rock her as she cries silently. Her body shudders and her shoulders are hunched. She tries to burrow into me, as if she wants to crawl under my skin and live there. Doesn't she know? She already has.

I rise to my feet, taking her with me, then sit down with her in my lap. I rock her as she continues to cry. I kiss her hair, her forehead, the corners of her eyes. Her lips. I close my mouth over hers and try to draw out her anxiety, her worry, the after-effects of what she went through.

How shaken she must be; I can only imagine. "You're okay," I whisper against her mouth in between kisses. "You're okay." I lick the tears off her cheeks and she snorts.

"What are you doing?" She half chuckles, half cries.

"Trying to make you feel better."

She twists her fingers into the front of my shirt and her ring catches on the cloth. I unhook the threads, then raise her hand to my mouth and kiss her ring.

"Luca," she breathes.

"When I thought you'd been hit…" I shake my head. "It was horrible. I painted all kinds of scenarios in my head getting to you. If something had happened to you..." I press my forehead to hers. "I wouldn't have been able to live."

"I'm sorry for scaring you." She hiccups. "Someone shot at Olivia. Someone shot at her while she was on stage, someone who?—"

"Thought she was you," I say in a hard voice.

She glances at me, then away. "I thought… I thought." She bites down on her lower lip. Instantly, a flurry of heat zings down to my groin. My cock throbs. I try not to move, for fear she'll realize exactly what her actions are doing to me.

"What did you think?" I ask.

"I thought you had someone shoot at her," she finally admits.

"Why would I do that?" I frown.

"Because you knew how disappointed I was about losing the lead role."

"Do you think I'm that heartless, that I'd get someone to shoot your friend?"

"I—" She refuses to meet my gaze. "I wasn't sure. I didn't want to believe it, but you have to admit, considering you're a Mafia guy and this is your town..." She raises her shoulder.

"You thought I'd have your friend shot so you could take her place?"

"You didn't, did you?"

"Look at me, Angel."

She doesn't move.

"Look. At. Me." I infuse enough command into my tone that she turns her head. She raises her gaze to mine.

"I would never hurt you or anyone who's close to you. I'd never do anything to cause you grief. I'd kill myself before I'd do that. And if anyone dares to come after you or anyone you care about, I?—"

"You'll kill that person?" Her gaze hardens.

I blow out a breath. "You're putting words in my mouth, but yes, I'd kill that person, okay?"

"So, you'd answer violence with violence? How long can you keep doing this without it coming back to haunt you? Don't you realize your way of life is going to backfire on you? Every time you use a gun, it's another bullet with your name on it that's being fired. Can't you see how you're hurting yourself by living by violence?"

"It's all I know."

"It doesn't need to be. You can find a way to put this behind you, and?—"

"Live like a normal man? Work a nine-to-five job? Go to the office and return to a house in the suburbs with two-point-five kids?"

"Would that be so bad?"

Not if you were there waiting for me. I almost say the words aloud, then stop myself. What am I thinking? When did everything change? When did Angel become so important to me that I'd consider changing my way of living for her? Something not even Michael has been able to convince me of; but the thought of losing her, of someone harming her…? I can never let that happen. I really would put myself in the path of the bullet and take that hit if it meant she were safe.

I pull her close and tuck her head under my chin.

Penny walks into the room and comes over to us. She holds two paper cups filled with coffee. She offers one to Angel, who refuses. I take the cup instead, and Penny sits down in the chair next to mine.

"Any word while I was gone?" she asks.

Jeanne shakes her head.

We settle down to wait. I take a few sips of the coffee—which isn't too bad, considering it's from a vending machine—then make sure Angel sips from it, too. I place it aside, then wrap my arms around her.

I lean back against the wall, taking her with me. I must doze a little because the next thing I know, there's a doctor standing in front of us.

"Are you Olivia Johansen's family?" he asks.

"Her family lives in a different city. We're her friends," Jeanne replies. She pushes off my lap and stands up. "How is she?

The doctor takes in Penny's, then Jeanne's faces, before settling his gaze on me. A flicker of recognition dawns in his eyes. He probably recognizes me as one of the Sovranos, which is useful when it comes to situations like this. Nothing like the threat of being offed to make anyone perform at peak capacity.

"Doctor," Jeanne prompts him, "is she going to be okay?"

The doctor nods. He flicks his gaze between the two girls. "The bullet grazed her side. So, it's not life threatening.

"So, she's going to be okay?" Jeanne asks.

The doctor hesitates.

"When she fell, she hit the edge of a prop. It cut into her cheek, and while the wound is not lethal by any stretch of the imagination, it's going to leave a scar."

"She's an actress. Her face… her face is the key to more roles," Jeanne whispers. "Can we see her?" She appears steady on her feet, but that doesn't stop me from holding her hand. She tightens her fingers around mine. "Is she awake?"

"She's sleeping. Likely, she won't wake up until the morning. I suggest you all go home and get some rest. Come back tomorrow."

Jeanne nods. The doctor turns to leave.

"Poor Olivia. She's going to get a shock when she wakes up." Penny draws in a breath. "But the doctor's right, we should go home now."

Just then, Jeanne's phone vibrates.