Page 121 of His Tesoro

Pain swam through my arm and shoulder, and I gritted my teeth against it. “Can you put my arm back in place once we land?” I asked Angelo.

He looked at me with panic. “Shouldn’t a doctor do that?”

I shook my head. “I’ll tell you how to do it. It’s not hard.”

A wave of nausea washed over me and I didn’t know if it was caused by anxiety, morning sickness, or pain. The helicopter hit a patch of turbulence and my stomach lurched.

“Was riding a helicopter on that list of yours?” Angelo asked. He was trying to distract me, and I appreciated him for it.

“No, it was not.” And for good reason, apparently, as we hit another bump. “I think I’ll be sticking to airplanes. Or better yet, cars.”

Leona smiled broadly. “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Must have left it back in New York,” I muttered.

I placed my hand on my belly and willed my baby to be okay. I hated that I couldn’t do more to protect them almost as much as I hated myself for missing Matteo. I kept getting assaulted by memories—of him being tender with me, of the feel of his arms and the brush of his lips. I’d felt protected and safe with him.

Until I hadn’t.

I faced the window and wiped tears from my face.

The helicopter flew lower as we neared an empty airstrip surrounded by fields.

“Once we land, our pilot, Finn, will drive us to see Ronan. We’ve been doing some work out here in western Mass, which is why we’re not landing in Boston.”

“What kind of work?” Angelo asked, voice hard.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out,” she said with a wink.

Angelo met my gaze, looking as unimpressed as I felt, but there wasn’t time to say anything further as we were landing. I gritted my teeth as I was jostled around, every movement aggravating my shoulder.

I let out a pained cry once we touched down, and Angelo was instantly in front of me, his knees pressing against mine.

“Tell me what to do.”

“You need to help get the shoulder back in place, but you don’t have to force it. Just put your hand on my elbow and let the weight of your hand pull it down.” I bent my right arm, and he moved his hand to the crook of my arm. “Now, take your other hand and massage my shoulder and bicep.”

He did what I asked, looking serious and focused as he held me firmly. The pilot—Finn—and another man who’d been sitting up front watched us curiously as Angelo continued his massage. After a few minutes, my shoulder shifted. “I think it’s back in.” My muscles were still sore and I knew I needed to be extra careful for the next few days, but I was able to move my arm around more easily.

“Wow, I expected that process to be more dramatic,” Leona said.

“Oh, I try to keep my life low-drama,” I deadpanned.

She snorted. “That’s exactly how I would describe?—”

“Leona,” Finn bit out. “Approaching.”

All of them, including Angelo, pulled out their guns. I cursed internally that I still didn’t have a weapon. I should have pushed harder to get one. At least then I wouldn’t be a complete sitting duck, stuck in a helicopter I couldn’t even get out of on my own.

“It’s not our men,” Leona said, all traces of humor gone from her voice.

I leaned forward enough to see a line of black cars approaching.

“Shit,” Finn said. “Can we make it to our car in time? Or should we try to get off the ground and land somewhere else?”

Furtive glances came my way, and my cheeks burned. I was obviously the weak link here.

“Start the engines, Finn,” the other man said. “We should have enough fuel to get to Westover Airport.”

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