Page 65 of Wicked King

Cool, frosty skin beneath my cheek as I hold her icy body to mine.

Isa…

“No,” I grit out. “I won’t lose you, spitfire.”

The wail of the ambulance echoes at a distance before we reach the back alley of the Waldorf. Max shoves the double doors open and I sprint out into the dim alley. The brilliant blue and red lights light up the narrow passageway an instant later.

The rest happens in a blur, my mind too plagued with fear to process any of it.

“Sir, you have to let her go.” A paramedic glares at me, but my arms only tighten around Jia. “I can’t help the woman until you release her.”

“She’s my wife,” I mumble.

“Fine, sir. Now hand me your wife so I can help her.”

Another paramedic appears beside me, this one a female. Her hand squeezes my upper arm as if attempting to pry Jia from my unyielding hold. “Come on, sir. We need to tend to that wound.”

The male gets in my face again as he paws at Jia. “Do you want her to die?”

Die. Die. Die.

The word ping-pongs across my skull. Slowly, I shake my head.

“Then give her to me. You can ride with us in the ambulance to the hospital.”

I attempt to do as I’m told, but I’ve lost all control of my bodily functions. I’m numb.

“Come on, boss, let me help you.” Max pries Jia free of my death grip, and I watch, frozen, as he hands her over to the paramedic. Everything moves so incredibly slowly now—the sirens, the shouts—everything muffled, as if I were underwater.

I’m drowning.

Suffocating in fear and guilt.

Jia is hauled onto the stretcher and then loaded into the back of the ambulance. The paramedics are shouting instructions, numbers, and vitals that I can’t understand.

The female EMT sticks her head out of the back of the truck and ticks her chin at me. “Get in now if you want to come with us.”

I stand there unmoving, my soles rooted to the cement for an endless moment.

“Boss! Hey, boss!” Max grips me by the shoulders and gives me a good shake. “You have to go now.”

I blink quickly, and my head dips as I try to spur my legs into action. Max gives me a little push, and my feet finally move. The lady paramedic holds out her hand, and I grab on, then she hauls me into the back and the doors slam behind us.

The steady hiss of oxygen and intermittent beeping from the heart monitor has my own blood pressure skyrocketing. I pace the small hospital room, pissed off as all hell that they haven’t moved us to the suite I’d requested yet.

Tugging at my bowtie which still hangs loose around my collar, I finally rip it free. Over the past few hours, I’ve shed bits and pieces of my tux. Jia’s gown is in tatters, but I asked the paramedics to save the remains. I know how much her grandmother’s dress means to her, and with her sewing skills, I have no doubt Jia could return it to its former glory one day.

If only she would wake up.

She lies so still, enveloped in an oversized robe. Yéye had insisted upon the thick terry cloth as opposed to the typical hospital gown. My granddaughter is always cold, Mr. Rossi. Something you should learn about your new wife. If she survives…

The surgeon said the surgery went well. The entire bullet was removed and no fragments had splintered off. The damned projectile had been only inches from her heart. I’d spent all night racking my brain, attempting to figure out who the fuck was behind this so I could tear their spine out through their throat, then stomp all over their disemboweled remains.

Jia had been the target. There was no doubt about it; that is unless the shooter was just totally incompetent. I stood within a foot from her when she was hit. Plus, I’d been shot at the day before, so clearly someone wanted us both out of the picture.

It had to be the same shooter, right?

“How is she?” Nico’s voice jerks me from the jumble of my inner thoughts. And also, cazzo, how had I not heard him come in? He hands me a bouquet of bright flowers in a pretty vase, and all I can think is that they’re not jasmine. Jia and her light, floral scent invades my nostrils. Even my memories of her natural perfume are so damned vivid.

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