Page 5 of Diavolo

One corner of his mouth lifted in a sly smile. "Doors, of course."

Disbelief rolled through Elyse. Between Stefano and Mikey, he couldn't possibly know which one maimed her. The man had been unconscious at the time. But she had to hand it to him. Not many patients would awaken from near death with enough composure to analyze someone else's well-being. The man's unshakable calm shook her, and his motives were confusing.

Why was he offering to backstab Stefano and Mikey? She couldn't remember the last time anyone stood in her corner, and it was throwing her for a loop. They barely knew each other. Only a fool would trust that his intentions were good. Maybe Mikey put him up to it.To test her loyalty. If word got out that she was plotting to dispose of Stefano and Mikey, they'd poison her within the week and make it look like suicide.

"Just drop it," muttered Elyse. "It was my fault. I should've been more careful."

"But anything that harms you," he argued, "hurts me,no?"

Dios, the low, smoky timbre of his voice was distracting. The man smiled again. "My life is in your hands. I must protect you if I wish to live."

Elyse glanced down. The sentiment behind his words was appreciated even if it was self-serving. She was suddenly veryaware of the fact that her fingers were touching bare skin along the muscled ridges of his stomach. She wore gloves, but—

Elyse willed herself to stay unaffected. "Don't worry about me. I'll be fine. You're the one who needs medical attention."

In wry tones, he remarked, "You are right. I almost died last night. Perhaps, we should focus on me."

Hiding her nerves behind a mask of professionalism, she prompted, "How are you feeling?"

"Alive," he responded in quieter tones. "I owe you my life, Dr. Romero.Grazie."

Grazie?Elyse wasn't familiar with Italian, but she was pretty sure that he'd thanked her. It held an echo of Spanish.Gracias.

Her brow furrowed. "You're welcome. I'm surprised you remember my name, considering the state you were in when I introduced myself."

"A beautiful woman is a beautiful woman," he murmured. "Even at death's door, it would be a sin to forget her name."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Elyse let his compliment glide right over. His accent was thicker than ever, carrying traces of an Italian who grew up speaking British English. The words flowing out of him didn't belong to a low-life thug fromCosa Nostra. He spoke like someone who'd been highly educated. Or a centuries-old vampire from a shitty romance novel.

To combat his flirtation, Elyse chose to respond in all-business tones. "On a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you experiencing right now?"

He winced, whether it was from pain or her lukewarm reception, she couldn't tell. His answer was vague, "A tolerable amount."

"Give me a number."

"Five."

Only a five? Elyse blinked a few times. He wasn't on painkillers yet. The man seemed to possess a high threshold for pain.She supposed that it wasn't surprising, given his ties to violent criminals. She scanned his body. There were remnants of old injuries all over. Punishing, pale lines. Some were thin. Some thicker. She spotted two other prominent scars on his shoulder and upper back. Rounded bits of raised, jagged flesh. About the size of quarters. It struck her then. This wasn't the first time he'd been shot.

Jesus, fuck.

How many people wanted him dead? Her hands continued to skim over his skin, expertly redressing his wound in a practiced blur. Yet, despite Elyse's familiarity with this task, the way he watched her every movement left her feeling somewhat nervous. "After I get these bandages on you, I'll run over to Benny's to pick up some antibiotics and pain relievers."

His gaze sharpened. "Who is Benny? Can we trust him?"

Suspicion clouded his handsome features. Elyse furrowed her brow as she studied him closer. There was definite fear in his eyes. Rightfully so. Someone tried to kill him less than twenty-four hours ago.

"Benny is one of Stefano's oldest and most reliable associates," she explained hurriedly, not wanting to alarm him. "He runs a pharmacy a few blocks from my apartment. It's where I fill the prescriptions for my, ah, special patients. Such as yourself."

Understanding shone from his face. "I see."

Once Elyse finished up with his bandages, she rose from the floor, away from him, to search for her keys, cell phone, and purse. "I'll be back in half an hour with your meds."

"Grazie,"he muttered again.

"Rest—if you can," Elyse advised as she moved toward the front door. "I'll make breakfast when I return."

"What if I need to take a piss?" he called after her.

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