Page 52 of Spiteful Heart

“Am I the milk or the cookies in that analogy?”

“Uh, I don’t… I don’t know?” Harvey’s cluelessness made us both chuckle.

I held a hand across my stomach, feeling the tightness there. I shuddered to think how shredded my abdomen was, what my stomach would look like once I was healed up. “Stop making me laugh.”

“Is that an order?”

Grinning, I shook my head. “More like a plea.” Neither of us said anything right away, both of us settling into the quietness that took over the room. The others might not think it, but I knew Harvey was a good guy, one of the rare ones. Not many were, so he should count himself lucky. “This might not be over, Harvey, but I want you to go out with Giulia on that date—and this time, it’s an order.”

He laughed at that, but then he must’ve realized what I’d said before the date part. “Wait. It’s not over? What do you mean?”

“Ask Sylvester. He’ll tell you. I’m feeling tired—think it’s time for a nappy-nap.” I wasn’t lying; I could close my eyes and get some sleep. I guess that’s what hospital food did to you, made you drowsy.

Or maybe that’s just because all of this conversation had overworked my exhausted self.

“Okay,” Harvey said, standing. “Get some rest.” He headed for the door, and his hand went for the knob. He didn’t open it, though, instead turning his head back to me. “I am glad you’re okay, Lola. You might’ve scared the shit out of me when you walked out of that room holding onto Bianca’s…” He coughed, jumping over that part, “but I’m glad things turned out like this.”

“You don’t think I’m scary anymore?”

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no. You still scare the shit out of me, but I’m getting used to it.” Harvey sent me a dimpled smile—and that smile was the very definition of boy next door, even if he was in his thirties. Thirty-two, I think he told me once? Whatever. The smile was cute, okay? “I’m finding it’s not so bad, being scared, so long as you’re doing the scaring.”

He said nothing else, leaving the room, gently closing the door behind him. I watched him go, a strange feeling in my gut, other than the pure exhaustion threatening to take over.

That one better hurry up and go on that date, get himself an official girlfriend. If he didn’t, well… I might be tempted to add him to my harem of boyfriends, and I think we all knew that wouldn’t fly well with the others.

Chapter Thirteen – Lola

Being in the hospital sucked, obviously. For someone who had been brought in for procedures left and right growing up, I probably hated it more than most. I itched to get out of there, and thankfully Sylvester was able to convince the doctor that I’d heal up better at home. So, I went home with meds and instructions to rest. I’d have to go in in a week or two so the doctor could see how I was doing… and he’d probably give me some strengthening exercises or something.

You know, ‘cause I was stabbed and all that.

Having the guys waiting on me hand and foot was kind of nice, though. Who knew my psycho men could dote on me so freaking much? Yeah, a gal could definitely get used to it.

I breathed a little easier now, knowing Tony was gone. As much as I would’ve liked to have tortured him, to have made him regret every single choice he’d ever made in his life, it was good Harvey had killed him. Someone like that was just a waste of air and space.

Sylvester and the others thought it wasn’t the end of it, that we couldn’t go on the way we’d been these last few weeks—and I think he was right. What was the point of life if you weren’t living it? If someone was out there, someone who’d worked with Tony… the one who’d saved him that night by lugging his practically-dead body out of the river, we’d find him eventually.

Of course, there was one stop I had to make the day after I got out of the hospital. The guys thought I should wait, or have one of them do it, but I wanted to do it myself. After everything… I needed to do it myself.

And so I left the guys at home and had Harvey drive me. Now that he’d proved himself by saving my life, Sylvester, Maddox, and Viper were a little more accepting of him. They still didn’t like the guy hanging around, but they’d learn how to deal. After all, I literally owed my life to the awkward dude, so those guys could suck it up.

Harvey was silent during most of the ride, but I could see him throwing glances at me in the rearview mirror as he drove. His knuckles tight on the wheel, those hands of his able to inflict an insane amount of death. I guessed it was true, what they said: everyone was capable of killing. Everyone just had a different way of getting there.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Harvey broke the silence of the car by asking.

I sat in the middle of the backseat, my back straight against the leather seat behind me. I’d just taken a set of pain meds, so I was good to go for a while. No Olympic sports for me, but I could walk without feeling the need to vomit. Now, those antibiotics they got me on, just in case? Those made me nauseous, for real. But those I only took at night before bed and in the morning with breakfast. Had to take ‘em with food, too, otherwise that sick feeling was worse.

“It needs to be done,” I said, meeting Harvey’s gray eyes in the mirror. He knew better than to argue with me, so he only nodded. Sylvester had offered to come with me—they all did, really—but this was something I needed to do myself.

Harvey took us downtown, driving up to the one gentleman’s club I’d seen far too much of in my time here. And yet, here I was for more. Harvey was quick to park the car and get out when he turned her off. He came around to the rear door facing the club, opening it for me and helping me out by offering his hand.

I took it and let him pull me out, my midsection tight. I wore baggy yoga pants, combat boots, and a loose pink shirt; the shirt hid the ugly stitch work on my side. Yeah, I’d definitely have another nice scar there. It’d go great with the one I’d gotten when I was younger, when my parents had the doctor sterilize me.

I did have a small cut on my chin and cheek, but it had already started to scab up. I wasn’t too worried about that one scarring. I didn’t think it was deep enough.

Craning my head back, I stared up at the Gilded Rose’s sign. Since it was the middle of the day, the sign was off. As it was, the place had been closed ever since the body. It was a lot to clean up, and I was sure Newton didn’t want even the faintest trace of blood or cleaner in the air to linger by the time he re-opened its doors.

I’d called him, told him I wanted to meet with him here, so even though the place looked closed, I knew he was in there, somewhere. Probably with a few men of his own, just in case. With as many psychos running around the underbelly of this city, you could never be too careful.

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