Page 22 of Triplets for the Mafia Prince

I want to slug him, but even though he’s not dead, he doesn’t look good. “No. I don’t know how to deal with a corpse, so I’d prefer you didn’t die on me.”

A small chuckle escapes him.

Feeling a little self-conscious being in bed next to him, I slip out of the bed and walk around to his side to check on him.

Now that I'm looking more closely, I can see how unwell he appears. His skin is clammy and pale, with a sheen of sweat across his brow. Dark circles shadow his eyes, which seem glassy and unfocused.

“Do you feel as bad as you look?” I ask.

“Don’t know. Do I look like the crypt keeper?”

I reach out to feel his forehead. Nic tries to brush my hand away, but the movement lacks his usual strength. "I'm fine.”

“You have a fever. I should check your wound.” I start to lift up his shirt, noting the heat radiating off his skin.

“If you want to get me naked, just ask.”

I hope that’s the fever talking. I gently pull the bandage off from over the stitchless closures. The smell hits me first, a sickly sweet odor that makes me gag. The wound itself looks angry and inflamed, the skin around it red and swollen. My limited first aid knowledge is enough to know this isn't good.

“Ut-oh,” he says.

I look up into his dark eyes, worry filling me. “What?”

“I don’t know, but the look on your face suggests something bad.”

“I think it’s infected. We need to get you to a doctor.”

He’s shaking his head before the words finish leaving my mouth. “No.”

I’m worried he’s not in his right mind to make decisions. “Without antibiotics, this infection could kill you.”

He doesn't respond, his eyes drifting closed again. I bite my lip, torn between respecting his wishes and doing what I know is necessary to save his life.

“Nic, if?—”

“No doctors.”

“You could die.”

“I’ll die if I’m exposed. I’d rather die here with an angel than by some fuck-wad assassin in a hospital.”

"Who's after us, Nic? If you tell me what's going on, maybe I can figure out a safe way to get you treatment."

But Nic just shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. Even in his weakened state, he's refusing to give up any information. “You’re in over your head. We’re better off staying hidden.”

His eyes drift closed again. I watch him for a moment, torn between anger at his stubbornness and worry for his deteriorating condition.

As much as it pains me to admit, he's probably right that I’m not Mafia savvy enough to keep us safe outside this bubble of refuge we’ve found. I'll have to do my best to care for him here.

I retrieve the first aid supplies I found in the cabin and return to him. I glop on antibiotic ointment, hoping it will be enough to stave off a deadly infection. I manage to coax Nic into swallowing some fever reducers with a bit of water. He drifts off again almost immediately, his breathing still rapid and shallow. He’s lying on top of the covers, but I find a blanket in the closet and cover him with it, hoping rest will help his body fight the infection.

Exhausted and hungry, I make my way to the kitchen. The coffee maker is ancient, but functional. As it gurgles to life, I rummage through the cupboards. There’s no fresh food in the place, but I find a stash of granola bars. It's not exactly a gourmet breakfast, but it'll do.

Cradling my mug of coffee, I wander into the cabin's small living area. The quiet is almost eerie after the chaos of the past day. I want to open the curtains to let the sun in, assuming the sun is out, but Nic had been adamant about keeping everything closed up.

My gaze lands on a small bookshelf in the corner. Curious, I scan the titles, surprised to find a few classics mixed in with mystery novels and outdated travel guides. My fingers brush over a familiar spine,Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen.

I pull the book from the shelf, settling into an overstuffed armchair. As I open to the first page, I can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Here I am, hiding from assassins in a cabin with an injured Mafia underboss, reading a witty romance novel about 19th-century English society.

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