Page 117 of His Dark Vendetta

Loud pounding made me jump. Enzo disappeared around the corner and, moments later, reappeared with a man in khaki pants, a collared short-sleeve polo, and a full head of curly black hair.

“Luca,” the man said. “Didn’t realize you were the patient.”

“Hey, Ben,” Luca said and winced.

He eyed Luca’s blood-stained shirt. “You’ve looked better.”

Luca snorted. “You’re just jealous I still look as good as I did in college.”

“And cocky as ever I see. All right, let’s have a look.”

Luca shifted and hunched forward. He unbuttoned his shirt and winced as he pulled his arms out of the sleeves. He grabbed at the back of his undershirt. “Cazzo,” he swore, and his arms fell to his sides.

“Here,” I said. “Let me.” I pulled the undershirt over his head.

Smeared blood covered his upper back, and red-tinted rivulets of sweat trailed down the trough of his spine. Three angry welts as red as his eyes stared back at me. On his left side, the bullet had gone in and out through the meaty part of his muscle just above the clavicle, a perfect hole in his back and an explosive mess out the front. Not even an hour had passed since the shooting, yet the jagged edges of the exit wound were healed as if it had been days. Blood wasn’t pumping out of the hole, and only a thin dribble leaked from the entry wound. To the right of his spine but lower, a pair of wounds—an entry in his back and an exit on his chest—matched those on the left.

The third and final hole in his back didn’t have a partner on his chest. Centered on his right shoulder blade, the bullet hole leaked, slow and steady. The stream of blood mingled with sweat and trailed down his right side.

“There’s a bullet in your right shoulder,” Dr. Levine said.

“No shit.”

“I don’t know how deep it is, but since the other two came out the front, my guess is your shoulder blade stopped it.”

“Perfetto.”

“This isn’t the best place to be poking around in your shoulder.”

Luca glared at Dr. Levine. “You don’t say,” he said in a strained whisper.

“I need to cut you open to get that bullet out, but I’m concerned it’s still bleeding. It should be partially healed.” Dr. Levine narrowed his eyes. “When’s the last time you fed?”

“Two weeks ago, give or take.” Luca lifted a couple fingers dismissively. “There was a blood bag in there somewhere.”

Dr. Levine scowled. “Why’d you go so long?”

Luca’s eyes drifted to me and back to the doctor. “Long story.”

“Well, you’re running on empty, and after digging around in your shoulder”—Luca winced—“I’ll need you healing at full capacity.”

The doctor’s gaze drifted from Luca’s face to his lap. I hadn’t realized it, but my hands were wrapped around one of Luca’s, and his other rested on my thigh.

“Can you feed from her when I’m done?” he asked.

Luca looked at me, his eyes filled with apprehension. And hope. The moment of truth—would history repeat itself? Or could I accept Luca for who and what he was?

“Of course,” I said with a smile and tucked his sweaty hair behind his ear. “Whatever he needs.”

Luca squeezed my hand, and his eyes fluttered closed. “Thank you.”

“Enzo!” Dr. Levine called across the bar. “Help me get him onto the pool table. I need the light.”

I got out of the way, and the men moved and arranged Luca.

Marco continued to pace, cell phone held to his ear, but he monitored their progress with more than passing interest.

I massaged my forehead. “I need a drink,” I mumbled.

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