Page 37 of Dangerous Vengeance

Intricate artwork hangs on the walls. Wood panels grace every surface of the hallway. The ceiling is low, like it was made as slave quarters a hundred fifty years ago, but I say nothing. The slap of my bare feet on the floor is the only sound. I just want to be with him, to sit next to him and know he’s okay. My heart won’t be alright until I know he will be.

Nanette opens a door and steps aside. Light floods into the hallway and I round the corner and step into the room. A machine beeps, keeping time with Matty’s heartbeat. If it weren’t a home, I would think this was a hospital room. Overhead lights flood down on his frail form, pale and covered in tubes and tape. He’s clean, no trace of blood, and he lays with a bare chest, white gauze peppered dots of blood from the wound still seeping.

I walk over to him and notice the same stout man in the corner of the room. He sits with a book in hand reading. He pays no attention to me as I sit on the edge of Matty’s bed and take his cold hand. Up close, I can see there are bits of blood still crusted in his fingernails and knuckles, evidence of how close he came to dying. It makes me tear up again and I kiss his hand and hold it pressed to my lips.

“You need to wake up, Matty. You need to come back to me. I need you.” I kiss his hand again and again, willing him to open his eyes, but they remain firmly shut. It’s only because of his wish that I’m here, but that seems so ironic, because it’s only because of my call that he’s here. “I need you, Matvey, please. Wake up.”

He has to help me get revenge for Hal, but more than that, he has to be here to love me, because what do I do now that I’ve tasted love if he can’t be here?

When he moves his fingers on his own, I stop and watch them. He wiggles them again and my eyes dart to his face. He blinks a few times but doesn’t move anything else. Then his eyes lock on my face. “Oh my god, Matty,” I gasp and lavish his hand in kisses. But I’m not satisfied to kiss his hand. I lean over him, kissing his forehead and cheeks. I never see it coming when someone grabs me from behind and pulls me away. The man in the corner—whom I can only assume is the vet—rises and waddles to the bedside as I am dragged from the room, reaching for Matty.

“Holy shit, let me fucking go!” I slap at the hands that grasp me, the same massive man who yanked me out of the car. “Let me see him!” I scream, but there is no use fighting him. I know he is only doing what he’s been told by Dominic.

There is no sign of Nanette either, and I’m ushered back to the room where they dumped me before. The man locks me in, and I slap the door in a frenzy, crying and begging to be with Matty.

At least I know he’s alive….

22

MATTY

That smell, it’s so familiar. And I swear I hear the voice of an angel pleading with me to come back. I stir, feeling a weight on my chest so heavy I can barely breath. When I do it hurts, searing hot pain that tears through my chest and shoots down my legs. I wiggle my fingers, but my eyes won’t open; they’re heavy like my chest is. But I can’t stop the feeling that she’s here, that Natalie is here in this room with me. That makes me fight to pry my eyelids upward.

I swallow and turn my head toward the sound of a woman crying. It’s dark; then it’s light—then I blink a few times. And the hand that is holding mine leaves. Drowsiness keeps me fading in and out, but I still fight, because I’m a fighter. It’s what I do. I focus on breathing, taking deep slow breaths as my eyes open and shut. The scent of flowers and candy leaves, replaced with a musty scent of tobacco smoke.

“Hmm, you’re finally waking up.” It’s Dominic. He’s here and I am alive. Flashes of what happened come back to me—being shot, Natalie driving. But my memory is foggy. Who shot me and why?

I lick my lips, opening and shutting my mouth a few times. My head hurts and I’m thirsty. I lift my arm, but a hand grabs it and puts it back on the bed. I grunt in disapproval and force my eyes open again. Brewster is here, hovering. His pudgy face is framed by his stethoscope as he presses it to my chest. It’s cool, refreshing against my hot skin.

“Strong heartbeat, Dom. He’s going to be fine I think as long as infection doesn’t set in.” Brewster’s voice is comforting. He never lies. I remember calling him or telling Dom to call him. It’s all a blur.

“Thanks, doc.” Dominic’s voice is so loud. It’s surreal.

I turn to look at him, able to keep my eyes open a bit better now. Sven stands beside him with arms crossed over his barrel chest. I must have come close to dying for them both to be here. I bet the others are out there somewhere too—Roman and Leonid. We’re never closer as a family than when one of us is suffering, and I’m glad my brothers are here for me. Which only makes me think of Natalie, and how much I want her here with me too. But before I can ask about her, Dominic starts in.

“You gave us a scare Matvey. Even Dad is worried about you. Taking on two Italian street thugs by yourself without your weapon on you.” He clasps one hand around the other wrist and watches me. He has blood on his suit, Sven too. They must have helped drag me in here.

“What happened?” I squeak out. My throat hurts, maybe from a breathing tube or something. I vaguely remember waking up to intense pain in my chest and seeing Brewster leaning over me. Probably woke up during surgery. “Was I shot?”

“Yeah, you took a round at point-blank range. Narrowly missed your aorta but got your lung.” Sven shakes his head. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

His way of comforting me and trying to make light of my near-death experience, I’m sure. Sven has a big heart but just like the rest of us, he has no ability to show or expression any emotion other than anger. His fear of losing a brother will only be played out in an increased intensity toward anyone who rebels or threatens the family for weeks to come.

“You swept in to help that bitch reporter and two Italians ganged up on you. You realize what a risk you took?” Dominic sighs. I can tell he’s upset with me, but he knows when I’m on my deathbed trying to fight for my life is not the time to lecture me. “They got away for now, but Roman will get them. But you… You defied my orders, went behind my back to involve Akers, and went in to rescue her alone like a fucking fool.”

I remember now, chasing Natalie down the street and ramming into that idiot who was chasing her. She was so relieved to see me, and I was so relieved to see her too. I wince as I try to sit up but Brewster is there pushing my good shoulder back into the mattress. “Stay put,” he orders and then his hand slides down to my wrist. He looks up at the monitors and watches them as he presses two fingers to my wrist. I turn back to Dominic. If I’m going to be locked in this bed, they are still going to listen to me.

“I need to see her.”

“She’s fine.” Sven eyes me, stern features glowering down at me. “We locked her in a room. We haven’t done anything but talk to her.”

So, they did listen to my request to not harm her. That tells me I was closer to death than they care to admit. A man’s last wishes must always be respected, and they feared I would die, so they honored my final words. I swallow hard again. My mouth is dry and so is my throat. What I wouldn’t give for a glass of water.

“If they got her…” I croak but I can’t finish my sentence. A coughing fit takes me over and I heave in the bed. Brewster pins me down, pressing on both shoulders and I cough up blood that spatters on his face. His expression is serious, and he glances at Dominic.

“He needs to rest. He can’t get worked up.” Brewster releases me as the coughing fit passes, then takes out a handkerchief and wipes his face of my blood.

Dominic sternly says, “If they had gotten her and any secrets about us she may know, we’d be done. I know that. But that isn’t the reason you ran in there like a buffoon.”

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