Page 803 of The Tempted

Leaning back against the cot, I close my eyes as the attending doctor stitches my arm. I’m fucking exhausted but adrenaline is coursing through my body making me antsy. I want to get the fuck out of here, go home, kiss my kids and sleep for a month.

“You about done, doc?”

“Almost,” she says, pulling back the needle.

The curtain slides open and Adrianna comes into my view. She’s in a wheelchair; her feet propped up and covered in bandages. Her right arm is also bandaged from her wrist to her elbow with a fiberglass cast. There’s a butterfly stitch over her brow and a nasty bruise forming under her eye. She’s still the most gorgeous woman I have ever laid eyes on.

“That should do it,” the doctor announces. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

Tearing my eyes from my wife, I turn to face the doctor and narrow my eyes.

“Check on me? Come on, doc, you stitched me back together, isn’t it time to cut me loose?”

“Sorry, Mr. Bianci, but it says on your chart we’re keeping you for observation,” she informs me before pulling back the curtain and disappearing out of my view. I grunt and turn to my wife as she wheels herself over to my side and struggles to stand on her injured feet.

“Why don’t you let Riggs take you home?” I question as she climbs into the tiny bed with me.

“Looking to get rid of me?”

“Never,” I answer, wincing as I lift my injured arm, making room for her, careful of her own injuries. “But, I know you’d rather be home in our bed with the kids.”

“Lucky for us, I snatched Riggs’ phone,” she says, producing the phone she had tucked between her breasts.

“Lucky phone,” I tease as I place my finger under her chin and tilt her head back. “Hey,” I started.

“Hmm?”

I search her eyes for signs of despair, recalling how closed off she became after the shooting at Temptations, but there are no traces of shock or PTSD like last time. I don’t know if this is the calm before the storm, if she’ll break once she’s home and the dust has settled or if her skin has grown thicker since the last time we faced certain death.

“What’s going on inside that head?”

“I lost my shoes,” she replies flatly. I follow her gaze to the gauze wrapped around her feet.

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” I tell her, kissing the top of her head. “Now…the truth, what are you thinking about?”

“What happens now?” she asks softly, lifting her eyes to mine.

I stare at her silently, deciding how to answer her since I’m not sure what happens from here. I don’t want to frighten her and tell her there will be a motherfucking war, one that will likely make the shit we’ve been witness to in the past look like a church picnic.

“I mean whoever the fuck did this will pay for this, right?” she questions, surprising me.

“Come again?”

“You can’t get up but I did, and this emergency room is full of everyone we know and love. If my father was here, he’d be on the streets already, looking for mercy. So, again, whoever did this, whoever ruined Jack and Reina’s wedding, jeopardized their baby, and scarred the lives of all of us, they will pay, right?”

“You offering to take them out?”

“We could’ve died and left our kids orphans so yeah, if it came down to it, I’d be the first in line,” she says, her face set in stone.

Another man may have laughed at his wife’s offer to take out the people responsible but not me. I didn’t doubt, given the opportunity, Adrianna would take out the enemy. She’s a fighter, been fighting for what she loves since she was fifteen years old, since she met me.

What I’m saying is I know you will have a part in this and I’m okay with it, just as long as you raise all sorts of hell and get every last one but you come home to me. You come back and you tuck our kids into bed and love me because if I ever lose you I’ll lose me too.”

I open my mouth but she silences me with a finger.

“Just need your promise, Bianci,” she whispers softly. “No explanations.”

“I promise,” I say against her finger and watch her nod in satisfaction. She drops her hand and a smile forms across her perfect mouth. A little chuckle escapes next and I think it’s happening—she’s going to lose her cool.

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