Page 11 of Tortured Hearts
He exhales a labored breath. “The hospital. You’re hooked up to machines monitoring your vitals. That sound is your heartbeat, and it gets louder the more you do, so unless you want this room filled with white coats, I suggest you try to keep calm.”
Hospital? Why am I…?
Then, it all comes rushing back.
The fire.
Someone sent my office building up in flames, ensuring I burned along with it. I remember my father storming into my office, and there being a heated confrontation that twisted his and Johnny’s accusations into one big coil of deceit. After that, things get distorted.
But I know someone carried me out of the blaze. A knot tightens in my stomach as my gaze falls to Johnny.A touch I’d know anywhere.“You carried me out of that fire.” When he simplynods, I add, “Why?”
“Is that a real question?”
“It’s an honest one. But I suppose you aren’t familiar with that word, huh,Gianni?” He winces, that stoic veneer cracking. “That’s your name, isn’t it; Gianni Marchesi, prince of the underworld?”
I should be furious, but I’m not. In fact, being forced to face the truth is almost comforting. I’ve spent eight weeks staring at nine out of ten puzzle pieces, only to have the last one finally click into place.
Gianni.Johnny. The two names blend, making strange, yet perfect sense.
He scrubs his hand down his face. “Becca, now?—”
“‘Isn’t the time’, right? Well, I’m sick of hearing that from everyone.” Ignoring the vise-clamp around my chest, I wiggle my arms until I’ve propped myself up onto my elbows. It’s not eye to eye, but it’ll have to do. “So why don’t you be straight with me, for once?”
He slides a narrowed gaze at Henry, who I’d forgotten was even in the room. After blinking through a few awkward beats of silence, our third wheel rises to his feet. “Right. I uh, have a thing out in the… I’ll just be…” His eyes bounce back and forth between us before he throws his hands up and shuffles toward the door. “Fuck it, I don’t get paid enough for this shit.”
I watch the door close behind him. “You should get better friends, Mr. Marchesi. The ones assigned to you leave a lot to be desired.”
“JustGianniwill be fine,” he says tightly. “I take it you heard our conversation.”
“You weren’t exactly subtle about it.”
“I thought you were unconscious.”
“And I thought you were a belligerent ex-firefighter. It seems we’ve assumed a lot of incorrect things about each other.”
“Becca, you’ll never understand what all I’ve done for you. I…” He tips his head back. “So, you know Henry’s a marshal.”
“Yeah.” Itsksarcastically. “A badge and bullet coalition, whatisthis world coming to? The next thing you know, psychiatrists will be manipulated into screwing their patients.” I flash a strained smile. “Oh, wait…”
Gianni doesn’t recoil. He simply stands there, his gaze settling on me. “I never meant to hurt you.”
“No, just use me. You’re an arsonist, but the ‘disgraced firefighter’ was a backstory you used to protect yourself from other men just like you.” I hurl one heated accusation after another, knowing the risk, yet not giving a shit. I’m too hurt. “The FBI relocated you to Providence.”
“Yes,” he says, with such cool indifference, I want to take a hammer to it.
I grit my teeth. “Yes, to what?”
“To all of it. I’ll wear every sin you want to paint me with, Becca.” My heart lurches as he steps closer. “Except for using you.” He leans forward, the scent of burnt pine paralyzing me as he braces his hand next to my pillow. “You were supposed to be a pretty decoration. I was supposed to sit in your chair once a week and play a role.”
“So what happened?”
“Youhappened. You fucking changed everything. I wasn’t supposed to find you so goddamn addictive. I wasn’t supposed to want you, and I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to care about you.”
“You act like that’s a bad thing.”
His lip curls. “You tell me. You’re the one lying in a hospital bed.” My wince doesn’t stop him. “You’ve read the articles. The objects of my affection don’t have the longest life span.”
I blink, his taunt unlocking anothermemory. One that releases a flood of fear and jealousy that sends my insides plummeting. He’s talking abouther.Victoria Fiero, the woman who died in that restaurant fire. While part of me wants to know the truth, the part that’s been dragged over an emotional razor is too raw to hear it.
