Page 40 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
“No, he isn’t going to die,” Carmine answers for me. “He isn’t, right?” Carmine kneels next to me.
“I don’t know. He’s bleeding a lot. I am still learning about medicine. I’m not perfect. I need that blood. Set up the transfusion. He needs it now.”
“I have it,” Alex calls from downstairs, and then into the living room blood bags in hand, along with the necessary equipment.
“You have that, but you don’t have anything for sutures?” I say to Carmine in the stress of the moment, my statement ending with a bite.
“We don’t usually have injuries. I used to have a doctor, but he was killed.”
“That’s reassuring,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice.
I lean over Ari. His eyes are closed, so I gently tap his face. “Ari, I need you to wake up, okay? Wake up. Talk to me.”
Marie is patting his forehead with a washcloth, and he finally rouses, groaning. “Fuck, it hurts.” He tries to roll away from me.
“Stop, Ari. Stop. I need you to lie down.” I grip his arm to hold him, but he rips it free. I’m able to see his back. There is no exit wound.
Shit.
“Let me go. I’m fine. Let me fucking go!” he roars.
Matias sits on his legs to keep him still, and Carmine is there to hold his arms down.
“Ari, listen to me. Listen, hey—” I grip his chin and force him to look at me. “I know it hurts. You’re in shock, but I need you to relax and stay awake. So, talk to us. Tell me about your childhood. Any good memories?” I untwist the cap of the vodka bottle. “This is going to hurt.”
“Wait!” His chest heaves just as someone shoves the needle into his arm to start the blood transfusion. “Give me some of that.” He snatches the bottle from my hand and chugs three big gulps. “Fuck!” The vodka spills from the corner of his lips. “Just do it.”
I start to take a swig myself, but Carmine rips the bottle from my lips. “What are you doing?”
“Believe me, I don’t want to be sober for what I’m about to do, and neither does he,” I say, not even giving Ari a warning before I douse the wound in vodka. Ignoring Ari’s agonized cries, I wash my hands in the alcohol. “There’s no exit wound. I’m going to have to dig the bullet out, Ari.”
He bites his bottom lip and nods. “Fucking perfect.”
“Heat up something metal too. I need something big and heat it until it’s orange.”
Ari’s eyes widen. “What? Why? Why do you need to do that?”
“Don’t worry about that right now.” I dig my fingers into the hole, and he screams, arching his back, nearly lifting Matias off the ground.
Carmine presses down harder on his arms, and Ari cries in pain while I dig into his body for the bullet.
“Come on, pass out,” I say under my breath, hoping the agony will be too much for him to take.
“Oh my god, can you feel it yet? Jesus Christ, Delilah! We don’t know each other well enough for you to be inside me like this,” he shouts, which causes a few people to laugh.
“Only you would be making a joke right now,” Carmine says, slightly amused.
“Better than admitting that I’m dying,” Ari grumbles, his eyes hooding.
“You’re not dying,” I state, twisting my hand again, and it causes Ari’s body to jerk. Finally, I feel something against my fingertips. “Don’t move. Don’t move, Ari. I have it. I know it’s hard but stay still.” I lift a shoulder to wipe the sweat off my brow, my hands covered in blood.
He takes fast breaths, his nostrils flaring as he prepares himself. “Okay. Okay,” he says. “Get it over with. God, I’m fucking tired.”
He blinks rapidly, and Marie is there to catch the sweat dripping from his brows.
Ari stills, but tremors cause his body to spasm. His skin is wet with sweat and blood…so much blood. I’m concerned. I don’t know if this will work.
I’m in over my head.
