Page 32 of Inescapable Ties
“But we didn’t do anything wrong?” Luciana responded. “It won’t matter if we’re here when the cops show up.”
I didn’t know if the cops that were showing up were the ones we had on payroll, and that wasn’t something I would not risk.
“We’re leaving,” I said again. “You too, Hilaria.”
The wailing sirens grew louder with every passing second. With a swift motion, I yanked the girls out of the basket. The three of us ran down the hallway and through an emergency exit in the back.
We stuck out like a sore thumb. I was covered in dirt from landing in the planter, and the girls had blood all over them. Somehow, with the help of the cover in the night, we made our way back to my car.
Thank fucking god I always made the valet give me the keys back.
Chapter sixteen
Emilio
Imademanyphonecalls on the way home, some spoken in loud, angry Italian, some death threats, and I made a few requests. I was still yelling at an assistant as we approached the door to our apartment.
Our medico, Cesare, waited for us at my front door. He was an older gentleman who had worked for Ettore’s family for over forty years. Cesare held a medical bag in one hand and looked just as displeased about the situation as I was.
I opened my apartment door and waved him in without a word.
“For the love of all saints,” Cesare said. “Can’t you stay out of trouble for one day?”
If Luciana had not been here, I would have torn into the man. My wife was injured, and he had the audacity to lecture me for ending up in crossfire?
“Can you just help my wife?” I gritted through my teeth.
Cesare wasted no time, bustling over with a brusque efficiency that was not unkind. Luciana protested as she sat on the sofa, saying how she would bloody it, but I told her I’d just buy a new one.
With precise and delicate movements, the doctor deftly extracted the sharp shards of glass from her skin. I winced as I saw the deep gashes, raw and bleeding, being carefully stitched together by the skilled hands of the doctor. Cesare had stitched me back up many, many times, and I felt little to no pain. But watching him help my bleeding wife hurt more than any of that.
The soft rustling of gauze being unwrapped filled the room as he gently wrapped each injury, ensuring they were properly protected and on their way to healing.
I stopped watching to send a text to Leone Alto, because he was probably wondering where the hell his daughter was. His name popped up on my caller ID less than thirty seconds later.
“She’s alive?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I responded. “On my sofa right now.”
“Don’t respond. Valentina is dead. She was shot in the chest three times.”
I looked at Hilaria to make sure she hadn’t heard Leone’s voice through the phone. She hadn’t. Her expression was one of pure misery as she sat on the sofa, waiting for her wounds to be stitched up.
“Ok,” I said. “Pick her up when you’re ready.” I hung up my phone and put it in my pocket.
Fuck. I didn’t like the Alto’s, but I wouldn’t wish death on them.
“All done,” Cesare said. He moved his supplies to the other end of the sofa, where Hilaria waited for his help.
I rushed over to Luciana and lightly traced my fingers along her arms and legs, checking for any areas the doctor might have overlooked. It seemed like she had received perfect treatment.
“Let’s go get you changed,” I said.
I gently guided her towards the bedroom, my arm wrapped around her waist for support. Her steps were unsteady and hesitant, like a newborn colt learning how to walk.
Carefully, I placed her on the edge of the bed before hurrying into the master bathroom to grab a damp washcloth. I came back and cleaned what blood I could off of her. There was so much dried on her skin and hair that I was surprised her wounds weren’t worse.
“Are you okay?” I murmured.
