Page 50 of Bossy Ex's Brother

LUCA

I was already in a foul mood when I walked into the club the next day.

Brandon noticed it first, glancing at me and saying, “You didn’t get him.”

“Nope,” I snarled. The boxing ring hadn’t taken the aggression out of my muscles. I still wanted to punch something, most likely my brother’s face. But he was out in the wind again. Lost. I had both Ernesto and my PI friend tracking down the number to see if they could trace all the places he could be. They both told me it would likely take time before we got anything.

Time that I didn’t have.

I ran my hand through my hair, feeling a little like ripping it out. I could feel the clock ticking, feel like there was an anvil hanging over my neck, and at any moment, it would be let down.

Brandon said nothing. He simply poured me a bottle of whiskey and passed it to me. I dragged it down my throat, feeling it burn. I sat there, and we both said nothing, but I knew Brandon understood the seriousness of the situation more than anyone. He had been with me ever since the beginning. We bonded over the fact that we both joined the mafia under similarcircumstances; him because of his sister and me to take care of my mother.

And now we were both trapped in this, with a time bomb strapped to us.

“Where’s Jane?” I asked.

Brandon pointed to the dance room. “ I think she’s with the dancers. I saw her go in.”

I nodded and headed toward the dance room. I wanted to see if she was okay, but most importantly, I wanted to be with her. Maybe her soothing presence would calm the storm inside me.

Or maybe we could just fuck it out of me.

Either way, I wanted to see her.

I walked into the dancing room and heard the sounds of retching.

The dancers stood around with concerned looks on their faces, and Stella was by the bathroom. She turned around when she saw me, relief lighting up her expression.

“Thank God you’re here,” she said, running to me and pointing at the bathroom. “It’s Jane.”

My heart jumped in my chest and squeezed tight. “What’s wrong with her?”

“We don’t know. She’s been throwing up all morning.”

I immediately pushed through the group of dancers and headed toward the bathroom. I saw Jane on her knees, bent over the toilet, dry heaving. Fab squatted by her, holding her hair out of the bowl and crooning softly. “That’s right. Get it out.”

“What’s wrong with her?” I growled, startling Fab, who raised an eyebrow at me. She shrugged, but I could tell she was concerned. Jane turned around and gestured with her hand for me to leave, but I ignored her, squatting down next to her.

I touched her hair, taking over the act of holding her hair out of her vomit. I told everyone else to leave us alone. They sharedconcerned looks, but I didn’t repeat myself, and they reluctantly shuffled out.

“Urgh!” Her body spasmed violently once more. God, it sounded and looked painful. My chest tightened. What was wrong with her? I felt like each sound and movement was tearing at my sanity. Fuck, I couldn’t do this. She had to be okay. She just had to be.

Then, finally, her body stopped, and she collapsed by the side of the toilet. I drew her into my arms.

“Don’t,” she groaned. “I think some of it got on my shirt.”

“I don’t give a damn.” I wrapped her up in my arms, feeling like my heart was still gripping my chest. Watching her throw up in the toilet had done something to me and freaked me out more than I expected…just the fact that something might be wrong with her…

No. Nothing was allowed to be wrong with her.

The protectiveness I felt was accompanied by a distant fear. I beat it back aggressively.

“How do you feel?” I asked, cuddling her deeper into my arms as she struggled to escape.

“Like shit,” she murmured. “But I feel much better after throwing up. I think I should be fine in a few minutes, and then I’ll go clean up and get back to work.

“Like hell you will.” I glared down at her like she was crazy. Did she really think I was going to let her go back to work after she just got done puking her guts out? “You’re going to the hospital.”

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