Page 29 of His Broken Queen

“Were you hit?” Gio pushed my jacket over my shoulder. “Christ, Romero.”

I squeezed my eyes shut as the sweat dripped down my face.

“Get me to Luciana right now.” I dropped my arm down, letting my gun fall to the floor. “I have to make sure she’s okay.”

“Romero!” Gio called my name, but I didn’t respond. “Take him to the penthouse.”

Chapter 9

Luciana

The guys helped Romero into the penthouse as Gio ushered me out of the way.

“Put him on the dining room table.” Gio pointed. “Jag, go grab sheets and towels from the upstairs hall closet.”

Joey and Salvi took Romero to the table while Jag ran up the steps.

“What happened?” I ran to Romero. “Oh.” I put my hand over my mouth when I saw his bloodstained shirt. “Romero.” I took his frigid hand in mine, noting how pale he looked.

“I’m okay, butterfly.” His words were strained. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why didn’t you call an ambulance or bring him to the hospital?” I asked. “Why is he here?”

“It’s better this way.” Gio took a pillow from the sofa and propped Romero’s head. “Brett will be here in a few minutes. He can take the bullet out.”

“What?” I kissed Romero’s forehead. “You have to go to the hospital. You can’t take a bullet out here.”

“No, Lu.” Romero closed his eyes. “I can’t take this war inside a hospital. There can’t be any record of this.”

“Why? Someone shot you.” When I said those words, my stomach hurt. Someone shot Stella too, and now…

“If I go to the hospital, they will call the police. I don’t need that aggravation. I’ll get my own justice.”

“Here.” Gio lifted the back of Romero’s head and pressed a bottle of vodka to his lips. “Drink that.”

Romero gulped the alcohol, never letting go of my hand.

Jag unbuttoned Romero’s shirt, and wiped the blood from his shoulder. When Romero winced, Gio gave him more to drink.

“Try to relax,” Gio said. “This will be over soon. Brett will give you something to take the edge off.”

How were they all so calm? My husband was lying on the dining room table with a bullet lodged in his shoulder, bleeding out, but no one seemed to be that bothered by it.

“You’re shaking.” Romero looked at me.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He tugged on my arm because he wanted me closer. “Come here.”

I leaned down, close to his face, trying to hold back the tears, but I couldn’t stop them.

“Baby, I’ll be fine. I promise.” He smiled. “This is nothing.”

“You’re in pain.” I stroked his cheek. “What can I do for you?”

“Just be here.” He brushed his lips across mine. “You’re all I need.”

“I need you,” I whispered. “You can’t go around getting shot.”

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