Page 47 of The Woman on the Jury

“Alright,” I said, rolling up my sleeves, and removing my watch, before washing my hands, then making my way over toward Venezio.

I helped him out of his jacket, placing it over the backs of one of my chairs then reaching for his shirt.

“Just cut it off,” he said, shaking his head.

His ribs were probably fucking screaming. No one wanted to raise their arms over their head with busted ribs.

I grabbed scissors and was slicing the shirt when Miko was at the door again.

I left the shirt split to let him in, then came back to peel it away.

“You were stabbed?” I said, brows raised, as I looked at the wounds in his midsection.

“It was a baby knife,” he said as Miko moved past me to go grab a bottle of vodka, and bringing it over to hand it to Venezio. He uncapped it, and took a long swig. “And he was shit with it. Barely went in each time,” he said.

“It went in enough,” I said, leaning down to get a look. “See if Salvatore can can get us some antibiotics,” I told Miko as I opened up the medical kit, and started to lay out packs of gauze, antiseptic, triple antibiotic, and bandages.

“On it,” Miko said.

“Your ribs,” I said, seeing the bruise starting to cover them. “Think broken or just bruised?”

“Dunno. But breathing is fine, so I’m not too worried about it,” he said.

“Okay,” I said. “Have another drink,” I suggested. “This is gonna be rough,” I added, grabbing the bottle of antiseptic, and uncapping it as he took a long swig.

Then, as soon as he lowered the bottle, I poured.

His eyes burned and his jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

“Christ, you’re a mess,” Miko said, moving to stand beside me, checking out Venezio’s wounds.

“Feels like it,” Venezio said. “Someone’s gotta check on the girl,” he said. “She was bleeding too.”

“I will,” I assured him. “But I don’t think she wants to see this right now.”

“See what?” a female voice asked, making all of us turn and look to find Halle standing in the opening of the hallway. “Oh, God,” she said, face falling as she looked at Venezio.

I’m not proud of where my thoughts went right then as I looked at her standing there in her sleep shorts and tank top. No bra. Not leaving much to the imagination. Not that I needed to imagine anymore.

I knew exactly what she looked like under those clothes.

The curve of her hips.

The swells of her breasts.

Even a little trio of birthmarks on the skin over her ribs.

Knowing that didn’t make a difference, though. I still wanted to walk over there, back her into the guest room, strip those clothes off, and see all of her again.

“I’m fine,” Venezio said.

“You’re not fine,” she shot back, taking a few tentative barefoot steps forward. “You need to be in the hospital. Why isn’t he in the hospital?” she asked, directing her question at Miko, not me.

There was no accounting for the surge of jealousy that moved through my system right then.

I never got fucking jealous.

Least of all about a woman.

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