Page 48 of The Woman on the Jury

It made sense that she felt more comfortable talking to Miko than me. She’d spent every day with him. And, sure, he was supposed to just be standing outside, but judging by the way she was looking to him, it was clear they’d interacted at least a few times.

And, well, Miko was just more personable.

It could be annoying to go places with him, because he always knew everyone and had a word or two for them. It was impossible to just walk through a bar without stopping a few times.

Frustrating for me, but I had to admit that he was playing the long game. He was creating a reputation, gaining favor among the neighborhood. So when he got to become a capo, he’d have the support of the community.

“He don’t wanna be, sugar. Gotta respect his wishes, no?” Miko asked, and I felt my eyes narrowing at that pet name.

“Ah, no,” Halle said, face scrunched up. “Not when he could, you know, die,” she said.

“Says the woman with the head wound,” Miko shot back.

“Not to interrupt or anything, but we gonna finish this shit, or not?” Venezio asked, making us all turn back to him.

“You need to go to the hospital,” Halle insisted, this time addressing Venezio. “You can’t even walk. Have you even looked at his leg?” she asked, moving forward.

“Don’t think you wanna see—“ Miko started to warn her.

But then she was close enough to see.

I had to give her credit.

Her face blanched.

But she took a breath and kept moving forward.

“You didn’t say you were stabbed,” she told him, tone accusatory.

“Was a little busy keeping you from side-swiping every fucking car on the street,” Venezio said, lips twitched up ever so slightly. Like he’d found the whole thing charming. Despite the whole life-and-death shit that was going on.

“I wasn’t that bad,” she insisted as she lowered down beside him, reaching outward to start rolling up his pant leg.

“I might have a mild case of whiplash, but it coulda been worse,” Venezio said, then damn near jumped out of his skin when she continued to roll up his pant leg.

“Here,” I said, moving over there to grab the scissors to start to cut the thick material.

“I was half expecting to see a bone sticking out,” Halle admitted, letting out a deep breath.

“You gotta get a scan,” I told him, seeing him about to object. “You’ll do me no fucking good dead from sepsis because you wouldn’t get a fucking picture taken of your leg,” I said.

“Fine,” he ground out, but didn’t look happy about it.

“We’ll clean you up first, so you don’t have to tell them about all this other shit,” I said, waving to his abdomen. “You can just say you were jumped.”

“What is the big deal about getting treatment?” Halle asked, still kneeling beside Venezio’s leg, and I had the almost over-fucking-whelming urge to tell her to move. That urge was the exact reason I didn’t let myself do it as I reached for the triple antibiotic to finish working on his stab wounds.

I was on the second one, and Venezio was taking another long swig of the vodka, making Halle’s brows scrunch in concern, when the buzzer went off.

“Gotta be Salvatore,” Miko said, walking over toward the door to look at the screen there, then letting him up.

“Who’s Salvatore?” Halle asked, moving to stand, suddenly seeming to remember her state of relative undress, and crossing her arms over her chest.

It was no use.

All it did was make her tits pop upward, ready to spill out the top of her tank top.

“He’s like a doctor for the Family,” Miko said as he moved back, his voice making my gaze finally lift from her tits.

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