Eli (Sinful Shadows Mafia Book 2)

by Savannah Rylan

  Eli

  Sinful Shadows Mafia #2

  Savannah Rylan

  Kasey Krane

  Copyright © 2019 by Savannah Rylan & Kasey Krane

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Contents

  1. Giana

  2. Eli

  3. Giana

  4. Eli

  5. Giana

  6. Eli

  7. Giana

  8. Giana

  9. Eli

  10. Giana

  11. Eli

  12. Giana

  13. Eli

  14. Giana

  15. Giana

  16. Eli

  17. Giana

  18. Eli

  19. Giana

  20. Giana

  Want to know what happens next?

  About Savannah Rylan

  About Kasey Krane

  More Books by Savannah Rylan

  1

  Giana

  “Code White, E.R. Hallway. All attending staff in the vicinity, please report. Code White, E.R. Hallway. All attending staff in the vicinity, please report.”

  I blew on the steam wafting up from my coffee as the intercom kicked on. I grinned as I leaned back, taking a sip of the cream-laden liquid. I was much too far away from my point of origin, the hospital E.R. Lennox Hospital E.R., to be exact. And as terrible as it sounded, I purposefully crossed the entire hospital just to get coffee on my break in the lounge room on the opposite end.

  That way, if shit like this popped off during my fifteen-minute break, I wasn’t required to report.

  “Ditching the E.R. again, I see.”

  I smiled as my co-worker, Janie, sat down across from me. An older woman. Bigger. She’d worked in this hospital her entire life. Thirty years under her belt and slowly staring down the barrel of retirement. She unwrapped her banana and broke off half of it, handing it over to me.

  “That’s all right. I’ve never been a banana fan,” I said.

  “Bad sign for your third dates, I tell ya.”

  My jaw dropped open at her comment. No matter how innocent Janie looked--with her salted hair and her tip of the nose glasses--she was as dirty as they came. A chronically single cougar who prowled the streets of New York City on her days off, she rocked a bodycon dress better than most. If she wasn’t saving for her retirement or paying bills, she was constantly filtering her money to her plastic surgeon. Everything about her was fake. And yet, the only thing I saw on her body that genuinely seemed ‘not real’ were her breasts.

  Because hot damn, natural breasts didn’t sit that high.

  “And speaking of third dates, have you heard from that boo-boo of yours yet?” Janie asked.

  “No, not yet. And trust me, I’ve been checking my phone during this shift.”

  “Well, just keep in mind you do work the night shift. He’s probably sleeping.”

  “Or out partying,” I murmured.

  “Oh, come on now. You know how you met him.”

  “I know, I know,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You can’t expect a party boy to not party if you met him while partying.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s been your life motto.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  Janie tossed me a wink and it made me giggle. I shook my head at her as she sipped her coffee, eating her banana in ways that made married men in the cafeteria stare. I swear, whenever she policed a floor, I heard men shouting ‘hallelujah’ from the doorways of those they were visiting in our facility. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone, checking to see if he’d messaged. Or called. Or left me any sort of voicemail at all.

  And still, he hadn’t.

  “How long has it been?” Janie asked.

  “Four days,” I said.

  “Since the date?”

  “Mhm.”

  “And you haven’t heard from him at all?”

  “I got a text message that morning saying he’d had a wonderful time. But, nothing after that.”

  “Huh.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. Just weird. And you didn’t put out?” she asked.

  “No,” I said flatly.

  “I mean, not sure how he had a wonderful time, but okay.”

  I threw a napkin at her before the two of us fell apart in giggles. I blew on my coffee again, feeling it heat up in my hands. Like it was still sitting under a damn heating lap. I slipped my cell phone back into my pocket, feeling it burn a hole against my thigh. I really liked this guy. He was charming. Sweet. A go-getter, with bombastic dreams. A lot like me. Always dreaming. Always wanting to travel. But, held down his life. Paid his bills. Didn’t come attached with baby mama drama or any children he had to field.

  That was a rare find in New York City.

  “Have you ever wanted to settle down after Russ?” I asked.

  Janie sighed before she sipped her coffee. I knew she hated it when I brought up her late husband. She didn’t like talking about his death. But, part of me wondered why a strong, beautiful woman like herself never longed to have another lifetime partner.

  I mean, it wasn’t like she didn’t have her pick of the litter.

  “I just didn’t want to. I don’t believe in people having a second chance on love,” Janie said.

  “You don’t think people can fall in love more than once?” I asked.

  “Oh, I know they can. I’ve loved every man I’ve ever slept with. Ever dated. Ever danced with. I’ve loved something about them from the second we make eyes across the crowded club. Or bar. Or dance floor. Or beachside bar.”

  “I get your point,” I said, giggling.

  “No, you don’t. My point is, people don’t know what love is when it comes to a marriage. Love today is all sex, drinking, grinding, and one-night stands. That’s love nowadays. Marriage is a whole different kind of love. It’s dedication, and crying late at night. It’s sticking by someone even when you don’t want to look at them. It’s yearning for them to be next to you, even if they’re just in the other room. It’s a deep well of despair and happiness and lust and laughter and sadness and elation. ‘Love’ doesn’t even begin to encompass the kind of respect and dedication it takes to be married. And I believe, with all my heart, people only have one person on this planet they can truly find that passion and dedication alongside.”

  “Wow, Janie.”

  She nodded curtly. “And don’t you forget it.”

  As the two of us sat there, sipping our coffee, I let my mind wander back. I thought back to my childhood. To the life I grew up in. To the lives my mother and father led. They were a real piece of work. In the mafia, it was almost unheard of for a woman to take a position in the dynasty. But, my mother and my father were the rare exception. My father handled the day to day business for our family, while my mother handled long-term plans. Meetings with Dons and Underground Bosses.

  I’m so glad I got away from that life.

  When I announced to my parents I had no intentions of following in their footsteps, the first thing my father tried to do was have another child. Despite the fact that I was sixteen and my mother had half her leg in menopause, they tried. It was the biggest slap to my face, too. It didn’t matter that I knew I wanted to work in healthcare from the time I was fourteen years old. It didn’t matter that I wanted to help people instead of hurt them. It didn’t matter that I was their only daught
er. Someone they should have protected instead of casting into the depths of the mafioso family they’d made us into. The Ricci Crime Family. The most up-and-coming underground family in New York City.

  And they tried having another child when I turned my back on my legacy.

  The efforts were short-lived, though. They quickly turned their efforts into trying to convince me otherwise. Showing me how poorly the United States’ healthcare system was. How it wasn’t like the system in Italy, where my parents grew up. How I’d be treated terribly. How I’d have to pay union dues in order to be treated right. They showed me outlines of how I could climb the ladder. How I’d make, every year, five times what a top-paid healthcare professional of any stature could ever make a year in their field of study.

  It didn’t sway me, though.

  Which made me the Ricci Family’s greatest disappointment.

  I mean, my parents still loved me. I went home for birthdays. Major holidays. Other than that, though, I stayed away from them. The Ricci Family name came with a great deal of shadows. A dark past. One my parents were still carving out. That life had nothing for me. No matter how my parents wanted to package it up for me, I wasn’t a killer. I wasn’t a criminal.

  I was a helper.

  And I never wanted that to change.

  It made dating difficult, though. The second I told men my last name, they went pale and found a reason not to get back in touch with me. I’d heard it all, over the years. ‘Parents are sick, I’ll be out of town for a while’. ‘We’ve had a family death, I’ll hit you up once everything has settled’. ‘I’m about to go on vacation, but I’ll send you lots of pictures and call once I get back’.

  And every time, the excuse was met with radio silence.

  I mean, I couldn't blame them, per se. This guy I’d gone on a couple dates with was probably no different, in the end. I knew he’d snuck a peek at my I.D. during drinks. I’d been carded. And while I was usually a pro at concealing my name on my identification, I dropped the damn thing on the table. Showcasing my name as well as a few other intricate details about my life I didn't want him knowing.

  It hadn’t changed the tone of the date. But, after chatting with him at least once a day, going four days without hearing from him was odd.

  And typical, for my love life.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” Janie said.

  “I’m sure my thoughts are worth a little more than that,” I said, grinning.

  “As a Ricci kid? I’m sure. But, for now, I’ll settle with whatever plight has you frowning into your coffee.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’re the only person who knows my last name and doesn’t judge me for me. I mean, even the hospital lets me put my first name on my nametag so as to not scare off patients,” I said.

  “Eh, a child should never pay for the sins of the parent.”

  Then, the intercom turned back on. Interrupting our spontaneous coffee date with an announcement that caused me to take off.

  “Code Blue, all available staff report to the E.R. immediately. Code Blue, all available staff report to the E.R. immediately.”

  “Shit,” I hissed.

  “Now, we get to run back across the hospital,” Janie said.

  We abandoned our coffees at the booth and took off across the cafeteria. We rushed out the door, hoofing it as quickly as we could down the hallways. We whipped around corners, our stethoscopes bouncing against our bodies. Despite the fact that I was in my twenties and Janie was easily in her fifties, she burst ahead of me. Running faster with every step as those breasts of hers bounced and flailed around.

  Maybe I should just be single and deck myself out with all the bell and whistles.

  We barged into the E.R. as the paramedics came flooding through the automatic doors. A woman cried in the arms of a man as a child laid there, helpless, on a gurney. They had blood all over them. The mother was screaming about a car crash. The father begged us to save their son. And as the gurney rolled past me, I slipped my stethoscope into my ears.

  “Drunk driver, family t-boned at a stoplight. Driver was dead on the scene, and the boy’s pretty banged up.”

  I took his pulse, listening as the paramedic rattled off what I needed to know. His oxygen stats. His heart rate. How his blood pressure kept skyrocketing before plummeting.

  “Sounds like shrapnel. Janie, go get a doctor. We need an emergency room prepped. I can only do so much with stitches. And if these pieces get to his heart, we’ve got a problem,” I said.

  “A problem. A problem!? What problem! Please, tell me you can save my son.”

  I felt the mother cling to me, pulling my arm away from her son’s pulse. I whipped around, keeping my cool as I gripped her upper arms. I backed her away from the rolling gurney as Janie started calling out commands. Yelling for a doctor and calming the father down as I removed the mother from the situation.

  “Listen to me, I need you to breathe,” I said.

  “Breathe? Breathe!? That’s my son! He’s dying, isn’t he? That motherfucker, take me to my son now!”

  “Not until you calm down. We can help your son, but only if you give us the room to do so. If we’re too busy staving off your panic attack, we can’t help him. Got it?” I asked.

  I walked her through some deep breathing before a man appeared at my side. He wrapped his arm around the woman, and I watched as she curled into him. Fell into him. Trusted him to catch her during her darkest moment. I wondered what that was like, having that kind of support. Having that kind of love.

  Having that kind of dedication.

  “Giana, I need you back here. We’ve got some serious stitching to do. And he needs blood,” Janie said.

  “Go. Just keep us updated,” the trembling father said.

  I turned around, walking back toward Janie before I pulled her off to the side. I knew we’d have to care for the mother as well. She wasn’t there yet, but she’d get there. And we’d have a serious issue on our hands if she fell out on the floor in the middle of us fixing up her son.

  “Janie, I can handle the stitching. Get me another doctor to attend while the O.R.’s being prepped. Then, I need you to get an oxygen mask and a sedative for the mother. She’s going to have a panic attack. We need to be ready,” I said.

  “On it. Oh! And the O.R.’s almost ready. Just dropping the temp one more degree,” she said.

  “Perfect. Thank you!”

  We sprinted off in opposite directions and I navigated down the hallway. I found the boy, laying there. Almost lifeless on the gurney. I ripped open his shirt, trying to clock all his wounds. He had glass in places that were unnatural. He had scrapes and bruises. A broken nose I had to set. I got him started on fluids and pain medication. Something to help ease the electrical activity going on in his brain.

  Because judging by the brainwave machine he was hooked up to, he was still alert.

  “Put him out. He doesn’t need any more pain. Do it, let me stitch him up, then we can get him into surgery,” I said.

  I fell into a rhythm the second the brainwave machine settled down. I sat at his side, methodically removing shards of glass before sewing him up. I saw the entry points of the shrapnel floating around in his system. I knew I had only minutes before he needed surgery. I moved as quickly as I could, keeping my hands steady as the boy’s breathing finally started evening out.

  “All right. Surgery time. Get him prepped and get him in there. I’ve already marked the points of entry for the shrapnel on his stomach. There’s none on his back,” I said.

  “Giana?”

  I sighed as I stood up, watching as they rolled the boy toward the operating room.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “You were right. Mom’s in a full-blown panic attack. You got an update that will help?”

  “I do, actually. Lead the way.”

  I walked behind Janie, making my way for the parents. I sat down beside the mother and took her hand, rubbing her back in the process. I walked her t
hrough some breaths. I felt the father sitting on edge, waiting for me to say something.

  Then, once I knew the mother wouldn't pass out on me, I smiled.

  “I got him stitched up. He also had a broken nose, so I set that as well. All in all, sixty-three stitches on his torso. Nothing he won’t heal from,” I said.

  “So, h-h-he’s… gonna be okay?” the mother asked.

  “Now, it’s time for surgery. There are seven points of entry for possible shrapnel floating around in his system. But, the fact that his breathing is steady and his heart is strong is a good thing. He’s being rolled to surgery now, and we’ve got the best trauma surgeon on staff tonight. Sit back, hold tight, and give us a couple of hours. Okay?”

  “But, he’s going to make it, right?” the father asked.

  I hated giving false hope. I hated telling parents things would be okay when there was even the slightest chance they wouldn't be. Then again, nothing in medicine was ever guaranteed.

  That much I knew.

  “There’s only an eight to ten percent chance something can go wrong right now. Your son is in capable hands. Okay? I promise you that,” I said.

  The mother sighed with relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much for what you’ve done for us.”

  I patted her knee before Janie whisked their attention away again. She had knowledge of the surgery, and I was glad she took the reins. Because it was time for me to clock out. It’d been a long shift. Longer than most. And as the nighttime sky still hung in the air, ready to flip over into daytime within the hour, all I wanted was to fall in my bed face-first and sleep.

  Because I knew, in the pit of my gut, it was foolish to stay up in the hopes that my failed attempt at a boyfriend might call.