Eddie ran his hands through his hair. “I told him I had it under control. I should’ve seen this coming.”
“Don’t blame yourself. I just can’t believe he didn’t shoot me too.” She stroked Eddie’s hand.
“He’s not a professional. He probably freaked.” Eddie paused. “It’s not like in the movies.”
“The story’s all over the internet. It’s crazy.”
“How about the cops?”
“They were here already. Typical cop questions, but for once I could answer honestly.”
“I guess there’s something to be said for being the victim.” His wry comment didn’t hide his anxiety.
The waiting and mindless, vacant hours were torture. She paced, and Eddie smoked his way through a pack of Marlboro’s. When it became obvious Jonny wasn’t regaining consciousness any time in the near future, Eddie suggested they go to the hospital cafeteria. She didn’t think she could even look at food, but at least walking to the cafeteria gave them something to do.
At one in the morning, the hospital cafeteria had a steady stream of doctors and nurses trying to revive themselves with coffee and carbs, along with clusters of families holding each other together for support. They found a table off to the side and sat. Eddie folded his bulky frame into the molded plastic chair, rested his arms on the table, and held his Styrofoam coffee cup in a way that made the tats on his forearms stand out.
“He’s strong.” The glaring fluorescent lights etched shadows of fear across Eddie’s day-old stubble. “He’s gonna get through this.”
“I know,” she said without conviction.
She stared at the cracks in the Formica tabletop.
“You sure you don’t want something?” He motioned to his coffee. “You should eat.”
“I’m fine.” The sight of food made her stomach churn.
Eddie played with the plastic stirrer. “Jonny was always the smart one making it all work.” His large hands wrapped around the steaming cup. “All I ever wanted was to get paid and get laid.”
“It was the same way here in Miami,” Cheryl told him. “Everybody wanted to be around him.”
“He could’ve been one of them big executives.” Eddie smiled wryly. “Me, I liked giving the beatdowns, but Jonny’s heart was never in it.” Eddie made a fist, then unclenched it and smoothed his hand over the tabletop. “Back in the day, he got me straight, kept me from going off the rails.”
“He liked to act like a tough guy, but inside . . .” Her voice choked, and she swallowed hard. Guilt gnawed at her stomach.
Eddie sucked in a breath. “Frank’s a fuckin’ psycho.” He slammed his fist down, and the cheap table wobbled under the force. Heads jerked in their direction until Eddie’s glare made them turn away.
“Calm down.” She patted his hand, as hot tears ran down her cheeks.
“Ahhh, shit.” Eddie stood, scraped his chair to her side of the table, and held her. “I’m supposed to be making you feel better, not worse.”
“It’s not you.” Her chest tightened. “Jonny thinks I set him up.”
“What?”
She relayed the whole story, starting with Frank’s phone call at the condo and ending with the cops frisking Jonny outside the club.
“Fuckin’ bastard,” Eddie hissed.
“Max told Jonny right before he shot him, and now Jonny thinks I . . . What if something happens and I never get to tell him the truth? What if . . .” Another flood of tears erupted, and her chest heaved with long-held sobs. She burrowed her face against Eddie’s shoulder and released all the tension of the last few days and the fear of the last few hours. When the sobs quieted to little choky gasps, Eddie lifted her chin with his forefinger.
“Jonny’s a tough fucker, and he’s not gonna give up.”
She prayed Eddie was right because losing Jonny was unthinkable, but losing him before he knew the truth was unbearable.
~ ~ ~
It all seemed so surreal, but Cheryl wanted to believe Eddie’s words. Jonny was tough. He would make it. He had to. The doctors said his loss of blood caused his coma, and it would take time for him to heal. Now, five days later, reality hit, hard. The shades half drawn to keep out the hot, bright Miami sun. The room’s cool, controlled air conditioning. Machines and monitors humming and buzzing. Wires and tubes snaking their way in and out of his arms.
ICU nurses were stationed on the other side of the glass wall, observing his every move. His flawless complexion was sallow and waxy, and his skin clammy and too fragile to touch. Each breath was weak and shallow. What she wouldn’t give to hear that low-down rasp teasing her just one more time. She blinked hard, thinking she didn’t have anything left in her to cry, yet every day she sat here, and the tears fell.
“I’m here, baby, and I’ll never leave you.” She leaned closer. “And when you get better, we’ll go somewhere where no one can hurt us.”
His eyelids fluttered for a second, and his back became rigid. The alarms on the monitors shrieked. The ICU nurse swept into the room, followed by a doctor and another nurse with a crash cart. They pushed her to the side, powerless, scared, and shaking with fear.
Chapter 34
Night Club Owner with Alleged Mob Ties Dies
That’s how the headline would read. What else could explain the complete darkness? Jonny twisted his head to the side, but nothing. No shadows, no reflections. He was lying down, but where? Oh shit. Maybe he was already in the coffin. He unclenched his fist and felt warmth—human warmth—skin against skin. He reached farther, and it responded.
“Jonny?”
The darkness said his name. What was this place? Then a flash of light. He clamped his eyes shut. It was too bright. It hurt.
“Are you awake?” the voice asked.
He knew the voice. He opened his eyes again, slower this time, letting them adjust to the harsh light. His vision was blurry, like an unfocused camera.
“Can you hear me?”
He could hear her fine.
“It’s me, Cheryl.”
Right, Cheryl.
“Can you see me?”
Sure, he could see her. Why was she asking him so many dumb questions?
“Please, say something.”
Her voice was shaky and choppy, then her eyes flooded with tears. Damn, he didn’t want to make her cry. He had to concentrate and drag himself out of this foggy Neverland.
“Don’t cry.” Those two words required tremendous effort.
“I can’t believe you’re awake.”
Her voice sounded happy, but hell, she cried harder. She leaned in and hugged him, and she smelled so good. He wanted to hold onto her too, but his arms were weighted down. He glanced around the room, then down at himself. Tubes snaking around his arms, machines hooked up to his chest, and every breath tight like his chest was wrapped in Velcro. What the fuck was going on?
“Try to relax.” She squeezed his hand. “You’re in the hospital. You’ve had surgery, but you’re going to be fine.”
“Surgery?” He croaked out the one word, his throat raw and dry.
Cheryl called for one of the nurses, and he became the center of attention as they shined lights in his eyes and asked him stupid questions like his name, his birthday, and the year. He stared past them into Cheryl’s eyes, and it all came rushing back. Max holding a gun on him, Max telling him she had betrayed him.
Pain seared through his chest and a steady beeping grew louder and faster. A nurse moved to his side, pushed a syringe into the IV tube and the light faded away.
~ ~ ~
Forty-eight hours ago Jonny couldn’t hold his head up, and now he sat in bed, scraping the very last piece of lime Jell-O out of its plastic container. It even impressed the doctor who moved him into CCU this morning.
>
Now, Cheryl mentally rehearsed her confession, tossing around the right adjectives and verbs to make what she did seem less awful, less painful. She’d even written some of it down, so he would completely understand the position she was in and hopefully forgive her.
“Are you comfortable?” She fidgeted with the blanket, as her mind froze and her throat dried. The elephant in the room was sitting right on her chest.
“No, I’m starving.” He held up the empty plastic container. “This shit sucks, and I don’t care what they say, Jell-O is not solid food.”
“I’ll go speak to the nurse.”
“No, sit down.” He patted the bed.
She averted her gaze busying herself with smoothing the blanket and tucking in the edges. His dark eyes tracked her, and when she met his gaze she sucked in a deep breath, and the words tumbled out.
“Frank called me the first day we were down here. I was supposed to plant coke on you, or he would hurt Dylan. That’s why the cops came to the club.” She drew in a deep breath. “But I couldn’t do it.” She exhaled as the ten-ton elephant waddled out of the room. “I could never do that to you.”
His lack of response amped her up all over again.
“You don’t remember Max telling you, huh?”
“I remember.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.”
“And?” She braced herself for the worst.
“And nothing.”
“But I . . .”
“I’m not gonna deny what Max said blew me apart, but I saw you taking care of me, worrying about me. The nurses said you were camped out here the whole time I was in ICU, so I knew there had to be more to it. “
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” He laced their fingers together. “I told you, I trust you.”
And that explained it all. He trusted her, and she had to trust him enough to be straight with him. She’d spent so much of her life deceiving people, she’d forgotten about truth and honesty. To most people those virtues came naturally but learning to trust others, and even herself would be her biggest challenge.
“I wanted to tell you so many times, but I was scared you'd turn me out.”
Jonny struggled to sit higher in the bed, fighting against the IV in his left hand and the heart monitor strapped to his chest.
“Baby, that wouldn’t be possible.” He reached for her. “Because without you the pain would strip the blood from my veins faster than any bullet.”
Her lip trembled as she leaned into him, careful to avoid the IV, but needing to feel the warmth of his body. She’d worried about telling him, when she should’ve believed in him, believed in their relationship.
“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t pissed as shit at you for walking into that room with Max waving a gun around.”
“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t have gotten shot, so it wasn’t a complete success.”
“Forget me, Max could’ve shot . . .”
“But he didn’t, and just maybe I helped you?” She glared at him.
“You helped me for sure, but . . .”
“And you’d be having this same conversation if Eddie tried to save your ass?”
“That’s different.”
“Except for him not rocking that negligee, I don’t see the difference.”
“Eddie and I have each other’s backs and . . .”
“What was I supposed to do? Hide in the bedroom and hope for the best?” She jerked her hand away. “I tried to help, and you’re mad.”
“Hey, c’mere.” He grasped her wrist. “You’re wrong about Eddie. It is different.”
“‘Cause he’s a guy?”
“No, ‘cause I love you,” he shouted in frustration.
“You love me?” She leaned into him, and he hauled her onto the bed.
“Yeah, I do.” He threaded his hand through her hair and drew her in for a kiss.
Chapter 35
Not the way Jonny had planned on telling her. No romantic dinner at sunset. Just the two of them in this crappy room that smelled like Lysol, with lights bright enough to perform surgery, and yet she didn’t seem to mind.
“I love you too,” Cheryl murmured against his lips. “I was so worried I’d lose you and never get the chance to make things right.”
“When we get back to New York I want you to move in with me.”
Again, her silence rattled him until he saw the fresh tears in her eyes. “Please tell me those are happy tears.”
“Oh, yeah.” She hugged him to her. “Definitely happy tears.”
“And from now on, we got no secrets from each other.”
“It’s like fate wanted us together.” She snuggled closer to him. “The crazy way we met. You collecting for Frank and me being at the Oasis.”
He tugged her closer and squeezed her ass. “I tried to forget you after that night, but I couldn’t.”
“And the last thing I needed was more drama, but here we are—together.”
He held her tighter and covered her mouth with his. Her hair fell forward, and the flowery scent of her shampoo made him forget where they were. The bed dipped as she settled next to him. The warmth of her skin against his palm was almost enough. Almost.
The beeping of his heart monitor increased, and he whispered against her lips. “See what you do to me?”
“What the hell are you trying to do now?” Eddie sauntered into the room. “Give him a heart attack?” He pointed to the IV. “Sure, I’m out there busting my balls, and you’re in here getting juiced up.”
Cheryl hopped off the bed, and Jonny made a face. “Your timing sucks.”
Eddie laughed with them as Cheryl straightened her clothing.
“Will you go check on that food for me?” Jonny flashed his sweetest smile.
“I can take a hint.” She studied them both before her gaze settled on Eddie. “Just don’t get him worked up.”
“Never happen,” Eddie assured her with a wink.
“I’ll ask if you can have something besides Jell-O.”
“A nice twelve-ounce sirloin would be great,” Jonny called after her. “With onion rings and fries?”
The minute Cheryl left he dropped the smile. “Frank used her brother and fucked with her mind.” He’d kept his anger in check with Cheryl, but now it blazed through him.
“She told me. And when that didn’t work, he sent Max.” Eddie’s jaw twitched. “Fuckin’ Max.”
“I nearly lost my shit when he pulled that gun,” Jonny muttered.
“He never made it to the airport. Popped up as gator food in some swamp at the edge of the Everglades two days ago.”
“Frank doesn’t like mistakes, and Max was disposable.” Jonny drew in a ragged breath filled with anger. “He sucked him in with promises of power, but you know how that goes.”
“And he fell for it. Greedy cocksucker.”
“Power changes people.” The two men locked eyes. The simple statement explained it all.
“You were in pretty bad shape.” Eddie lifted his chin. “Scared the fuck outta me.”
Eddie’s way of saying he cared.
“But Cheryl had your back,” Eddie added.
A memory of her a few feet from the barrel of Max’s gun shot a flicker of fear through him.
“You heard what she did?” Jonny asked.
“She’s ride or die. You ain’t gonna change her.”
That truth hung in the air between them.
“I don’t want her left alone.” Jonny tugged at the bedsheet. “And make sure her brother’s safe too.”
“Don’t worry, I already got him at the apartment over the club, and she don’t go
anywhere without me.” Eddie swiped at his phone a few times, then frowned. Then his phone beeped with alerts and he swiped a few more times.
“What’s up?”
“I wasn’t gonna show you this till tomorrow.” Eddie handed him his phone.
South Beach Hot Shot in Hot Spot
Things heat up at Paradise II, where two victims were shot gangland style and disposed of behind a dumpster. Is it coincidence that Brooklyn’s Jonny Vallone was also shot? Or is a New York City mob war heating up in South Beach?
He fisted the sheets until the IV pulsed against his hand. “Who?”
Eddie swallowed hard. “Carlos and Graciela.”
“Fuck!” A dizzying rush of adrenaline shot through Jonny’s veins.
“Word is, Max was gunning for Carlos because he wouldn’t help Frank take you down, and Graciela was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Shit.” Carlos and Graciela lying dead in some dirty alley left him numb inside.
He threw back the sheet and swung his legs over the bed then struggled against the wires and tubes holding him prisoner. The steady tick of the machines became erratic, until one of the floor nurses marched into the room, all business.
“What do you think you’re doing, Mr. Vallone?” she demanded as she moved alongside the bed.
“I’m getting outta here.” Jonny jerked forward. “There’s things I gotta do.”
“If they include ripping out your stitches and falling flat on your face, then you’re in luck.” She fixed her hands on her ample hips and stared him down.
The IV dragged against his hand. His feet hit the floor, and a clammy sweat slithered through him like he was either gonna pass out or puke. He didn’t know what upset him more. Eddie’s revelation, or feeling too weak to do anything about it.
“Calm down.” Eddie gripped his shoulder.
The nurse helped Jonny move his legs onto the bed, adjusted the IV, then glared at Eddie. “He needs his rest.”
Beyond Paradise Page 18
