by Howes, Ann
My knees?
Weird.
I feel nothing, just a strange vibration throughout my body. I look down. My jeans are ripped and bloody, but I don’t care about my knees. All that matters is Billy. “Is he going to live?”
“Can’t say,” he says as the firetruck parts the crowd. Two men jump out and rush toward us.
Then Brillo pad man grasps the back of my shoulders, gently guiding me to the truck and indicates I should sit on the metal ledge below the doors.
“Stay here. Gonna talk to them for a minute, but I’ll be back.” He walks back to the medics kneeling beside Billy. One of them greets him as he drops to their level. A brief conversation ensues and after a few head nods, he returns, stopping to pick something off the ground.
“What’s your name?”
“Shelley De Luca.”
“I’m Randy. These your friend’s car keys?” I recognize them and take them, noticing for the first time the deep scrapes on my palms.
“Oh hell,” Randy eyes my hands. “That’s gotta hurt. You have someone you can call?”
I nod and reach into my purse. My hands shake so much, it takes me several tries before I can enter the passcode on my phone. Then I stare at it, unable to focus on what to do next.
“Let me make the call. Who should I try?”
Oh God.
Who indeed?
Not Cass, she’ll be working and probably in the middle of a highlight. Joey’s dead and Billy’s lying in a crumpled heap, dying. That leaves only one person.
“Gianni…with a G.”
Randy scrolls through my phone, pushes the button and hands it back to me. The phone rings several times.
Don’t ignore me.
Please don’t, not now.
After the fourth ring, I’m about to hang up when he answers.
“De Luca.” His tone is flat and not exactly inviting, and who can blame him after last night, but my breath catches at the sound of his voice.
“Gianni, I’m sorry to ask but…” My voice is thick from the lump in my throat. I stop to sniff and wipe my nose on my sleeve.
“What is it?” Not so flat anymore.
“Um…”
“Shelley, what’s wrong?”
“He’s hurt, Gianni. Bad. I don’t know if he’s going to make it.”
“Who’s hurt, babe?”
“Billy. Somebody ran him over with a car.”
“What the...? Where you at?”
“Marina District. Near Divisadero, you’ll see the lights and the firetruck.”
“What about you? You hurt?”
“No…not really”
“Stay put. I’m on my way.” I hear the two beeps indicating the connection’s lost, making me feel lost. I drop my phone back in my purse and find a clean paper napkin I’d taken from the burger joint. Wipe the tears and blow my nose then toss it back into my purse. A few pieces of tissue stick to drying blood and to keep myself from freaking out, I pick them off.
Randy takes my hands, turns them palm up. Now that the shock’s wearing off, they’re beginning to hurt.
A lot.
“These need cleaning and treatment. When your friend gets here, have him take you to the trauma unit at SF General? They’ll take your friend there.”
I stare at him, then swallow.
“Shelley, nod if you understand what I’m saying.”
“Yeah, I hear you…trauma unit.”
The ambulance arrives and the paramedics cede Billy over. “Can I go with him in the ambulance?”
“You’d be in the way.”
“But what if he… I need to…you know?”
“They’re professionals. Let them work.”
They lift Billy onto the gurney and slide him into the ambulance.
A tall Asian cop with perfect, pale golden skin and short-cropped black hair approaches me. “Ma’am, would you mind answering a few questions?”
God.
“Can you tell me what happened?”
“She’s in shock, Dwain,” Randy says, heading him off.
“Reason I need to ask her now.”
I stare past him, but he’s blocking my view. All I care about is Billy, and I need to see what’s happening. I sway to the side.
“Dwain, not now.”
“Quit it, Randy, I have to do my job.”
Somehow it registers they’re familiar with each other. The cop steps in front of me again. Like a pendulum I move to the other side and as the medics close the ambulance doors and prepare to leave, I see Gianni walking towards us.
He came.
His eyes are on me but he stops to talk briefly with the medics.
Watching him, and the authority in his stance, knowing he came for me, suddenly everything’s too much. My face crumples, my arms find their way around my waist and I bend double.
In less time than it takes for me to let out a sob, he’s in front of me. “Out of my way,” Gianni orders the cop. “I need to get to her.” A moment later he’s on his haunches clasping my shoulders. “Woman, thought you said you weren’t hurt.”
“I’m not…compared to Billy. I can’t lose him, Gianni. I can’t. Not him too.”
“Fuck me.” He breathes in deep and positions himself on the ledge next to me. “Come here.” A solid, warm arm hooks around my shoulders and a big, warm hand cradles my head to his chest. My cheek’s close to his heart, the rhythmic thumping feels fast, but nice. Safe…and intimate, like home, and I allow myself to relax against him.
“I got you,” he murmurs into my hair while I cry into his shirt. “Told you, you’re gonna need me. Wasn’t expecting so soon.”
The ambulance chirps and I try to move away, but his arms tighten around me, almost like he’s the one who needs reassuring, but that’s just my imagination. He tugs my ponytail, forcing me to look into his eyes. His gaze is intense and his voice gruff when he says, “That’s the last time you lie to me.”
I blink.
“You get me?”
“I didn’t…”
“De Luca.”
I blink again. “Gianni, I…”
“Shut it, babe,” he says softly.
“Okay,” I whisper back.
He stares for a few seconds more giving me one more squeeze before releasing me. “Come on, let them clean you up.”
“I’d rather follow them,” I say, standing. “I’d take Billy’s car, but don’t think I can drive.” Then to prove me right, my legs buckle.
“Whoa.” Gianni catches me under my armpits, then gently moves me backward, forcing me to sit again. “Take it easy. Your face has no color.”
“Can you take me to the hospital?”
“After they wash your wounds we’ll follow them.”
“I’d rather go now.”
“What did I tell you?”
“Um…?”
“Shut it, babe. The sooner they take care of you, the sooner we can get out of here.”
He waits for me to nod, then steps aside as one of the firemen, followed by Randy, approaches with a plastic bottle of something.
“This is going to sting,” Randy says. “Prepare yourself.”
He’s right. It stings like I got stuck by a swarm of hornets. I hiss, sucking in air through my teeth as he pours the liquid over the wounds then takes a closer look.
“Gravel’s embedded too deep for us to take care of it. Needs removing in the emergency room.”
“Let’s hit it then, De Luca.” Gianni helps me stand again, keeping me close with an arm around my waist.
“Wait. Mr. Cadora?” The forgotten cop, who’s hovering in the background, speaks up. “I’m going to need details from her before she leaves.”
“Not now, Officer…Lee,” Gianni says, glancing at his badge. “You heard the man. I’m taking her to the hospital. You can interview her later, if you have to.”
Before the cop can protest, he nudges me gently, suggesting I should walk. Then guides me to an intimidating white truck. As I’m wonde
ring how the hell I’m going to get in, he opens the door and stations me in front of him.
“Put your arms around my neck and hold on.”
When I’ve done so, he dips, grasps my hips, then boosts me up like I weigh nothing.
“Get settled,” he orders when I’m in the seat. “But don’t try to do your seat belt.”
He pushes the door closed, and through the tinted window, I see the cop’s followed us. Gianni removes his jacket while shaking his head at something Officer Lee’s saying and a moment later he climbs in. That leather jacket lands on the back seat next to a white construction hat with a logo that reads GLC Construction. Something about those letters intrigue me. I can’t help feeling I’ve seen them before. Obviously, they’re his initials, but…something nags.
He leans and reaches across me for the seat belt. The inside of his arm brushes against my breast. Despite the pain, a tingle radiates out from my nipple. My breath seizes while he pulls the strap and latches it. That thick lock of wavy hair falls across his face and brushes against my nose. It smells faintly of green apples.
His eyes, usually so clear and blue, are stormy gray and locked with mine. “I know you’re hurting but I’m gonna need you to start talking.”
How can a man be so beautiful? Those eyes drop to my mouth. His own lips part slightly and for an absurd moment I believe he’s going to lean in and kiss me but he swallows and shifts away to start the engine.
“Tell me what happened,” he says, his voice a little gruffer than normal, as he eases into the street.
“Well, actually, it’s a little…um, complicated.”
“Complicated how?”
“It wasn’t an accident. Billy was run down on purpose, but I think whoever did it was aiming for me.”
“Jesus,” he mutters while scraping a hand over his stubble. It should be noted, he still hasn’t shaved. “Does this have anything to do with what happened to your face?”
The gravity of Dean’s actions weighs heavy and my breath hitches.
“De Luca, speak. I can’t protect you unless I know what’s going on.”
So I tell him about Dean, the shooting range and the text message.
When I’m done, without looking at me, he asks, “Who is this prick?”
“His name’s Dean Melnikov.”
I sense rather than see him tense and that crackling thing is back. In the confined space of the truck it’s intensified and a lot scarier.
Gianni’s quiet for a bit, but judging by the way he clenches the steering wheel, he’s by no means pleased.
“Melnikov,” he states finally, and drags his hand through his hair.
“Yep.”
“That asshole?”
“You know him?”
He cuts a look that’s loaded with death and I’m not entirely sure it’s not directed at me.
Duh!
Of course he knows him. All these mafia dudes know each other and I don’t know what to do with that.
“All the fucking men in San Francisco, and you pick him.”
“I didn’t actually pick him and I didn’t know who he was. Can we not go there? I don’t want to argue about him anymore.”
“Problem is, woman, we’re not going there. We are there.”
“I get it, okay. I got enough crap from Billy…oh God…Billy.”
Please let him be okay.
Gianni’s chest rises, then as he lets his breath out his face softens, seemingly tamping down his anger. “He’ll be fine. He’s tough and nobody’s killed him yet.”
“He saved my life.” Suddenly the magnitude of what Billy did for me breaks through. My throat tightens, my voice comes out a little strangled. “He pushed me out of the way, but his leg…he couldn’t move fast enough to save himself. Should’ve been me.”
The back of Gianni’s knuckles press into my thigh and I zero in on the warmth that generates. “Shouldn’t have been either of you.”
I turn my head to the window, pressing my head against the seat so he can’t see me cry.
A few minutes later we arrive at San Francisco General Hospital and Gianni drives to the Emergency entrance, puts the truck in park and turns to me.
“Where’s your gun?”
“In my purse.”
He reaches down between my legs and pulls my purse on his lap, then digs in. When he has it, he checks the safety is on. “We’ll stash it in here for now.” He pats the black leather console between the two seats and pops open the cover. “You can’t take it inside and you definitely don’t want to mention it to that cop, Lee.”
As a hospital orderly approaches, Gianni slides out of the truck. They have a few words and within moments, the man produces a wheelchair and parks it on my side of the truck.
“I’ll see you inside,” Gianni says when I’m seated. “I’ll park, then be right back.”
The sun, although low in the sky, indicates there’s still at least two hours of daylight. Therefore, the Emergency Room isn’t overwhelmed yet with the usual Saturday night shootings, drunken brawls and general mayhem that happen over the weekend.
Gianni finds me as I’m about to be seen by a young, on-call doctor with jaded eyes that have more than likely witnessed too much and probably forgotten too little.
My body’s begun to stiffen and with the aid of a nurse, they lay me on a gurney behind a small, curtained-off area.
“I don’t want to leave you, but I gotta check on Billy,” Gianni says. Little worry lines forming that Y between his brows. “Will you be okay while I’m gone?”
“Of course,” I manage to utter, as it’s hard for me to speak due to the pain.
“Fuck,” he mutters. Then turns to the doctor and grits out an order. “Give her something to make her more comfortable.”
The doctor opens his mouth to speak but one look at Gianni’s face changes his mind. He shoots instructions to the nurse instead who scurries away, eyes wide, clearly not willing to challenge him either.
“You have your cell?” He waits for me to nod. “Call if you need me, I won’t be far.”
Then leaning in, he does something amazing and surprising that makes my pulse skip. He kisses my temple right next to my bruised eye. It’s gentle and his lips linger long enough to make it something other than a friendly kiss, leaving me stunned and disoriented.
So much so that I forget to breathe and can’t take my gaze off his back while he strides past the nurses’ station. I wonder if he can feel my eyes on him.
A tug at my jeans brings me back. “Let’s see the damage,” the doc says, cutting the fabric above my knees, turning them into shorts. He seems almost bored with my injuries until he produces a syringe. “Got to shoot you up with a local, so I can scrub you and get rid of the gravel.”
My face contorts into a grimace and since I hate needles, I turn away while he jabs me. When I’m numb he scrubs my wounds with a brush and antiseptic solution. A tetanus shot later, he instructs the nurse to “bandage her.”
To me, he says, “Going to give you a prescription for Vicodin and antibiotics. Fill it soon, ’cause once that anesthetic wears off, it’s gonna hurt.”
“Thanks,” I mumble. When the nurse has done her thing I ask. “Can you show me where the restroom is?”
“Down the hall and to the left.”
I drag myself to the bathroom and bend. Since my hands are bandaged I have to run cold water directly from the faucet over my face. That’s when I feel the first beginnings of nausea swirling deep in my stomach.
Crap.
My reflection tells me I’m a mess. My eyes are swollen from crying, the black around it blacker than ever, hands and knees bandaged and I look ridiculous in my new cutoffs and combat boots.
Only thing I got going for me is I shaved my legs last night.
After the bathroom, I head back to the nurses’ station where they hand me my prescription and instructions to take my pill soon.
Gianni’s back, talking to the cop we left at the scene. As I walk
towards him, my heart jumps when his impossibly blue eyes fix on me.
For the first time, I get a good look at what he’s wearing. Paint-stained jeans, brown, steel-toed boots and that beat-up leather jacket. His go-to outfit it seems, unless I’d taken him away from work.
As I approach, he runs his fingers through his hair, giving off a vibe that things aren’t great and suddenly I can’t breathe.
“What’s wrong…? Is Billy…?”
Gianni swallows and blows out air. “He’s in surgery. Cracked ribs, broken pelvis, internal damage but he has a decent chance if he survives the surgery and his heart holds out.”
If?
“No…no, he can’t die.” I shake my head feeling that first wave of panic beginning to rise and mingle with the nausea in the deepest pit of my stomach. “I just got him back.”
“Ah fuck.” He steps closer, grabs my upper arms and squeezes. “You gotta keep it together, De Luca. I’m here for you, babe, but there’s nothing we can do here and you’re on your last legs.”
“I want to stay, please. Don’t make me go.”
“Can’t do that, babe. He’ll be in surgery for hours. Carmine and his mom are on their way.”
It hits me then I’m an awful person for not even thinking about his family.
“Gonna take you to my place, where you can get some rest. You can’t go home.”
His place?
“Miss De Luca,” Officer Lee interrupts. “I have a couple of questions before you leave.”
“What?” I stare at him, wide-eyed, still trying to process what Gianni said.
“Do you know who would want to do this to your friend?” I glance at Gianni, who’s staring at me from behind him. His place?
“Miss De Luca?”
Oh yeah, the cop. “Um…I can’t say for sure.”
“What about the car, do you remember what it looks like?”
“Uh…a station wagon, an old one. I didn’t see much because it was behind us, and Billy pushed me out of the way.”
“What about the model or color? Belong to anyone you know?”
I close my eyes to picture it. “Dark blue.” Then my eyes fly open and I swallow. “A Volvo station wagon.”
The same Volvo I saw at the range! Dean had one of his goons tailing us all morning…or longer.
That nausea that’s been building suddenly becomes overwhelming. “Uh…Gianni?”
