The Salvatores Collection: A Steel Saviors MC Romance

by Ethan Egorov

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Antonio said. “Fuck. Come on, boys, let’s go. I’m sure that Saul could use our help.”

  Saul nodded and let Antonio guide him out of the restaurant to a waiting car. A chauffeur took Pop home while Antonio and Trent attended to Saul. Saul and Antonio slid in the backseat of their car while Trent sat in the passenger seat beside the driver. Antonio looked earnestly at Saul and placed a hand on his shoulder to reassure the distressed businessman.

  Trent, for his part, just stared straight ahead, listening to the conversation behind him but not interjecting. It was moments like these that reminded him why he wanted to remain above the family business. It wasn’t a business like opening a bank or operating a coffee shop.

  It was the business of death, violence, and heartache. It was all driven by ego, pride, and other sins that spelled the fall of man over and over again. Trent loved his family and would do anything for them, but some days, he wondered if the best thing he could do for his family was to reach across the aisle to the Mikkelsons and other rivals to try and make a truce.

  “Lucille’s going to be alright,” Antonio said, sounding a little too confident for the situation. “We’re going to make sure of it. The driver will get us there in no time. I’ve already given him the details about where to go.”

  Saul nodded, but the words did little to placate him. Frankly, it didn’t look like there was going to be much of anything that could make him happy right now. A brief glance over Trent’s shoulder showed Saul looked too engrossed in whatever had happened, and Trent guessed that either Saul didn’t know everything or wasn’t willing to share everything.

  It was a strange truth that family and de facto family could share so much and yet also withhold some unexpected nuggets of information. That was another point where pride and ego overlapped a little too much. The family prided itself on being tough and closed off, but maybe a little honesty would go a long way in helping.

  If only you listened to your own advice. If only you realized doing so would have made things better with Kristina. And, I guess, Rachelle.

  But too late on that now. Who knows if you’ll ever see those two again. Who knows if you want to see those two ever again.

  “Saul, I need you to focus now,” Antonio said when Saul didn’t say anything. “What happened to Lucille?”

  Saul just shrugged, his daze distant and seeming to look hundreds of yards ahead.

  “The only message I got was from my sister, Mia, who happened to be in the area and was dropping off some Tupperware,” Saul said. His voice sounded distant and broken as if he couldn’t bring himself to say anything more. “Well, Lucille didn’t answer the door when she knocked, so, of course, she worried. She used her spare key and let herself in. Antonio, she just said that Lucille was lying on the floor bleeding, and she was getting an ambulance . . . oh, God. Jesus Christ . . .”

  Saul’s voice was cracking, and he sounded on the verge of tears. Trent had never seen their old family friend cry, which in itself was a bit of an emotional experience for him. Nevertheless, both men kept their composure, knowing tears would do nothing but cause more problems.

  I guess maybe there’s something to be said for being emotionally closed off. Hard to do your job when you’re pouring tears out all the time.

  “None of that talk now,” Antonio said, the only one in the car with a completely solid grip. “She’s going to be just fine. If your sister got her an ambulance, she’s probably already safe at the hospital. Did your sister say exactly how she was bleeding?”

  “She didn’t say. All she said was there was lots of blood.”

  This won’t be good. Even if she lives, there’s going to be more blood. I already know it. The cycle will continue, and no one can just take a step back, say “enough,” and move on.

  I mean, I’m most guilty of it, but in relationships, not in violence and bloodshed.

  The driver weaved expertly in and out of traffic until he reached Saul’s apartment at the end of the city. Saul jumped out of the car quickly, flanked on either side by Trent and Antonio. Saul ran up to the front door, but a police officer stopped him from entering the building with one arm. Were it not for the presence of many other officers, there was a decent chance Saul would have just pushed right past the blockade.

  Frankly, depending on how the police were right now, there was a decent chance that everyone would push through anyway. The Salvatores had a professional relationship with the police, but as a de facto gangster organization going against law enforcement, there was always going to be some tension. Trent just liked to believe that the Salvatores had a little more respect for the law than the Mikkelsons or anyone else, civilians included.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I’m afraid you’ll have to stand back,” the cop said. “There’s an active investigation happening right now.”

  “Investigation?” Saul said, treating the word like some sort of venom.

  “What are you talking about? Oh, God, Lucille! Where’s my wife?”

  “Sir,” Antonio said. “That’s her husband. Please let him through.”

  “With all respect, sir—” the officer began, his voice shaky and nervous.

  Before Saul could manhandle the officer and shove him out of the way, Mia spotted him in the crowd and ran up to him. She quickly flung her arms around Saul, her eyes lined with tears. Trent was moved by the scene, but on a practical level, he was just happy that the officer and the three of them hadn’t gotten in a scuffle. There was no telling what could happen in this situation.

  “Saul! Oh, thank God, you’re here. I don’t know what happened. I opened the door, and Lucille was just lying there. There was so much blood, and . . . and . . . I didn’t know what to do, so I called 911. I’m sorry, Saul, I didn’t know how else to help her.”

  “Where is she?” Saul said, barely acknowledging Mia’s emotional state, not that Trent could really blame him.

  “The ambulance took her to the big hospital, um, General, I believe. You may want to ask the cops just to make sure though. She was pretty bad, Saul.”

  Trent tried to remain steady, but he could see Saul was losing his grip. His father, for that matter, was starting to show the first cracks of frustration. The fact that Saul’s sister was telling him in no uncertain terms . . .

  This is going to be really bad. I just hope she makes it for Saul’s sake. None of this other stuff matters right now.

  “I just don’t understand, Mia. Who would want to hurt my Lucille? She’s a quiet lady and hasn’t ruffled anyone’s feathers.”

  “Have you, Saul?”

  Mia sure has a way of getting to the point, huh.

  But Saul had a point— this wasn’t a Salvatore brother or a frontman for the family. This was the wife of a family friend, a lady so old and so feeble before whatever had happened that she was more likely to hurt herself picking up roses than she was to hurt anyone else. This wasn’t just a low blow, this was lower and low.

  “No! I don’t think so. I mean, I haven’t pissed the health inspector off or anything. I don’t owe any gambling debts, either.”

  “I’m glad to hear it, but Saul . . . look, let’s go see Lucille, and maybe she’s patched up, at least, enough to talk to one of us about what happened.”

  Having a next step of action seemed to calm Saul down enough that he wasn’t on the verge of tears. Trent shot a look at his father, who watched the last few moments with dispassion and stoicism. Trent couldn’t help but wonder how much of that was genuine and how much was just an effective armor built up over decades of serving in the family business to cover something more vulnerable and deep.

  “Are you sure you didn’t see or hear anything else, Mia?” Saul asked as they walked to the car.

  “I just came in and found her lying in all that blood with a handle sticking out of her midsection. She was unconscious at that point.”

  “Jesus, I just . . . I just . . .”

  “She was alive, though.”
<
br />   And just like that, hearing the words as blunt as they were, Saul went from an emotional, nearly-sobbing mess to someone who looked like he could kill an entire rival family in one fell swoop without blinking.

  “Fuck. Let’s go. I have to see my wife. Now.”

  Saul, Mia, Antonio, and Trent arrived at the hospital, learning immediately that Lucille had already been admitted to the ICU. They walked up to the unit to see a beautiful young doctor standing over Lucille’s bed, looking concerned as she charted a few numbers. She furrowed her brow while looking at the machines hooked up to Lucille, whose eyelids fluttered.

  It was, unfortunately, not exactly the sight Trent had hoped to see for Saul’s sake. But Trent did suppose the sight could have been much, much worse, and in that regard, he was grateful that the worst had not happened yet.

  Saul walked up to the doorway slowly and swallowed the lump which had formed in his throat. Trent, Antonio, and Mia stood at the entrance of the door, able to see everything that happened but maintaining a respectful distance.

  “Excuse me, Miss?”

  “Yes?” the doctor said, looking up with compassion but not a lot of interest in Saul.

  “I think you’re the doctor taking care of my wife, Lucille.”

  “Ah, yes. It’s good to meet you . . . ”

  “Saul,” he said, extending his hand, his voice under control.

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Saul,” the doctor said, extending a handshake with a courteous smile. “I’ll go ahead and start by saying that your Lucille, well, she is indeed a very tough lady. I’d imagine that you already know this, though. She did very well on the ride over.”

  As soon as Trent heard the line about the ride over and started to connect the dots, he began to feel sick. The build-up with something nice at the beginning of this dialogue was not what Trent wanted to hear. He knew how most people delivered the news, by trying to soften it up. Trent just hoped he had misread the situation because if not, he feared Saul was going to get the news that Lucille wasn’t going to make it through the end of the night.

  “Yes. She is a stubborn lady, but the love of my life.”

  The young doctor sighed.

  It just keeps getting worse and worse, doesn’t it?

  For some reason, at that moment, Trent had a vision of Kristina lying in that bed. It wasn’t something he had consciously brought to the forefront. It just popped to mind almost by accident. And with the thought, Trent began to feel emotional and turned away.

  “You okay?” Mia asked.

  Trent nodded.

  “Sorry,” he said. “Nothing to it. More of a choke in my throat.”

  “Okay,” Mia said, clearly not believing him. “Look, the cops need to speak to me. I’m going to go and talk to them. Do me a favor and make sure that Saul doesn’t go crazy if anything should happen?”

  Mia wasn’t doing any favors by keeping the mood of the room calm. But on the other hand, Trent had to respect her refusal to dance around the issues.

  “I will,” he said.

  Mia smiled, put a gentle hand on Trent’s shoulders, and walked away. Antonio never turned to them, and Trent saddled up next to his father to watch the doctor and Saul speaking.

  “The bad news is your wife has suffered some very extensive internal injuries, so she will be on the mend for quite some time. The good news, though, is your wife came through her surgery with flying colors.”

  Oh, I guess I was wrong. Thank goodness.

  Trent let himself smile, though he made sure he took a couple of steps back so his father wouldn’t see. His father always reminded him and Tommy not to let good news affect them too much. It was easy to be on guard after bad news, but it was the biggest fool of all who let good news get to their head.

  “We were able to stop the blood flow from the artery quite easily, so she should be okay within a few weeks. The ambulance got her here in time before she lost too much blood, and she was in relatively good health beforehand, so that’s a plus. She does have a touch of high blood pressure, and I’ll be prescribing her some medication for that once she stabilizes, but otherwise, we will monitor her carefully. She is not completely out of the woods yet, but for someone who suffered a knife wound like she had, she’s doing very well. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, doctor, of course, anything!” Saul said, the relief evident in his voice. “Anything that my wife needs, she will have.”

  “Good,” the doctor said, a compassionate smile forming on her face. “I think what she needs more than anything now is to see her husband. I’ll be back in a little bit.”

  Saul walked to the side of the bed and gently took his wife’s limp hand in his own. He sniffled a few times before bringing her wrist up to his lips and kissing it. He then wrapped her hand in his own once again. Trent couldn’t help but appreciate how much had happened through the years for them to get to this point, and he let his mind wander again to the point of thinking about what it would be like if he had something like that.

  Something like that, with, say . . .

  “Lucille . . . I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

  Trent expected nothing to happen. She was unconscious, had lost a lot of blood, and was very old at that. The doctor may have been optimistic about her coming out of a coma, but that was a far cry from saying that she was optimistic about her waking up right now.

  “I’m so sorry this happened to you, my love,” Saul said.

  Trent was impressed with how composed he sounded. He had no idea what he felt, but for a man whose wife of several decades was lying in critical condition in a hospital bed, he sure seemed composed.

  “I know you will pull through this, because you are you, Lucille,” he said. “You are the love of my life. You are the joy of my world. You are the hope that keeps me going every day. You are too strong to be affected by something like this. Your body needs to heal, but your spirit remains as potent as ever. I love you, Lucille, and I cannot wait for you to wake up.”

  He leaned over to kiss her. It was a sweet and tender moment.

  And then, to everyone’s surprise, she groaned and her eyelids fluttered open slightly. Trent couldn’t help but look wide-eyed. Even his father gasped in surprise.

  “Saul, is it you?” she said weakly but coherently. “I knew you would come.”

  “Oh, my darling . . . my love, of course, I’d be here. There’s no way I’d leave you, Lucille. Not now, not ever. Do you hear me? I love you more than this world could ever hold.”

  Saul leaned forward and kissed his wife over and over, the kisses interrupting his words. Lucille could not return the favor, but the intent and the meaning was there all the same.

  “I love you too, my sweet.”

  “I’m just so relieved to hear your voice,” Saul said. “But honey, I need you to let me know what happened. What led to this?”

  Give it to Saul, he knew how to get right to business, Trent thought. He hadn’t anticipated that he’d ask Lucille anything. Frankly, Trent figured Lucille wouldn’t say a word about this, because he didn’t think she would have survived. And even if she had, he imagined they would have given her the night to recuperate.

  But Saul hadn’t become an honorary Salvatore by accident or by the good graces of Pop.

  “I really don’t know,” Lucille said, but she didn’t speak from fear. She seemed very self-assured, in fact. “I was in the kitchen and had just finished gathering up your sister’s Tupperware. I heard a knock on the door and thought it was her. Then, right after opening it, I felt something in my side and searing pain all over. All I wanted to do was sleep, Saul. I just wanted to sleep.”

  The image was much more peaceful than Trent would have guessed, but it was still painful to hear. At least it sounded like Lucille had made peace with her death, and hopefully, though Saul was happy to have her alive now, that would reassure him some.

  “Well, you don’t have to sleep yet,” Saul said defiantly. “Do you remember anything else that might
help the police? Did the person at the door say anything?”

  Trent and Antonio both leaned forward, intent on learning how this would envelop them because it was all but inevitable that such a strike would involve the Salvatores in some fashion. A strike on an honorary family member was a strike on the Salvatore core.

  “Now that you mention it, I think they did,” she said. Antonio didn’t even bother to disguise the fact he had fully entered the room. Trent followed. “I thought it was so odd. I mean, I’m not even in the holiday spirit yet, and you know how much I love Christmas. They just said, ‘Merry Christmas.’ That was it.”

  Saul visibly grimaced. So did Trent and Antonio. Trent’s grimace, though, was because it just seemed crass. Saul and Antonio seemed to grimace because they knew something that Trent did not or could not remember.

  “Okay, my love,” Saul said, leaning forward and kissing her again. “You’re here now, and that’s what matters. We’ll get the bastards that did this.”

  The machines at Lucille’s bedside suddenly started beeping once more. Before they could talk anymore, the doctor reentered the room. Saul, understandably on edge, immediately whirled to the doctor with a fearful look on his face. Trent looked to Lucille, trying to see if she was falling unconscious, but she still looked the same.

  “Doctor, why are the machines beeping? What’s going on?”

  “Please, Saul,” the doctor said, so calm that it made Trent believe the machine had just malfunctioned somehow, though that was a concern in its own right. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other from this point on, so just call me Rachel.”

  “Rachel, fine,” Saul said, frustrated. “Is she okay? Why are they making such a racket?”

  “That’s just an indication that Lucille’s heart rate is less than optimal for the moment. It’s not a major concern, but I do believe she needs to go ahead and get her rest. I’m going to give her a slight sedative. She will need to go back to sleep now, but you’re more than welcome to sit by her bedside if you wish.”

  Saul seemed relieved by the news. Though he surely would have preferred to keep talking to his wife, her safety and health mattered more than conversation.