Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
KATE
Waving the metal detector over Angelo’s chest, I’m still in shock Frankie was able to have the supplies in under an hour. Truthfully, I expected a ton of excuses as to why it was taking longer than anticipated, followed by products I wouldn't use on Satan himself. Instead, Frankie and several men showed up carrying box after box containing top of the line equipment and an abundance of the medication I requested.
“Bingo.”
Elation fills my chest when the detector lights up as I scan over where I’d drained earlier. “Let’s see what is causing this infection, shall we.” I speak softly to Angelo, laying my gloved hand on his arm.
Dante stands like a Roman Sentry at the end of the bed, arms crossed over his massive chest, which was thankfully covered by a black sweatshirt. My sensibility left me earlier as I took in the manliness of his chest. Muscles, perfected by either hard work—which given what he did for a living, was doubtful—or time in a gym, which was more likely the case. A dusting of hair rested in the center, well groomed and I imagine, combed by more than a few feminine fingers. It was the tattoo over his heart which stole my breath, a pair of praying hands with a rosary intertwined within the fingers—tiny and clearly feminine fingers. I suspect they’re the hands of his wife, a clever way to put her brand on him without the bad luck which came from tattooing a name.
“I’m going to assume you’re not squeamish when it comes to blood.” Keeping my tone professional, I glance at his face briefly as I begin assembling my sterile field.
“You know what they say about assuming.” He snickers, the corner of his mouth upturning in smirk.
Opening a sleeve of sterile gloves, I keep my eyes on my fingers as I empty the package. “Please ask Frankie or one of the men who isn’t to come assist me then.”
Reaching for a box of blades, Dante’s hand covers mine, halting my progression and pulling my attention to his dark eyes.
“I was trying to make you smile, Tesoro.”
Dante Cavaletti should come with a warning label. Something to the effect of my smile is a trap, I’ve used it to break hearts, steal virtue and have the receipts to prove it.
“I’ll smile when he is awake and boarding a plane.” My tone is bordering on arrogant, however, the relationship between us changed the moment I chose to go from captive to employee.
“Show me what you need me to do.” Dante rounds the side of the bed, coming to stand beside me. All traces of humor are gone from his handsome face, the seriousness of the moment reflected there now.
“I need you to put on gloves,” I point at the box of sterile gloves on the nightstand. “I’m going to reopen the wound and remove whatever is in there causing this infection.” Dante nods his head as he reaches for the box. “If the smell from earlier made you nauseous, there are masks over there that will help.”
Picking up a sleeve of gauze, I hold it in the air between us.” I need you to wipe away all the blood and drainage once I get into that wound.”
Wrapping his fingers around the sleeve of gauze, I hold tight and don't release as I continue. “Your sole job is to keep the area clear so I can see what I’m cutting. Do you understand?”
A dip forms in the area between Dante’s brows, the imperfection doing nothing to diminish how handsome he is. “Yes,” he responds softly, his tone so foreign it gives me pause.
“Good, let’s begin.”
Donning my gloves, I pick up a betadine swab and cleanse the wound. Angelo hadn’t regained consciousness, however I had a look at the CT scan of his head before my shift the other day, so I know it’s his body trying to heal itself. Right now, I'm thankful. If he’d been awake, what I’m about to do would hurt like a bitch.
Using a pair of scissors and tweezers, I clip the sutures, tossing the ends to the side, pleasantly surprised when Dante immediately swipes at a tickle of discharge that escapes the edge.
Had we been in a hospital setting, I would have asked Dante to swab the discharge and send it to the lab. However, given the circumstances, I will have to trust my nose to identify the bacteria.
Dante doesn't fail me as he keeps my view free of drainage as I search for the source of the metal. What feels like forever, I feel the tip of the blade scrape something solid.
“Gauze.” Holding out my hand in Dante’s direction, not wasting a second when he places several in my open hand. I wipe and scan, frustration settling in, until suddenly I see a speck of gold against the sea of red.
Grasping the tiny fragment with the tweezers, “There you are.” Removing the sliver of metal from Angelo’s chest, I drop it on the paper which housed my gloves.
“That tiny bastard caused all of this?” Dante jerks his head toward the fragment as he continues to wipe the oozing wound.
“The body is fickle that way. I once had a patient who had to have a toe amputated when he got a piece of wood embedded under the skin. His body tried to reject it, however the skin around it died in the process.”
Heavy silence falls between us as I make sure there isn’t anything else hiding in the tissue before stitching the wound closed. Dante remains rooted as I remove my gloves before checking the IV drip and adding a new bag of antibiotics.
“Now what do we do?” Frankie questions from the doorway. He and several of the other men had been there since I began the surgery.
Rubbing the middle of my back with my fingers, I look at the antique clock on the wall and note the time.
“Now, we wait.”