Tesoro: Mayhem Makers

Chapter 25

Chapter

Twenty-Five

KATE

Running the tip of my pen on the bottom of Angelo’s foot, I fight hard to keep the smile on my face when he remains silent.

“How about here?” Tapping the pad of his toes.

“No, no pain.”

“That’s great. What about here?” Moving the pen to the heel, I keep my eyes trained on his face as I press the closed pen into the skin.

“Nope, just pressure.”

Replacing the blanket, I palm the pen as I round the front of the bed. I hate this part of medicine, delivering bad news after something so wonderful really sucks.

“When can I get out of this bed, Doc?”

Angelo was much like Dante in his assertive nature. They shared the same deep voice, however Angelo’s has a much sharper edge to it.

“About that…” I trail off, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You are going to need to be in this bed for a little longer.”

“How long?” Angelo demands, the sharpness in his voice making me jump. Angelo squeezes his eyes closed before offering a soft. “Forgive me.”

Reaching over, I lay my hand on his, rubbing small circles of assurance. “I’m not sure.” Clearing my throat, I take a deep breath, selecting my metal checklist of what needed to be told.

“When I was checking your reflexes,” pointing to his feet. “You failed to show responses to any of my tests. My guess is one of the bullets that went through your chest may have done more damage than was initially assessed.”

Angelo’s Adam's Apple bobs as his gaze moves to the ceiling. “Are you saying I’ll never walk again?”

“Not at all. I don’t have any way of assessing or pinpointing the damage. You need further testing I can't provide, to do that.”

Angelo nods as his gaze slowly shifts to mine. “I heard your voice,” his voice cracks with emotion. “At first I thought it was a dream, but when I heard you arguing with a man, I knew it wasn’t.”

Sending him a reassuring smile. “One of my first surgical patients was in a medical coma like you were. One of the nurses told me it was important to talk as if they were listening. I did some research and found it to be true.”

Angelo raises his shaky hand and places it over mine. “You’ve been here a while, correct? Dante said I’ve been asleep for over a week.”

Has it been that long? I wasn't sure what day it was as everything seemed to run together.

“You needed time to heal,” I shrug. “No one can put a time limit on recovery.”

Silence falls between us and I can tell Angelo is searching for the right way to communicate something.

“My brother is a good guy. He’s been handed a shitty hand in life a few times.”

I want to remind Angelo his brother technically kidnapped me, however the soreness at the juncture of my thighs keeps my mouth shut and the smile on my face.

“I’ve heard the conversations between you and my brother and I know you’ve grown close.” Angelo chuckles as he says the latter.

“You try hard to hide the truth, but I can read people better than anyone I know. It’s why Joseph chose me over Dante to lead this family,” his voice grows thick as his emotions rise.

“Dante always put Bellamia on a fucking pedestal. He made excuses for her behavior when she would try to make him feel guilty for doing what he was supposed to. Joseph and I both reminded him time after time, she was a mafia princess in every way, but all he could see was the beautiful girl who paid him a lot of attention.”

I couldn’t imagine an insecure version of Dante. Having only witnessed the intense version of him, I tried to picture the softer side, maybe it died along with his wife.

“My brother will deny this either out of respect for the dead, or some twisted sense of loyalty, but Bellamia pressured him into marrying her. She wanted out of her father’s house so she could come and go as she pleased. The minute she stepped foot in America, that girl was gone more than she was home. He gave her everything and she wanted more. Jewelry she never wore, cars she refused to drive. Hell, he hired a contractor to build a fucking library she saw in a magazine, proceeded to fill it with every book she said she wanted, only to find her fucking the contractor in the bed of his work truck.”

My eyes grew wide in shock, my hand covering my gaping mouth.

“She begged him to bring her sister over, saying it was his fault she cheated given he was always working.” Angelo shook his head, brows furrowing in frustration. “Worst mistake he ever made outside of marrying that cunt.”

Angelo takes several deep breaths as he turns his gaze toward me. “You may not want to admit it, but you look damn close to the way she did.”

Moving to stand, Angelo tightens his hand on my hand. “You’re better than she was, not a selfish bone in your body,” he laughs, his deep eyes searching mine. “Go get some rest, Kate. Dante can look after me for a while.” He pats my hand twice before letting it go.

Remaining silent, I stand from the bed and head out the door. My sleep had been interrupted last night, and I’d remained awake with Angelo all day. Frankie stands outside my door as I make my way down the hall.

“There are clean towels on the foot of your bed and I have roast almost ready in the oven if you're hungry.”

“I’ll get back to you after I shower.” I could feel the exhaustion taking over. “Where is Dante?”

“On the phone with Boston.”

I don’t care for his tone, clearly Boston meant more than their home.

“Don't worry, he’ll be in once he finishes. I’ll have him bring you a plate when he does.”

“Thanks, Frankie.” I smile before closing the door behind me. Snatching a towel from the bed, I make my way into the tiny bathroom, turning on the shower before stripping out of my dirty clothes.

A part of me expected Dante to join me, but as the water began to run cold, I reasoned he must still be on his call. Twisting off the faucet, I wrap the towel around me, grabbing another folded over the bar to dry my hair.

The bedroom was as empty as I left it, exchanging the towel for clean clothes. I sat on the edge of the bed to brush my hair. Movement outside my window grabs my attention. Dante stood in the side yard, phone to his ear and a sharp scowl on his face. Clearly his call wasn’t going well.

The sky was gray with angry looking clouds and I shivered at the chill in the room. Placing my brush on the nightstand, I crawl between the sheets in search of warmth as I wait for Dante.

Pulling the blankets to my chin, I stare at the ceiling. As much as I hate to admit it, especially to myself, I did look almost identical to Bellamia. Was Angelo right when he said she wasn’t a nice person? Clearly Dante loved her, as his grief was real.

As my eyelids grew heavy, my heart ached as a tiny voice of doubt shouted in my head. What if Bellamia was his Tesoro, too? And if so, am I just a way to bring her back?