Chapter 2 Eian #2
The emergency clinic I had built for the family more than twenty years ago is three blocks off the exit of Holland Tunnel, so it only takes us forty-five minutes to get there.
Rory’s waiting just inside, and as she always does whenever he’s left her sight, she scans Bran from head to toe to make sure he’s in perfect health, then nods to herself and doesn’t even spare me a glance before she’s turning away and down the hallway.
We follow her without saying a word.
She’s always been unstable at best, but the last three weeks . . . she couldn’t even find her happy place while cuddling with Bran.
Not that I blame her, it’s been hard for all of us, but now Duffy’s awake, and he’s surely well enough if her call and current demeanor is anything to go by. I’m pretty sure she’d have started burning the city down one building at a time if Duffy wasn’t perfectly . . . fine.
It’s like my brain sighs in relief when I finally have eyes on him.
Awake, with the bed reclined up, and smiling his crazy smile up at Blake. As one of my most trusted men, he’s like family, like everyone else in the room. He’s a good, loyal man, who has proven ten times over that he’ll follow me to the pits of hell and back even though he’s a bit older than me.
Mac’s sitting in bed with Duffy and has an arm around his shoulders. His own peace of mind is obvious.
The crazy twins are reunited at last.
“Uncle Duffy,” Bran says, and rushes over before stopping abruptly right by the bed. He looks Duffy over just like Rory did to him a minute ago, then carefully leans down to hug him gently. “I’m so happy to see you,” he whispers.
Rory rushes over and throws herself over Bran to hug her brother too.
I let them have that moment—it’s not often that Rory gets to act like this—and I nod for Mac and Blake to follow me outside.
“Tell me everything,” I demand, and they stand straight at my tone.
“I was reading him that comic book he likes,” Mac tells me. “A new one came out yesterday, so I went and got it for him.”
I don’t begrudge him the emotion in his voice. Duffy’s everyone’s favorite person. He’s a little brother to all of us, but his connection to Mac is something else.
“He’s been getting him all the new ones that come out and reading them to him,” Blake adds when Mac has to pause to collect himself, and I appreciate the input.
Mac’s been a mess over Duffy, and I asked Blake to stick to his side instead of mine these weeks so he’d have someone making sure he’s not going crazy—okay, crazier.
“Doc said that he’d probably be able to hear,” Mac grumbles. “And that it’d be good for him.”
“I get it, but what happened?” I’ve been here every day. Not for long because of how much shit I have on my plate, but I’ve been here, hoping that he’ll finally wake up so I can rip him a new one for jumping out a third-floor fucking window.
There was a dead guy in the dumpster where he landed, but we still don’t know what the fuck actually happened inside that apartment.
We only found him quickly ’cause Mac was parked in that damn alley, twenty feet away, waiting for Duffy to finish one of his “errands,” and he saw the two bodies fucking fly out.
“His hand moved,” Mac continues. “I saw his hand move, and then I started asking him to wake up, to say something, anything, or even open his eyes.”
“And he did?”
“No,” Mac snorts. “He told me to fuck off, that he was tired.”
I can’t help but smirk at that. I’ve heard Duffy tell whoever wakes him up to fuck off about a billion times in the thirty years I’ve known him.
“What?” The shout comes from inside the room, and the panic in Duffy’s voice is enough to have the three of us rushing inside. “Three weeks?” His bright green eyes are wild and scared, and that right there, that’s a look I never wanted to see again.
I have to physically shake off the memory of how I found him in that basement.
“What’s going on?” I bark out.
“I told him it’s been three weeks,” Rory tells me without looking away from Duffy’s pale face. His hair flops around when he turns to look from one person to the next uncomfortably fast.
“You hadn’t told him?” I snap at Mac.
“I didn’t know if I should,” he defends himself and rushes to Duffy’s side. “But you’re gonna be fine. Doc said so a little while ago, remember? He came by to see you and said you needed to stay here until your scans are completely clear and that stupid rock you call a brain is all healed up.”
“Yeah, I remember,” Duffy grumbles. “I don’t have fucking amnesia, but shit, I—” He looks right at me, then away, then back, then he winces. “I need a favor.”
A nurse comes in right then and asks to speak to Blake. He leaves and I turn my attention back to Duffy.
“What favor?” I do my best not to snap at him, but dammit, if he needs me to settle one more debt, I’m gonna—nothing. I’ll fucking pay because I always do.
“So, you know how you told me to stop gambling?”
I bite back the groan that wants to come out. I fucking knew it.
“No, no,” he shouts and sits up hurriedly. The wince, well, that he earned, but he interpreted the look I tried to hide correctly. “I stopped, for real, because I found this dude, and after I did some investigating—”
“Stalking,” Mac corrects.
“Whatever.” Duffy doesn’t even pause for a breath. “He’s good, boss, like the best lookout ever and so efficient. So I kinda hired him. And he’s got a little girl to take care of, so I got him to watch our backs.”
“Who is he and why should I care?” I ask, running out of patience.
“His name is Colby, and he’s too nosy for his own good, even though he tries to hide it.
I know he’s been trying to figure out who I am ever since I first hired him.
Please, just make sure he’s okay.” I know that can’t be all of it, so I keep staring into Duffy’s green eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“And yeah, okay,” he relents and tilts his head from side to side.
“Maybe leave a couple of grand in his mailbox or whatever.”
I let the silence linger, then nod once.
“I can do that.” Because it’s not fucking gambling at one of our casinos.
And sometime soon, I’m gonna get the full story of this Colby out of Duffy.
“But you need to relax and rest. I don’t give a shit how twitchy you get in that bed, Duffy, you’re not stepping a foot out of this place until Doc says you’re back to your crazy self, am I clear? ”
That smile I pretend I don’t have a soft spot for makes an appearance as he nods.
“Thanks, boss.”
I have to groan. He knows I don’t like him calling me boss when it’s just family, but the little shit insists on showing me respect or some bullshit like that.
“Yeah, yeah.” I wave him back so he’ll relax against his pillows and Blake comes rushing back into the room right then.
“Boss.” The nerves tightening the sides of his mouth put me on alert once a-fucking-gain.
“What?”
“There’s someone here to talk to you.” He swallows hard and has me narrowing my eyes at him.
Now he’s nervous? What the fuck? Blake doesn’t get fucking nervous, and with the emotional roller coaster I just went on, I’ve had enough for the night. I never seem to catch a break when I’ve had enough, though. That’s not the way of this life.
I look back at Duffy and nod, then step out into the hallway with Blake. I don’t have to tell him to spit it out, thankfully.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on, Boss, but I think you should hear them about before you shoot.”
That’s one way to get on my fucking nerves.
“Who?” I demand.
“The Di Leo bastard and Cecilia Venuti.”
“What the fuck?” I mutter.
I know of them, because I’ve made it my business to rid this city of Italian scum, but I’ve never met them.
Now they’re here?
In the very clinic I had built after the fucking Taccones—their associates—gunned down Da and he died because we couldn’t get him help fast enough?
I reach behind my back to grab my glock and unlock the safety on muscle memory alone.
I don’t give a fuck what Blake thinks I should do, these motherfucking roaches have been killing my family for too long, and today I’m in just the right mood to start the extermination they deserve—the one I’ve been biding my time for.
I look around then rush to the back exit of the clinic where the same nurse who came to get Blake is standing by the door nervously.
“Get back to the desk,” I tell her, not bothering to soften my tone. I’m doing her a fucking favor.
Before I can open the door, I feel movement behind me, someone besides Blake is there. I turn back and see Rory, fire and brimstone in her eyes, so I guess she heard Blake. She hasn’t bothered to take out her gun, but I know she could shoot before me if she felt like it.
I think about telling her to get back with Duffy, but honestly, I wouldn’t mind seeing her scare our guests shitless. That’s always entertaining.
I open the door and find them leaning against the wall of the building next door like they don’t have a care in the world. I raise my arm, aiming my gun at them before I take three steps forward.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you right fucking now.”
“My father is dying.” Cecilia’s words are irritatingly shocking. I mean, old man Marco Venuti is eighty-fucking-eight, so no wonder his time is near. With the life he’s lived, it’s a fucking miracle he made it past forty, but this . . . it changes things.
“Why should I give a fuck?” I ask, doing everything I’ve learned in fifty years on this planet to keep my face expressionless while I analyze every single reason why they would come to me with this news.