Chapter 31
Gia
The next day, I’m still at my mother’s house, keeping myself busy cleaning all the debris off the dining room floor. I hug my mom and cry into her arms every thirty minutes or so, both from the trauma of being invaded, and for my brother – whose fate is still unknown.
He saved Castor.
The visual plays over and over in my mind, making me weep uncontrollably. The pit in my stomach, the panic, it’s all so vivid I’m constantly reliving the moment. If he really hated him – hated us – he would’ve let Castor die a bloody death. But he didn’t.
Once I’m done crying for the umpteenth time, I huff in front of the bathroom mirror, wipe down my blotchy face and head back into the living area.
Two mafia enforcers are keeping watch inside the house, while contractors rush to extract stray bullets from the ceiling and fill it in with plaster. They blacked out all the windows so they could work in case the police show up because of nosey neighbors.
So far, all has been quiet since.
Does everyone really know not to mess with my brother?
I’m really in awe at how much power those two wield. Their crew came in faster than an ambulance. Murder, clean up, and make everything look like it never happened.
Seeing Randy with his hands on his head near the sink makes me want to give him a big hug. The man didn’t hesitate to use his body as a shield for me and my mom. He may not be a tough guy, but he has plenty of courage.
Guilt plagues me as I inch into the kitchen to console him. “I’m sorry this happened.”
He shakes out of his stupor and extends an arm. “I knew what I was getting into when I met your mother, G. Just hoped it would never come to something like this.”
I fold into his massive embrace. He smells like deodorant and dishwasher soap, and warmth. Teddy bear warmth that I desperately need right now.
“Your brother is involved in some messed up stuff, but he’s got a good heart, I think.” He sniffs. “He’ll pull through, don’t worry.”
My bloodshot eyes barely have anything left at this point, but somehow, Randy drew up the last of a dried well.
Anger flares through me now and again. Is Castor careless about having so many enemies? I don’t know whether it’s his fault, my own, or a combination. Either way, if my brother doesn’t make it… gosh, I can’t think like that.
Biting down on my knuckles does nothing.
Castor ran into Normandy without a second thought, though. He protected my family. I can’t be too mad at him. At least he combats the demons he invites.
Fuck this mafia life.
I pace into my mother’s bedroom to find her sitting on the side of the bed, looking at a photo of Marco and me when we were little. “Momosa, I’m sorry. I feel like I caused this.”
She shakes her head, still gazing blankly at the photo. “You couldn’t possibly. An angel like you was born to weather the storms of your brother. All we can do for him now, is pray.”
I take a seat next to her and rub her back. “Castor promises nothing like this will ever happen again, and that he’s doing everything he can for Marco. No expenses spared.”
Mom nods. “He’s a protector, hun. A good man. Always looked out for your brother.”
I bow my head, thinking back to the story of the Colombians, imagining their comradery. Sometimes I feel like a bitch for getting in between them.
My vision gets blurry from tears again. What else can I do but rest my head on Mom’s shoulder and hope for the best.
Next thing I know, an hour goes by, and I’m face down on Mom’s bed.
Bzzt. Bzzt.
I reach for my phone and pull it up to my face.
Castor: Head outside with Randy and Mrs. C. Sent Ace to pick you up. Good news.
Good news? I spring up, slip on my shoes, and rush to gather them. “I think he’s out of surgery. C’mon!”
Mom and Randy scramble to keep up behind me as I head outside to find Ace waiting there.
“Hey, hun.” He hugs me.
“Do you know anything?” I’m pretty much hyperventilating at this point.
“Just to go get you. We’ll find out together in a few minutes.” He waddles over to the back door and opens it for Mom and Randy. “Hi, Missus C. Hello, sir. Sorry that we’re meeting on such a grim occasion, but hopefully there’s good news at the warehouse.”
We gather in the car, and once we’re all inside, I ask the question, “What the hell was that, exactly?”
He blows up his cheeks uncomfortably. “Hun, I don’t know if we should be talking about that right now. Let the big man fill you in.”
I pinch him.
“Whoa, whoa!”
My eyes say fire. “They shot up my mom’s house, during Sunday dinner for shit’s sake.”
“Mm.” Ace glances at me and groans. “Mph. I know. Makes my blood boil.”
“I heard something about the Rigianos? Yesterday is a blur. Who almost killed my brother, Ace?”
Ace shakes his head. “You got it right, hun. We don’t know for sure if they were lone guns or for hire, but we’re working on it.”
“You better!” I pinch him again, half delirious and half giddy that my brother might be okay.
A short time later, we roll up to a metal-gated garage opening for our admission. We’re surrounded by two other warehouses that I’m assuming Castor owns, since mob dealings are probably done here. Of course Marco wouldn’t be at a normal hospital. I don’t know why I was even imagining it.
Ace is a total gentleman. He rushes out of his side of the SUV to help my mom out, then Randy. Maybe it’s because I’m an emotional wreck right now, but seeing that nearly moves me to tears.
“C’mon, this way.” He guides us to a heavy-looking door that he codes open, and when I step inside, my breath hitches. A beautiful mahogany waiting room is there to greet us – long countertop, felt chairs, magazines, and all. And beyond the double-doors I glimpse a state-of-the-art medical facility.
“I alerted Castor. He’ll be right—oh, there he is.”
When he pushes through the double-doors in his bloodied polo, pulling down a surgical mask, my legs nearly buckle. Seeing him with sunken, black-rimmed eyes makes me realize how much he cares. He hasn’t slept a wink either.
Me, Mom, Randy, and Ace await him eagerly.
He takes a breath. “First off, Marco is going to pull through.”
“Oh thank God.” Mom almost falls forward with a hand on her heart, but Randy catches her.
Happy tears come to claim me now.
“The surgeons were able to remove the bullet, and it didn’t puncture any organs. But, he lost a lot of blood. So we’re going to be keeping him here for a while until he’s stable,” Castor explains.
“That’s such a relief.” I let my head fall onto his chest. It smells of metallic sweat, but it’s good. His big arms wrap around me, ensuring that everything is going to be okay. “Can we see him?”
Castor nods. “Of course.”
I tense up as Castor waves us all through. I’m not sure what the visual is going to do to me in this sorry emotional state, so I brace.
“He’s in recovery. Just not too much noise right now, okay?”
I nod with one shaky hand over my mouth, then wince when I hear a heartrate monitor beeping around the corner. My footsteps slow, so Castor rubs my arm to tell me it’s okay.
“He’s going to be fine. The hard part’s done.” Castor opens the door to a hospital bed with plenty of tubes to make me queasy.
Tears roll when I see him. His normally angry face is peaceful. The oxygen mask fogs up with air, and the IV drip reminds of times visiting my dad. I don’t want to go through this again.
We all crowd around him. I can’t help but grasp his hand in both of mine. I’m hoping for a squeeze back, but I don’t receive so much as a twitch.
He’s breathing, Gia. That’s all that matters.
He’ll be okay.
xxx
It’s been a few hours of everyone chatting around Marco as he lay unconscious. It’s good for him to hear all his friends’ voices, and warms my heart that he has a such a standup crew, loosely speaking.
“Let’s give her some time with him.” Big Ace holds his hat and rubs his warm meaty hand on my shoulder. I hold it in thanks as he pulls away. One-by-one, they leave, and I’m left alone with the man I grew to hate.
He’s peaceful here, like when we were younger. His expression isn’t all twitchy tension and tough-guy attitude. It’s just… him. Marco.
I grab his clammy fingers and stare at his face, watching him breathe into the mask.
“Miss you, big bro.” My lips tighten to distract from the climbing tears. When he doesn’t respond, I break a little, thinking the worst scenarios playing out. I squeeze his hand hard to let him know I’m here, by his side. And I just sit for a minute, until a funny thought hits me right in the middle of my head like he threw it at me.
“Remember when Mom was making baked clams in the oven? You and me put on mitts to steal them when she was in the other room. I couldn’t have been a day over ten.” I laugh to myself. “We ate them and put the shells back like nothing had ever happened. Mom was so confused…” I laugh again. “Until she saw the oil smeared on your lip. God, she flailed with that apron of hers, whipping us on the backside. Hah.”
I adore his features and see the younger him lying there. “Why can’t it be like that again between us?” The tears roll down my face. “Come back to me, Marco. Be part of our family.”
Hope clings to me that he’ll just wake up and give me a big hug.
But he doesn’t.
“Come back, Marco. Castor, your brother, he needs you. I need you… please.”