Chapter Thirty-Nico
CHAPTER THIRTY-NICO
M y cell phone buzzes, but I’m looking across at the boss from one of the oldest Boston crime families, Liam O’Doyle, and I can’t afford to fucking blink.
His wrinkled face resembles a fucking Shar-pei, and I immediately clench my jaw, so I don’t laugh at the image floating around my brain.
This sonovabitch is behind Sanchez’s sudden power grab, and I know it. I just need him to admit it.
Stupid prick has a daughter he’s been dangling in my face. Fucker thinks I’m interested, and I’m inclined to let him think whatever he wants. As long as I get what I want and that’s info on where Sanchez is hiding out.
The prick vacated his known residences and haunts. My guys have been searching for days.
If O’Doyle is hiding him, I need to know. And if that means lying to the old piece of shit, I can do that with no problem.
Margaret O’Doyle is twenty-two and vapid as fuck. She’s years too young for me, or any man, really. Hell, she doesn’t know her own mind and all her purring and bedroom eyes mean jack shit to me.
But I sit. And I pretend. I fucking lie because I have responsibilities and obligations. People I need to keep safe.
My wife is sitting home swollen with our baby, and I have to play up to this prick and it is making me furious.
But Angel and Luc just confirmed what I already suspected. Anna’s brother. That fucking prick baker. The arson at her old place. My warehouse explosion. All of it leads back to Sanchez. And Sanchez has already proven he will kill people.
“So, you see, Mr. Fury. I can’t help you, not unless perhaps a merger can be made,” O’Doyle says, gesturing to his daughter.
She’s sitting beside him, wearing a bright green spandex dress and looking like she belongs in a St. Patty’s Day parade or something .
Inwardly, I cringe. Outwardly, I show no emotion.
But I need to end Sanchez. To eliminate the threat against me and my wife and unborn son. And I need to do it sooner rather than later.
But this old Irish mafia douchebag is protecting him. Suddenly I am not feeling so patient. My phone buzzes again.
I glance down and see twenty messages in the last five minutes. The last one is from the guard I left in charge of Anna’s security team.
“Fury, are you hearing me? Maybe this isn’t a good time. Maybe your mind is elsewhere,” he says, but I am already on my feet.
I ignore him and I reread the text without understanding.
Something happened. Something went wrong. I don’t know what, and I can’t fucking breathe.
Thunder is roaring in my ears as I race down the hall to find Angel and Luc.
“What?” my cousin says.
I toss the phone at him and jump into the SUV. Angel and Luc get in after me as I order Tommy to drive to the private airport.
My world is crashing down around me. If anything happens to Anna or the baby—no, I can’t allow myself to spiral down that motherfucker of a rabbit hole.
It’s like fate is laughing at me. I finally have the one thing I wanted, a real home, and I might lose her while wasting my fucking time here.
I am so mad. I am so goddamn mad. But I can’t focus on that.
My Anna is in an ambulance. She’s probably scared. Probably hurting. And I’m in this shithole of a town talking to some washed up mafia chump while he dicks around with me.
Motherfucker.
“Sever ties with the O’Doyle’s,” I bark out the order.
“What?” Angel asks.
“I want you to cut them off from every fucking port we own, every connection we have. He’s hiding Sanchez, and that makes him my enemy, too. Do it now,” I command.
“Yes, Boss,” Luc says.
My Council grabs his phone to get things rolling on his end. I see Angel do the same and I should feel some sort of mollification, but I don’t.
Fuck this.
I close my eyes and force my boiling rage to a low simmer. My wife needs me and I have to get to the Jersey City Medical Center as fast as possible.
“Tell Gio to get the plane fired up,” Angel says into his cell phone.
Good thing he remembers to call ahead.
I can’t even think, let alone speak. But ten minutes later we board the plane at the same time Anna arrives in the Emergency Room.
I’m so fucking mad. And I’m afraid. Really afraid.
I haven’t felt that kind of fear in a very long time.
What if something happens to Anna or the baby?
What if she blames me?
What if she leaves me?
Panic has me struggling for breath, and I ignore the stares of my men. They don’t know. They don’t fucking understand.
Anna is my life. I can’t lose her. I won’t. I fucking refuse.
The plane ride is too long, and I don’t bother with the car. From the airport where we land, I take a helicopter right to the hospital.
By the time I arrive, I am sweating through my shirt. I ditched my suit jacket somewhere, I don’t fucking know or care.
My sweet Anna is lying in a hospital bed, and she looks pale and weak. Giselle and Maria are both there, and I am grateful to them, but I don’t want them there. I want them gone.
I glare at them and stride for my wife.
“Anna,” I say, and she opens her eyes.
I expect her usual bright whiskey brown gaze with flecks of gold glittering in the warm depths, but her eyes aren’t shining today.
They look dull and lifeless. The whites of her eyes are red from crying.
“Nico,” she murmurs like she can’t believe I am there and tries to sit up.
“Rosebud,” I murmur and wrap her up in my arms, holding her tight to me.
“It’s okay, Baby. I’m here. Hush,” I say, kissing her head while she cries against my chest.
I know the baby is alright. I read the medical report while I was in the air. It was just some spotting and Braxton-Hicks contractions. They want to keep her overnight to monitor them both.
When I was on my way to the hospital, I called and had her moved into a private room but allowed her friends to visit until I could get there.
But now I am here.
And I want everyone else out.
Angel and Luc know me. They know my nature, and I’m sure they can see how fucking close I am to losing it. It’s happened, albeit infrequently.
But no, I would never be violent towards a woman or women. I just need Anna to myself. I have to make sure she’s okay, see it with my own eyes.
I see them take the two women outside. Anna is too distraught to notice, and that’s okay.
My job is to calm her down. To be there for her. And I failed. But I won’t. not anymore.
She says something, and I can’t understand her. The antiseptic smell inside the stark white hospital is dizzying. I hate it. So, I bury my nose in her hair, and I breathe my wife in.
“What is it, Rosebud? I can’t hear you when you talk into my shirt.”
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nico, I panicked, and they called you and I didn’t mean to make such a big deal about this,” she says, and I am stunned.
“What are you talking about, Baby?”
My chest is tight. Is she really apologizing to me?
Of all the reactions I expected from Anna, having her sob into my shirt saying sorry for interrupting my business wasn’t even in the top ten.
I hold her closer, kissing her teary cheeks.
“I know you’re busy and you were on an important trip, and I shouldn’t have let them call you,” she says and I can’t take it.
“Hey, hey, no. Hush, Rosebud. Hush now. I’m the one who’s sorry. You needed me and I wasn’t here. I’m so fucking sorry, Baby,” I tell her and rock her gently in my arms.
I thought I was going to have to fight to keep her here. That I was going to have to beg and plead, and don’t get me wrong, I would have.
I will.
But my beautiful Anna isn’t talking about leaving me. She’s clinging to me, and I feel about ten feet tall.
This woman. This good, beautiful woman.
I don’t know what I did in this life to deserve her. Truth is, I don’t.
God knows, I don’t.
But I’m not letting her get away from me. Not now, not ever.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you got scared. But I will be. From now on, I will be,” I tell her, and I mean every word.
My anger at Sanchez and O’Doyle triples as I hold my wife’s hand throughout the checkout process. The doctor says we can leave, and I am more than ready. I want her home.
Safe and sound. Where I can protect her .
“Ready?” I ask, and Anna nods.
She looks tired, but content. And always so pretty. To me, she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
I don’t wait for the wheelchair, I just scoop her up in my arms. Anna lets out a weak protest.
But she’s starting to know me by now, and instead of repeating her objections, she just wraps her arms around my neck and lays her head on my shoulder.
Leaning on me .
Trusting me .
And it is everything.