Scene I
SCENE I
DES
D es kept talking and encouraging Emilia on the way to the hospital, which should have been the father's job. When he was introduced to Emilia, Des immediately noticed that something was wrong and struck up a conversation with her. When Emilia mentioned she hadn't felt the baby move since her last checkup a couple of days ago, Des found that concerning, along with her pale features.
"Des, it hurts," Emilia panted. She gripped his fingers tightly, and he prayed to every god in the universe that she wouldn't break them.
"I know, we're almost to the hospital," he told her. "Breathe for me, okay."
She nodded and let out a slow breath. Des looked at Maria, who had been dabbing the sweat off Emilia's face. Othello was driving with Alessandro, who was a Monday-morning quarterback. Des wanted to ask where Iago was, but his curiosity had to be put on hold for now.
Des focused on Emilia, who needed his help. Rubbing her stomach, he was grateful when they finally pulled up to the hospital. Des didn't wait for it to come to a complete stop. He hopped out, grabbed a wheelchair, and pushed it over as they helped Emilia out of the car. They hurried into the hospital, and Des sighed in relief when a familiar face came over to him.
"Doctor Ellington, are you back?" Chloe asked.
"Not quite. I called and informed the staff I was bringing a patient who was eight and a half months pregnant. Contractions went from thirty to five minutes apart. I was able to slow them down, but I don’t know for how long. Her water hasn't broken..." Chloe followed beside him, getting Emilia to a bed. Des continued rattling off what he'd observed all night.
Des issued some commands when he noticed two other people in the room. Chloe worked quickly, setting up the fetal monitor, and Des went into action. He did his check and was surprised when he saw that they were monochorionic twins sharing the same placenta.
Fuck.
“Emilia, you’re having twins?” he said, looking at her in shock.
“Yes,” she whispered, seeming ashamed, which Des couldn’t understand.
“They’ll be happy when they find out,” he comforted her.
"Okay, Ellington, step back," someone said to him. "You're no longer a doctor here."
Des ignored whoever it was and continued to perform the ultrasound because his gut was telling him something more serious was going on. It didn't take Des long to see the problem. A partial placental abruption. Des wasn't an OB and would rather have a second opinion just to be sure.
"Nurse Chloe, who's the OBGYN on call tonight?"
"That would be Doctor Stephen," she responded.
"Get him down here, now," he growled.
"Des, is everything okay?"
He looked at Emilia and tried to smile. He didn't want to lie to her or scare her. "We need to contact your doctor; by the look of it, you might be spending the night."
"Is it serious?" she asked. "Are the babies alright?"
"The twins are fine, but they are just putting a lot of strain on your body. I’ll make sure things don’t get worse," he reassured her.
"Someone called for an OB?" a handsome doctor Des had never seen before entered the room.
"Yeah, that would be me," Des responded, explaining who he was and Emilia's symptoms.
"Let me take a look," Doctor Stephen said, and Des stepped aside.
Des held Emilia's hand and watched Stephen work. It also didn't take him long for him to confirm Des's diagnosis.
"You're right." He looked at Emilia and explained everything that her placenta was pulling away from her uterine wall, that was putting a strain on not only her but the babies as well. "The good thing is it's minor. Both you and the babies are stable. With Doctor Ellington's quick thinking, he slowed your contractions down. However, I wouldn't advise sending you home. We will need to monitor you for the rest of your pregnancy. The other option is we induce you, and you give birth tonight."
"I'd rather you take the babies out now," Emilia said, not taking the time to think about it. "I'm ready to meet my babies."
Stephen gave her a calm smile that could melt ice. "Very well. Although the abruption is minor, and most doctors would rather go with a vaginal birth, I'd rather err on the side of caution and recommend a Cesarean."
"Okay," Emilia sighed, relaxing for the first time since Des brought her in.
"It will be a couple of hours before we get you into surgery." He glanced at Des. "As the father..."
"I'm not the father," Des said as Emilia spoke. "He's not the father."
"Oh." Stephen chuckled.
"I'm a family friend. The baby's father should be here soon," he said, remembering everyone was outside waiting, probably about to jump out of their skin. “I'll inform the family of what's happening. I'm sure they are anxious.”
Just as he was about to leave, Emilia grabbed his hand. "Can you be in the operating room with me?"
"What about Iago?"
"Right now, he's not my main concern," she snapped.
"I—" He was about to tell her no, but her anxious expression returned, stopping him. "Okay."
"One more thing. Don't tell the family about the twins," she smiled. "Iago and I wanted to surprise them, so each time we gave them a photo of the ultrasound, it was of one baby at a time so they wouldn’t know."
"You got it." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "I'll be right back."
"How are Emilia and the baby?" Maria asked the instant he walked into the waiting room, her anxiety seeping off her in waves.
"They are doing fine. But the doctor is going to induce her, and she'll be giving birth sometime tonight." He explained the complications, which was why the doctor wanted to perform a Cesarean. As he spoke, his eyes searched for Othello and Alessandro, wondering where the two men had gone off to. "Where's Othello and your husband?"
Maria's face changed from worry to anger. "They’re talking with Iago."
Once more, Des wanted to know what the fuck was going on but knew he had to put things aside. "The doctor will be out to speak with you all in a few minutes."
"Tell me something, Mister Ellington," Maria said.
"Des or Desmond, please," he said gently. "People will think you're talking to my father."
"Des," she smiled. "Will Maria and the baby be okay?"
"I won't give you false hope and say everything is certain. Although it was caught in time, factors can still occur."
"Then, can I ask a favor?"
"Sure," he responded before his brain and mouth could communicate with each other.
"Can you be the one to deliver the baby?"
"Uh..."
"I know the doctors here are good, but you saved my son, and now I'm asking you to do the same for my grandchild and his mother. It's selfish of me, I know. Othello said you no longer want to be a surgeon, and here I am asking you to do the one thing you probably didn't want to do. But I trust you, Des, especially with the people that are most dear to me."
"I...uh...I..." Des stuttered.
"Doctor Ellington?" A voice calling his name saved him from answering Maria.
"Yes," he said, excusing himself from Maria's side to join Stephen's side.
"I was wondering if you could assist me with the delivery?"
Des stared at the handsome doctor, and a certain expression in his eyes told Des that the good doctor had been listening to his conversation with Maria.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea," he said. "I haven't held a scalpel in months."
"If it's less than six months, I'm sure you'll do fine. Besides, I think it would put my patient at ease to have someone she knows deliver her baby. Let's leave the hand-holding to the father or another close family member." He winked.
"I guess you're right," Des said, chuckling. Heading back to Maria, he told her he'd do as she asked, which made her happy. He led Maria to Emilia and returned to the waiting room, surprised to find Stephen still there.
"I'll get you some scrubs," Stephen said.
"That would be great, thanks," Des absently responded, looking down the hall, hoping Othello would return. Sighing, he looked away and caught Stephen's eye, noticing that he was staring at him. "Is there something else, Doctor Stephen?"
"You're not at all what I imagined," Stephen told him.
"I'm not sure what you mean." Des furrowed his brows.
"I was told you're cold, rude, but the devilishly handsome part they got right." He smiled. "But you're a damn good doctor. Maybe you should consider coming back. If you haven't noticed, the nurses miss you and some of the doctors as well."
Is this guy flirting with me right now? "I..." He was cut off just as he was about to tell Stephen he was dating someone.
"Don't get me wrong, I'm not coming on to you," he said quickly.
"Okay, so what do you want?" Des folded his arms over his chest, staring the man down.
"I’m just saying that people have you all wrong, and I can't wait to do this delivery with you, Doctor Ellington." He left before Des could say anything.
"What a weird guy," Des mumbled. He was about to go be with Maria and Emilia when Chloe came over and handed him a set of scrubs.
"It's good to have you back with us, Doctor Ellington," she said.
"I'm not really back, but thanks." He smiled. "It's good to see you, too," he said and went to get changed, hoping that by the time he was done, Othello and the rest would be back.
"Are you fucking kidding me, Iago," Othello growled, trying his best not to slap the snot out of his brother.
"I didn't expect her to go into labor," Iago slurred.
Othello pinched the bridge of his nose, so frustrated with his brother. He was trying to figure out why he thought it was a good idea to show up to the hospital drunk, high as a fucking kite, and smelling like cheap perfume from the bitch he was fucking in one of the hotel rooms.
"You didn't expect her to go into labor! She's almost nine months pregnant. Since the day we found out she was pregnant, I told you to stay by her side. I begged you to stop fucking around on Emilia, and on our parents' anniversary, you bring your mistress to the party, and for what? A quick fuck while the woman you claim to love is in pain!"
"Alright, stop lecturing me! We can't all be fucking perfect like you, Othello," he shouted. "I made a mistake, okay, and I promise I’ll make it right."
"That's what you said months ago," Othello snapped.
"Hey, lay off him," Roderigo shouted.
"Why the fuck are you here?" Othello yelled, wanting to punch a hole in the man's face.
"Does it make you jealous that he wants me here, Moor?" Roderigo countered.
"What the fu..."
"Othello, that's enough," Alessandro said, stopping him from saying more. "We need to get some coffee into him and clean him up. I'm sure Emilia is worried about him and doesn't need the added stress right now. I'll go and get him some coffee."
Othello nodded, watching the old man leave, grabbing Roderigo with him before the man could protest.
"She's not, you know," Iago whispered, his head down. "Emilia turned down my proposal.”
“When?” Othello asked.
“The day I took her to buy a ring, she said she didn’t want to marry me,” Iago cried. “She's leaving me."
"Do you blame her?" Othello scolded, recalling Iago's excitement that he would finally propose to Emilia. But that was a long time ago. Had he been holding on to the hurt for so long? "And you had to make it better by inviting your lover."
"I didn't invite her. She just showed up," he explained, looking up at him. "O, I love Emilia, I really do. It's just I can't seem to do right by her. But she’s also changed."
“What do you mean?”
Iago shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. She won’t talk to me or let me touch her.”
"Then maybe you need to let Emilia go or figure your shit out."
"You're right," Iago said after a few moments. "But I can't. She's my heart and the reason for everything I do."
Othello said nothing. Love was a crazy thing, but one thing he was sure of was that if a person really cared about someone, fucking another person wasn't the way to show it.
"He's going to cheat on you," Iago said out of nowhere.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"That doctor. He's good-looking, fuck, bordering on pretty. If I were into guys, I would have..." He paused and cleared his throat when Othello growled, warning him to tread carefully. "Anyway, you need to watch him carefully. I saw the way he and Cassio were eye-fucking each other. It's going to be the Phillip situation all over again."
"Des isn't anything like Phillip. Don't talk about shit you know nothing about," Othello snarled.
"Hey, don't get mad at me. I'm just telling you what I saw tonight."
"Was that before or after you were drunk off your ass?" he snorted.
Iago stood and moved closer to the window. "Fine, don't believe me. I'm just trying to be a good brother and protect your heart. But mark my words, he will fuck around on you. Take it from someone who can spot one of their own."
Othello didn't want to listen to more of Iago's ramblings and was thankful when Alessandro returned with a large coffee for Iago. Not saying a word to his father, he left them alone and went to find Des to get some information.
When he found his lover, he was standing by the nurses' station dressed in scrubs, chatting and smiling with another doctor. Othello stood to the side and watched his lover, who seemed very at ease, as he tried to not let Iago's words affect him. Othello wanted to say he was sure Des would never step out on him, but even he couldn't be certain.
Fuck, what the hell am I thinking? Des wouldn't do that to me. He's nothing like Phillip. Unlike that bastard, Des trusts and cares for me.
Pushing that out of his mind, he walked over to Des.
"How is Emilia?" he asked, getting his lover's attention as he gently slipped an arm around his waist.
"Oh, you're here, finally," Des said, turning in his embrace and ignoring the doctor and nurses he was talking to. "She'll be fine soon. We're about to operate in another hour or so. Doctor Stephen is simply waiting for her to relax."
Othello frowned, not hiding his concern for Des. "You're going into the operating room?"
"Just this once. The women in your family made a request, and I found it hard to reject."
Othello smiled. "You're such a softy."
"Guilty." Des chuckled.
He pinched Des's chin softly, lifting his face to his. "Are you sure about this?"
"Yes, I am. It's just once."
"Okay." He leaned down and kissed Des on the forehead, hugging him flush against him.
This was the difference between Des and Phillip. Des would do things for people out of the kindness of his heart, while Phillip was selfish and required payment at the end.
No wonder I'm falling in love with him.
Des entered the operating room and waited for the nurse to finish gowning and gloving him up. While listening to the nurse’s update, his mind drifted just a little. The last time he had been in the operating room, his patient died, and although he was partially settled with the thought that he had done everything he could, he was still nervous. But he couldn't deny the excited emotion coursing through him like he’d always felt whenever he was in the operating room, which shocked him.
Fuck, are my parents right?
Des didn't get a chance to dwell on that thought since the nurse had finished speaking, and the room grew silent. He noticed everyone, even Emilia, lying on the operating table numb from the waist down, was looking at him.
He locked eyes with Maria, who had taken Iago's place since Emilia was adamant Iago was not allowed anywhere near her or the babies. No one argued or tried to convince her to change her mind and did whatever she requested. But Des knew that Iago was still in the hospital waiting for news about his children.
"Are you alright, Doctor Ellington?" Doctor Stephen asked.
"Yes," he said, clearing his throat. "Let's get started." Moving over to the table, he extended a hand. "Scalpel."
He swallowed, running a finger along the dull edge of the scalpel when handed to him. It felt just as normal as it did when he held a paintbrush. And just as when he made the first brushstroke, Des made his cut and focused on bringing the two healthy babies into the world.
Othello leaned against the door, his hands in his pockets, staring at Des gently rocking one of the twins. It was hours later, and to his surprise, he was an uncle of two boys, Antonio and Tybalt.
"The way you're watching him makes me wonder if you're changing your mind about the whole not-having-a-kid thing," Alessandro said, standing beside him.
"Maybe," Othello said, not refuting his father's words. After Phillip, he had closed off his heart and mind to love and wanting children, but with Des in his life, he was walking back on that feeling.
Des looked good holding the baby, and he could see Des pregnant with his child, who would be born with either of their features. As if hearing his thoughts, Des raised his gaze and smiled as their eyes met.
"He fits in well with our family," Alessandro told Othello. "I liked him from the night I met him." Alessandro squeezed his shoulders. "He's good for you, Othello. Don't let him go."
Alessandro walked over to Des, who handed the baby over to the giddy grandfather and then came over to stand in front of Othello.
"How does it feel to be an uncle?" Des asked.
Othello grabbed the front of Des's scrubs, pulling him flush against his body. "You did good tonight. Are you tired?"
Des turned in his embrace, pressing his head back into Othello's chest. "I'm exhausted, but seeing that makes me happy. Tonight also made me remember why I’m not cut out to be a doctor. It’s a good profession, but not for me."
“I want you to be happy, Tesoro, so I will give you anything you want,” Othello told him.
“Thank you.”
Othello leaned down and kissed behind his ear.
"We've never talked about it, but do you want kids?" Des asked.
Othello looked at Tybalt and Antonio, who were being gushed over by their grandparents. "Maybe one day, but not now."
He might have opened his heart to wanting kids again, but not until he found out who was working against him.
"Okay, let's wait until we're both ready," Des said, then looked up at him. "As wonderful as all of this is, I need you now. Take me home."
Leaning down, he gently kissed him on his lips. "Okay."
Saying nothing to the family, he got Des home in record time, naked and screaming his name before the sun hit the sky.
A few weeks later, Des and Alessandro met with Devin as they toured the auction house, checking the crates and ensuring the weapons would be well hidden and secure when they shipped.
The art auction was a front for the shipping and selling of weapons. The art would be sent to the proper recipient, but someone from the organization would be there to deliver the guns to whoever bought them. At least three crates were going to Japan.
The priceless art and artifacts were obtained legally and would bring in enough funds, but the weapons were already bought and paid for, expanding the family's wealth.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Alessandro asked. "We can come up with a new plan."
"No," Othello said. "We've had this shooting hanging over our heads for long enough. I'm frustrated we still haven't found anything. We need them to make a move."
"Alright," Alessandro sighed. "It's going to be hard pulling Maria away from the twins."
Othello smirked. "She is enamored with them."
"I just wish Iago would get his shit together," Alessandro said heavily.
In the weeks since the babies' birth, Emilia had told the family that she and Iago were over, but she would not stop him from being a part of the twins' lives. Othello couldn't say he blamed Emilia, since she'd put up with his shit for a long time. They were co-parenting, but Othello knew Iago was trying to get Emilia back.
"He will," Othello said, trying to assure his father.
"Take care of him while we're gone."
"Of course."
"Alright, let's get this done. We still need to head to the docks after this to send out the shipment."
They spent the next few hours going through their stock. When they left the auction house to head to the port to check on the freight, the sun had just gone down. Since the workers had already gone home for the day, no one was at the docks but them.
"I want a thorough check," Othello said to Marco and Tallen, along with Vito and Nico, two of his other men who had come with them.
"Yes, boss. " They separated, and Othello scanned the area as a strange feeling crawled up his back.
"What's wrong, Son? You have that look in your eyes."
"Something doesn't feel right." He scanned the dark expanse of the docks. "Get back to the car."
Just as he said the words to Alessandro, the metal clanking of a container echoed throughout the silent docks, followed by the screech of tires. Othello's instinct kicked in.
"Get down," he barked, grabbing Alessandro by the arm and hurrying them both behind a stack of pallets just as a hail of bullets sounded throughout the docks. The gunfire reverberated through the air. Othello could tell his people were returning fire.
“Another fucking ambush,” Othello growled, crouching low. "I'm getting sick and tired of this shit."
"You and me both," Alessandro said.
"Are you carrying?"
"Of course."
"Good. Stay hidden," he ordered, pulling out his handgun, his grip steady. Unfazed by the chaos, Othello thrust himself into the chaos, returning fire at anyone he didn't recognize. This time, the men who attacked them were bold and did not wear masks, but still, Othello couldn't tell who they were or which family they came from.
All he knew was they weren't cops. Ducking behind one of the freight cars, he could feel his adrenaline pumping as the bullets ricocheted off the metal, but he had to take the chance to peek around the corner, hoping to figure out what the fuck was going on.
Several figures moved in the darkness, some hiding behind a few shipping containers. There was a rapid exchange of bullets, and that was when he noticed the scorpion tattoo on the side of one of the men's faces.
The last time he saw that tattoo was a year ago, when he and his people had a run-in with the Russian mafia, but he was certain they’d squashed any beef they might have had, so he pushed that thought away. No, this had to be someone else making it look like the Russians.
"Boss, what the fuck is going on?" Nico, one of his men, asked, moving to stand beside him.
"Your guess is as good as mine," he said.
"Someone must have leaked and told them we would be here?" Nico growled, firing a couple of shots into the darkness, hoping he'd hit his target.
Othello smirked. "It doesn't matter. None of them are leaving here alive." He looked in the direction of where Alessandro was. He was guarding himself well, but Othello didn't feel good about that. They were cornered and out in the open. "Nico, go and cover the don. Don't let anything happen to him."
"You got it." Othello covered Nico as he trudged through the multitude of bullets and ran to Alessandro's side. Raising his gun, Othello moved from out of his hiding spot just as he saw Vito get hit, collapsing, clutching his side. As far as he could tell, that was their first and only casualty.
Watching the scene, that feeling that something wasn't right nagged at him. He counted ten men to his five, himself included, and the odds weren't in their favor, but they weren't aiming for them or specifically him. Othello was sure there were more hidden, waiting for some signal.
The crack of gunfire continued to ring out, and a shout came from where Alessandro was hidden. Othello looked over to his father's side, as if he could see clearly in the dark. His heart stopped in his chest when he saw a figure standing over him and another lying beside him. There was a gun pointed at Alessandro's head.
Without hesitation, Othello raised his gun, finger pressing the trigger, shooting the attacker, dropping him. But Othello didn't let his finger off the gun's pulse until he was beside Alessandro.
"Are you hurt?" he asked worriedly, checking his father over.
"No, Nico blocked me in time," Alessandro said.
"Dammit, Nico," he cursed and checked on the man who had protected his father with his life. He thanked all the gods he was still alive. He was shot in the back, but they needed to get him to the hospital, or he could die.
"These guys aren't professionals," Alessandro said.
"No." He looked at the guy he'd killed. "Maybe he was, but these fuckers don't know who they are messing with."
"Go finish this up," Alessandro said. "I'll stay here with Nico."
"Are you sure?" Othello asked, worried.
"Yeah, we fight for family, just as they will for us, Othello. Remember that." Then he grinned. "Plus, I called for backup."
"You sly, old man," he mumbled.
"Idiots will always underestimate us. I know you're out for blood, but keep at least one alive. That way, we can get some answers."
"I make no fucking promises." No further words needed to be said. Othello reloaded his gun, stood, and aimed it at anyone who moved left or right. He hoped to capture one alive, but when someone aimed a gun at anyone deemed precious, they had to fucking die.
He fired a couple more shots, taking out two men. "The backup needs to get here quickly," he mumbled to himself. As if hearing him, the roar of engines filled the air, and two black SUVs tore onto the pier. Othello smiled as their headlights cut through the night. Before the vehicles stopped, their men spilled out, weapons drawn, turning the tide in the fight.
“Cover me,” Othello shouted to Alessandro, then moved from behind the pallets, with his father giving him cover. Othello sprinted across the dock, moving behind the freight cars. It might have been his imagination or the night’s light playing tricks on him, but he saw something shiny peeking out from one of the containers near the chaos.
Othello reached the side of a container, breathing heavily. He peered around the corner and saw one of the remaining gunmen reloading behind a stack of barrels. Without hesitation, he lined up his shot and pulled the trigger, shooting the gun out of his hand, then ran forward, barreling into him, bringing him down. Othello growled, raining down punch after punch, not letting up.
Blood splattered on his clothes and face, but he paid it no mind. He was too angry to care about his appearance. While using a gun was fine, Othello preferred smashing his opponent's face in. It helped get rid of his anger.
"Othello, stop," Alessandro yelled as the other men pulled him off the guy. "You'll kill him, and we won't get any answers."
Othello didn't struggle, but pulled away from his men and moved over to the guy who was moaning and groaning on the ground, the only sound that echoed on the pier that had been ablaze with gunfire and noise only seconds before. But he didn't pay the man any attention and grabbed him by his shirt collar, pulling him up.
"Who sent you?" he growled in the fucker's face.
The guy gave him a bloody smile, which made Othello want to hit him more, but he held back. Upon closer inspection of the tattoo on his face, Othello could tell that it was fake.
Amateurs, he mentally sneered.
"Do you really think I won't kill you?" he said in a deadly calm voice and slapped the guy in the face. Othello dragged him to where the chaos was, letting him see all of his friends lying dead on the ground. Othello enjoyed seeing the fear in his eyes. "You will tell me who sent you, or I promise you, after the torture I will bring you, you will wish for death." He remained silent, and Othello's patience was ready to pop until Vito spoke up.
"Boss, I recognize this guy," he said, pointing to one of the dead men.
"Yeah, who is he?" Othello asked.
"He's part of Falcon's gang. He was with me and the others outside, watching the door the night you got shot," Vito explained.
Othello looked at Alessandro. "It seems I pegged him wrong. Well, I won't be making that mistake again." Pulling out his gun, he pointed it to the man's head. Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he heard a jingly ringtone. Othello tilted his head, and Tallen ran over, searching through the guy's jacket, then pulled out his cellphone. "Say the wrong thing, and I will kill you on the spot."
Tallen swiped the screen, answering the call. "Sorento, what took you so long to fucking answer?" Falcon's sarcastic tone said on the other side of the line.
"I—I had to make sure they were dead," Sorento responded.
"Is Moor dead? Did you make sure?" Falcon asked.
Sorento looked at Othello, who quirked a brow. "Yeah, I killed him myself."
Falcon laughed. "You did good, Sorento. It's a shame. I really liked Moor, but he's not one of us. Plus, he was too fucking cocky for his own good." Falcon sighed. "Make sure our guys clean up the mess. We don't want evidence coming back to us. Bring Moor's body to me. I'm at the main house." Falcon hung up, not leaving room for further discussion.
Othello looked at Sorento. "Your boss really is an idiot," he said, then pulled the trigger, taking the man out and letting his body drop to the ground.
He looked at Alessandro. "I'm dealing with this tonight. Do you have any objections?"
"None, but you realize he's not working alone," his father said. "You're the boss now."
Othello nodded. "Don't worry, I won't kill him yet. I get the feeling he won't talk so easily."
Scanning the pier, Othello noticed most of their cars were gone and suspected they had taken the injured to get patched up. Their cleaning crew was already fast at work. While he was on the phone, they already had the bodies squared away, ready to be taken to Falcon.
They couldn't hide the bullet holes in the containers, but getting rid of the pallets was easy—just dumping them in the water. Some of his crew were hit, but not to the point of death; however, he needed to be sure.
"How many of our guys were hit?" he asked.
"Two," Vito answered. “Marco took Nico to get treated since he was the worst one. Too bad the doctor isn't at the hospital anymore; he could have patched him up."
At Des's mention, Othello figured he wouldn't see his lover tonight. He couldn't let the Falcon situation sit for too long. It also meant that he could get answers about what was happening. He'd underestimated Falcon, but Falcon also didn't know him well enough.
"Get our people to do a better job with cleanup. We don't want to leave any evidence we were here."
"Yes, boss," Vito said.
"Tallen, call up the crew and tell them to prepare for a hunt." Othello grinned, licking his teeth, feeling like a feral beast. He might not end up having a romantic night with Des, but once he got his answers, he'd be so fucking horny he would be sure to fuck him so good that his little doctor wouldn't be able to get out of bed for a week.