9. Carmela
Carmela
I hate the smell of hospitals.
The antiseptic smell that permeates the halls no matter where you are in the building. The desperate stench of family members who haven’t showered while they wait for news of their loved ones. Thick, cloying, overly fragrant scents waft off the nurses at the end of their shifts that should have been over hours ago—anything to ward off the smell of perspiration and cloud how tired they are.
It all balls together and slam dunks anxiety through me as I get my visitor badge and make my way up to Ginny’s private birthing room at Lennox Hill—where literally none of those scents linger, and the smell of baby overtakes my senses when I arrive at the maternity ward.
Knocking lightly on the door to signal my arrival, I walk in to see Jackson with a giant smile on his face as he cradles his new baby boy, wrapped in a powder blue blanket. Ginny is absolutely glowing as she turns her attention to me. “Hey! Thanks for stopping by.”
“Of course. How are you feeling?” I set the flower arrangement I brought on one of the small side tables near the entrance, noting the absence of flowers and gifts from the significant-sized room.
“Happy. Seriously, I’m lucky. He might have taken his sweet time coming, but he was quick about it where it matters at least,” Ginny says with a laugh as she raises her bed to more of a sitting position.
“Already a momma’s boy,” Jackson coos as he walks closer to show off their son. “Do you wanna hold him?”
His question takes me aback. Jackson and I aren’t exactly close, and I’m not as close with Ginny as Lenni is. But as I look between them, she nods and motions for me to take him. “Jackson literally hasn’t put him down except when he has to hand him over for feeding time. You’d think the person who grew the little guy for nine months would be more deserving of baby time.” She laughs as Jackson gives her a pointed look while he sets the sleeping bundle in my arms.
“I just want you to rest, Red. Plus, you’ll get Benjamin all to yourself while I’m in Chicago,” Jackson says grimly.
Pulling my attention from the baby, I raise an eyebrow and ask, “Chicago? What are you going to Chicago for? Your wife just gave birth, and you’re leaving ?”
Benjamin makes a sighing sound accompanied by a little hiccup as he starts to move, signaling he’s awake. I coo at him while he yawns and opens his bright blue eyes to settle on me. He’s the spitting image of Jackson as he fixes me with a stern look, though I know he can’t actually see me clearly yet, scrunching his non-existent brows like ‘ who the hell are you? ’
“I’m leaving next week, just for a few days. We’re in talks with a private equity firm there to join up to purchase a large retailer. One of the managing partners is also pregnant. She’s beginning her last trimester and was advised not to fly, which is why I’m going there. There’s another conglomerate looking to purchase as well, so instead of waiting, we’re going ahead with the meeting,” Jackson explains.
“She’s having a girl. Maybe one day, the kids will meet, and we’ll have another type of merger,” Ginny jokes.
“Stop trying to marry off our son. He’s barely a day old. He needs to play the field before he settles down,” Jackson bites back playfully.
“No, you’re not gonna be a player like your daddy was, are you, sweet boy?” I singsong to him while his parents start bantering back and forth .
Benjamin is quiet, still staring at me curiously as he jerks his hands around. For a new baby, he seems very alert. The tiny patch of hair near his forehead is a light blond instead of the red we all thought he’d pop out with. It will be interesting to see if it turns out more like Ginny’s as he ages.
I lift my arms to smell his head. That faint, freshly cleaned, powdery, slightly milky scent that most babies seem to have fills my senses—the only acceptable hospital scent, in my opinion.
“Are you smelling my baby?” Jackson asks, hands on his hips as he looks at me oddly.
Ginny laughs, and we share a knowing look. “It must be a female thing,” she says. “Babies smell awesome, Jackson.”
“Whatever you say, Red. I’m not going to sniff our baby.” His attention redirects to me. “How is everything going? Have there been any more letters?”
Shaking my head, I give Benjamin to Ginny as he starts to fuss. “No. No letters, no murders. It’s been one week of tense silence.”
One week where Anders and I have coexisted awkwardly at the shows we’re putting on every other night. There hasn’t been another night where we’ve pretended to perform since the night he got me off on his fingers a mere hour after what happened in my office between us. Since then, we’ve shared heated glances across the room while he watches for any sign of the killer, and I walk around the shows to make sure things are running smoothly and everyone has what they need.
Something about him awakens a feeling I thought was long gone—a playfulness I don’t have to force. A natural, easy attraction that I haven’t felt toward anyone since Mick and I first met. Along with that, however, comes the need to defend myself at every turn from his judgmental sneers and backhanded comments about my job or my relationships.
I can’t figure him out. And I honestly don’t know that I want to. When this is all over, he’ll return to California, and we’ll never see each other again. But I can’t deny that there are times when I wonder what it would look like if he weren’t the detective hired to protect me and catch the killer. Wonder if anything more could have developed from that fateful night when we first met—where our instant attraction to each other was enough to fall into the arms of a stranger.
“How are things going with the detective?” It sounds like a normal question, but Jackson’s voice has an underlying tone that tells me he’s not asking about how Anders is handling the case.
“Fine,” I answer in a clipped tone. I don’t offer more than that. It’s embarrassing enough as it is. Thankfully, neither Jackson nor Mick have appeared at any of these shows. Only Luca, Martin, and Nikolai have had to put up with how Anders and I speak to each other, and then got a front-row seat to me riding his fingers vigorously enough to figure out it was anything but fake.
Luca is barely speaking to me, acting like a scorned lover any time he’s in the same room as Anders and me. Martin and Nikolai—to their credit—haven’t treated me any differently, and I appreciate that they seem to be the most professional out of all the people working to catch this guy.
“Lenni said the detective is hot,” Ginny prods with a laugh and a smile.
Jackson’s head whips toward her as he frowns. “I’m sure Tripp will love to hear Lenni is checking out other guys.”
“Oh, relax , Jackson. You and Tripp are ridiculous sometimes, I swear,” I say to him before turning my attention to Ginny and winking. “He is pretty hot.”
“Spare me the details.” He walks toward Ginny’s bed, motioning for her to give him the baby. “Give me back my son.”
She fixes him with a stern look. “Jackson, you better drop those hands and go sit down. Benjamin isn’t done eating, and your grabby ass is starting to get on my nerves. Don’t make me have the nurses ask you to leave for a few hours.”
I try to stifle the laugh that erupts from my throat as Jackson backs off and sits on the couch in the room as he mumbles, “I liked it better when you were horny all the time and begging to sit on my–”
“And I think that’s my cue to leave,” I interrupt him. “I’m glad everything went smoothly, Ginny. Let me know when you’re back home.”
“We will. Thank you for stopping by. Good luck with everything. Stay safe, okay?” she replies. A stray hair falls out of her messy bun while she stares down at Benjamin, and I look over to see Jackson watching her reverently.
With a smile, I turn to leave. “I will. Good luck in Chicago, Jackson.”
He ignores me. Instead, as I cross the threshold, I hear him tell Ginny, “Sass me all you want while you still can, Red. Once you’re all healed, don’t think I won’t put you over my knee and spank the shit out of you for your mouth.”
I grab the handle and close the door so they can have their privacy as she replies, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Daddy .”
I’m almost back. Traffic is terrible.
I send a message to Martin and Nikolai in our group chat. Currently, they are waiting at my apartment to escort me to the club. Usually, I’d go by myself, but ever since that man tried to approach us at Désirer, Anders has been adamant about someone being with me at all times. It was a miracle I convinced them to let me go to the hospital, then straight to Decadence on my own. I think the fact I’d be going straight from the car to the building and back again was what sold the silent assassins , but I wonder if they still trailed me today.
Looking up from my phone, I see that my cab driver has just taken the wrong turn. “It’s one more down,” I tell him with a sigh. You shouldn’t be driving a cab in the city if you don’t know your way around , I internally lament. If I weren’t already running late, I would have just waited for my town car, but somehow, my driver got the times mixed up and was too far away for me to make it in time.
“Sorry, miss. There’s construction on the next road,” the driver responds with a thick, gritty cadence that sounds like he’s been chain-smoking for years.
Frowning, I shake my head. “No, there’s no construction on my road. And now we’re gridlocked in traffic.”
He doesn’t respond, and I sigh again. Out the window I can see we’re nearly in front of an alleyway that connects this road to mine. I don’t have time to wait for us to get around the block. Opening my purse, I pull out a fifty and hand it to him over his shoulder. “I’ll walk from here. Thanks. Keep the change.”
I get out of the cab and walk swiftly to the alleyway, looking down at my phone as I send another message to the guys.
I’m taking the alley between the roads. The cab took the wrong turn.
It feels like I’m a teenager again, letting Mami know exactly where I’m going so she can keep tabs on me. It’s sort of nostalgic, but the feeling only fills me for a moment before a sense of dread creeps along my bones.
The sound of footsteps behind me echoes throughout the damp, dark pathway. Usually, I wouldn’t think anything of it. But since there’s someone out there who keeps threatening my life, I realize this probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
Picking up my pace, I raise my phone to call Martin and Nikolai when a text from them comes through.
Do NOT walk the alleyway alone. Wait for us. We’ll come get you.
Too late.
I silently curse the delayed text messages, knowing it’s too late to wait now. Peeking behind me, I see a large figure shrouded in the shadows. Their clothes are dark, making it easier for them to blend into the darkness of the alley, and with the hood pulled over their head, it's hard to make out any distinguishing features.
My Jimmy Choos pinch my feet as I break out in a jog, not caring about the dirty water that splashes up on my light pink suit. I’m almost halfway through the alley as I pick up my pace, focusing on the people walking along the street ahead.
Whoever is behind me breaks into a run, their footsteps pounding through the puddles as they race to catch up. I try to scream for help, but my voice is paralyzed with fear. Adrenaline pumps through my veins, acidic as it burns its way through my system, ordering my body to keep going—keeping one foot in front of the other and my reflexes alert, so I don’t trip in my heels.
Just as I think I’m about to get away, I feel a fist wrap in my hair and drag me down. I struggle against the hands that pin me to the ground, and a heavy weight settles on my legs like someone is sitting on them.
“Let me go!” I finally manage to scream. It’s weak, and I doubt anyone from the street can hear.
The person chuckles. It’s a weird sound. And when they speak, it’s distorted, as though they are using some type of voice changer. “You can struggle all you want, Carmela. You’ll never get away.”
Their words don’t stop me from trying. I writhe beneath their weight, bucking my hips to try and throw them off me. Finally, my voice grows stronger and I scream as loud as I can, hoping to alert anyone passing by. It’s cut short by a fist knocking into my left cheek so hard it snaps my head to the side—the gritty gravel kissing the right side of my face as it meets the wet pavement.
“Shut your fucking mouth, you whore!” They grab my jaw, pinching the sides of my face together painfully as they force me to look up at them. My vision is fuzzy from the force of their hit, but I can make out the ski mask the person is wearing beneath the hood. The only thing visible is a pair of unfamiliar dark brown eyes.
“Leave the city! If you don’t, there will be consequences, do you hear me?” Their words register, but my only thought is getting away, so I scream again, earning me another smack to my face. I’m positive I’m going to leave this alleyway with a nasty black eye, but if all I get from this encounter is a bruise and a vague warning, I’ll take it.
My face throbs. The weight of the person lifts off me as they repeat themselves. “If you don’t leave the city, the consequences will be a lot more severe than this. You ain’t seen nothing yet, sweetheart.”
A sharp, stinging pain takes my breath away as my assailant kicks me in the stomach. Not once or twice, but three times before I hear the angry shouts of Martin and Nikolai, followed by the pounding of their approaching footsteps.
“Next time, it will be worse,” the distorted voice warns before retreating hastily.
I want to throw up as I curl into the fetal position to try and dull the pain. I’m positive I heard one of my ribs crack during the attack. The pain is severe as I try to breathe, only managing shallow intakes of air.
A pair of footsteps rushes past me as one of the guys goes after my attacker, and one stops next to me. Nikolai’s voice is soothing as his warm hands attempt to roll me onto my back. “You’re okay. We got you. You’re okay.”
My head rolls back as he lifts me in his arms. Balancing my weight on his knee, he gently maneuvers my head so it’s resting on his chest before he stands. Both sides of my face feel swollen, but it’s still nothing compared to the pain in my lower chest and stomach.
“Call Brooks. Have him meet us at the nearest hospital,” Nikolai instructs, and I can only assume Martin has come back.
“Hey there, stay awake for me, okay?” There’s mumbling, and then we’re moving. I fight to stay conscious, but the pain is too much. I’ve always prided myself on having a high pain tolerance, so I feel like a wimp right now, but holy shit those few hits and kicks really took me out .
“...New York-Presbyterian.” Someone’s voice is muffled, sounding further away with every word.
“Carmela. Carmela, stay awake.”
Sleep sounds better and better, though. I don’t want to stay awake. Cuddling further into Nikolai’s chest, I close my eyes.
A few moments of rest won’t hurt.