Chapter 22 Kane
Kane
Chiara sits next to Luka’s bed, clutching his hand. She’s not left her chair since the doctors moved him from the ER into this room.
It was touch and go for a while. Luckily we found him just in time. Another thirty minutes longer and his organs would have shut down.
The doc says it’s an opioid overdose. Not completely out of the blue given his history, but for him to take that step now? That’s the part I don’t understand.
He’s been much happier lately. The idiot is madly in love with Chiara, even if Angelo refuses to see it. So why would he throw all that away?
“Was there a note?” Angelo’s low voice knocks me out of my thoughts. He looks like shit, with his hair all over the place and his jacket missing. When I called, he was talking to a potential investor in his next casino hotel venture.
I wasn’t sure he’d come to the hospital, but he’s here. Fina wanted to come too, but we told her to wait until Luka wakes. Assuming he does. Right now he’s in a coma, and the doctor says she’s not sure how long that will last.
“Not in the room, no, but he left one on his phone.” I show Angelo the screen, and he frowns as he reads what Luka wrote in his notes app. It’s a mish-mash of how he can’t cope with fame, his life is pointless, and he feels rejected by his father, blah blah blah.
Nothing new there, aside from the fame bit. I always thought he enjoyed the validation he got from women throwing themselves at him, but who knows? I’m not exactly a therapist.
We’re all familiar with Luka’s daddy issues. That’s why he ended up in rehab two years ago. After Lorenzo treated him so badly when he first reached out to his father and half siblings, the stupid fuck went off the rails big time.
Eventually, Fina intervened and forced him into rehab. Since then, he’s been clean aside from some pot here and there.
It’s one of many legitimate reasons why I fucking hate Angelo’s father. The man’s a cold-hearted psychopath.
“Selfish little bastard,” Angelo seethes as he thrusts Luka’s phone back at me. “How fucking dare he hurt her like this?”
My mouth gapes in surprise. “I thought you hated that he’s with her?”
He has the grace to look momentarily ashamed before his usual mulish expression returns.
“I do, and now you know why we should have nipped this in the bud. The minute he’s well enough to leave here, I’m sending him back to rehab, in an involuntary hold if necessary. Chiara’s got enough to deal with.”
“How selfless of you.” His eyes narrow at my sarcastic riposte. “Are you planning to get rid of me too?”
His glare suggests it’s an option, but we both know he won’t touch me. As much as he hates the fact Chiara wants me, he needs me. I’m one of the few people he trusts with her safety.
Before I can say another word, Chiara lifts her head and turns to glare at both of us.
“If you have nothing positive to add, kindly fuck off. Luka doesn’t need your negativity.”
Angelo goes to her. “I’ll make sure he gets the help he needs,” he tells her in a soft voice.
“The only thing you need to fucking do is work out who did this to him,” she bites back. “He did not do this to himself.”
“Princess, he’s done this before, so it’s—”
“Show me the note you found,” she demands, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “I want to read it.”
“I’m not sure—” I start before she fixes me with a glare so venomous I regret opening my mouth.
“Show me right the fuck now or I’ll kick you in the balls so hard you’ll need surgery to fix them.”
Angelo’s jaw tightens as I hand her Luka’s phone with the notes app open. She scans the brief note and gives me a grim smile.
“As I suspected, he didn’t write this crock of shit.”
“And how do you know?” I ask curiously. I’ve known Luka far longer than her, and I have no clue what his writing style looks like. It’s not like he sends us emails or letters.
“Because he’s fucking dyslexic, you morons! He struggles to write proper sentences!” She stabs her finger on the screen. “There are no misspellings in this note. It’s grammatically perfect. Not what a dyslexic guy would write, you dumbasses.”
Angelo and I both stare at each other in shock.
How did we not know this? Then it slams into me with the power of a semi-truck—neither of us has made any real effort to get to know Luka beyond the superficial shit.
Fina has more of a relationship with him, but she’s never mentioned his dyslexia, so I’m not sure she’s aware.
“Fuck,” Angelo mutters while throwing me some side-eye.
“Yeah, fuck. Now pull your heads out of your asses and find out who’s behind this,” Chiara snarls.
“You have my word, princess.” Angelo strokes her cheek before she slaps his hand away. He grinds his teeth but doesn’t lash out like he normally would. Instead, he stalks back out into the corridor.
With one last guilty glance in her direction, I traipse after him, letting the door swing shut behind me.
“How did we not know this?” He throws his hands in the air, utterly blindsided.
While I resolve to bring in more men to supplement the two armed guards I posted a few feet away, he shakes his head. If someone has done this deliberately, they might try to finish the job once they find out he’s still alive.
“Check the security cameras around the motel and see where Luka was prior to that. I want answers, Kane.”
“I’ll get on it now. Does Lorenzo know?”
“No, and let’s keep it that way for now.”
“Agreed.” It’s better for all of us if he doesn’t get involved.
“I’ll stay here with my wife.”
I ignore the way he calls Chiara his wife. The bastard loves to rub my nose in it, but the joke’s on him: their being married doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.
“Good idea. I’m worried that whoever targeted her before will try again. We need to increase Fina’s protection detail too. Matteo would take a bullet for her, but given the current circumstances, she needs at least two round-the-clock guards.”
Angelo hums in agreement. “Get it done.”
Looks like I’ll be busy for the next few hours. Just as well I don’t need much sleep.
“Keep me informed, Kane. When we find the culprit, I will deal with the bastard.”