28. Hold On
CHAPTER 28
HOLD ON
I sabella
Adrenaline rushes my veins as I crawl toward Jeff with Raf draped over me. It makes our movements painfully slow trying to move in unison with the barrage of bullets spraying the air.
“Stay down and stay close,” Raf growls in my ear.
“I am. You’re literally on top of me. How much closer do you want?”
A devious grin twitches at the corner of his lip, but it’s gone before I can fixate on it.
“Just keep moving,” I hiss. I’m cursed. There is no other explanation. How is it possible that I can’t even have one night of fun without all hell breaking loose? And in Rome? Which of my father’s enemies even knows I’m here?
I fix my gaze to Jeff, the pallid green of his complexion and the sweat beading his brow, and my heart wrenches. And now he’s paying the price… I’d been stupid and selfish to think I could come here and there’d be no consequences. As the damned Kings’ mafia princess, I didn’t get to have normal, even across the whole damned Atlantic Ocean.
When we finally reach the table Jeff’s huddled beneath, Raf pushes me under the tablecloth and arranges the two chairs in front of us like a makeshift barricade.
“Bella… what’s happening?” he mutters.
“I don’t know, but you’re going to be okay,” I whisper as I take his hand. “We all are.”
“The bullet penetrated my abdominal cavity,” he rasps out. “If it tore through my stomach, it could create a hole, leading to leakage of stomach acids and partially digested food into the abdominal cavity, which can cause severe inflammation and infection.”
I press my palm to his flushed cheek and do my best impression of a reassuring smile. “Relax, Jeff. Now is not the time to be regurgitating textbook material. I’m going to do my best to stop the bleeding, then they’ll tend to the wound when we get you to the hospital. You’re going to be okay, I promise.” I ignore the tremor in my voice and inhale slow, measured breaths to decrease the manic pace of pulse.
“I don’t know…”
“I do, so just hold on.”
The sharp rip of fabric tearing sends my heart leaping up my throat before Raf hands me a strip of white cloth he’s stolen from the table. He’s already ripping through another one with his teeth. “Wrap this over the bullet wound and around his waist to slow the blood flow.”
“Right.” I should know this, damn it. What kind of an emergency room doctor am I going to be if I get flustered in the chaos?
I draw in a deep breath and focus on all the years of studying, the endless labs and countless tests. I can do this. Assess the situation, stabilize the patient, control the bleeding, prevent infection … My professors’ words echo in my mind.
“You got him?” Raf asks, eyes wild but voice as steady as a surgeon’s hand. Damn it, why can’t I be like him, so cool and collected?
I nod with an assuredness I do not feel.
“Good.” He turns around in the cramped space and points his gun through the hole in the tablecloth. “Now, I’m going to make that fucker pay for daring to hurt what’s mine.” His words are hissed through clenched teeth, so low I’m not certain I hear him right.
A chill skates up my spine at the venom in his tone. I should be insulted that he just referred to me as his possession, but instead, only warmth fills my chest. Turning my attention back to Jeff, I squeeze his hand. “It’s almost over. Raf’s got this.”
Jeff’s head lolls back, lids sliding closed, as he leans against the table leg. I put more pressure on the wound. Blood blossoms over the white fabric, and anxiety eats away at my insides. He can’t die… not another life I’m responsible for. Please, Dio , no.
Above the sound of my racing heart and whispered prayers, sirens begin to wail in the distance, growing louder as they approach.
Another shot rings out, this one closer, so damned close, my heart catapults up my throat. “Got you, bastardo .” Raf twists his head over his shoulder, and those piercing eyes meet mine. “It’s over.”
My throat tightens, emotion clogging the airway, and hot tears prick my eyes. A spiral of emotion tangles in my gut, a thousand words stuck at the tip of my tongue. I want to thank him, I want to leap into his arms and let him devour me until everything else falls away.
Instead, I only nod and mouth a lame, “Thank you.”
I pull the blanket up to my chin and curl into the overstuffed cushions of the sofa as I surf through Netflix’s suggestions, none of which seem even remotely enticing. After a long shower and an hour-long call with Serena that left me blubbering, I planted myself on the couch in my pjs and haven’t moved since. After the adrenaline surge from earlier, I’m exhausted, but I can’t seem to get myself to sleep.
Every time my heavy lids dare close, fear snaps them wide open. I’m vaguely aware of Raf’s presence drifting between the living room and kitchen, but he hasn’t spoken much since our return.
I’m torn between wanting to be alone and craving his company, his comforting warmth and quiet steadfastness. He shuffles across the kitchen, and my lids slide closed. Then the slam of the microwave has my heart vaulting across my chest.
“Geez, Raf,” I growl.
He saunters toward me, wearing only low-slung sweatpants, and carrying a heaping bowl of popcorn in one hand and balancing two mugs in the other. I’m suddenly wide awake again and can’t seem to rip my eyes away from the expanse of perfectly tanned skin of his muscled torso. “Sorry,” he whispers as he drops the items on the coffee table then folds down beside me. “Were you asleep?”
“No, I can’t.” I push myself up to a half sitting position and force my eyes up. “Did you find out anything about the shooter?”
“Not yet. Unfortunately, corpses tell no tales.” He hands me the mug, scooting closer, an uncharacteristically wary look in his eye. “Hot chocolate?”
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Yeah, why not? It always helps me sleep.”
“ You have trouble sleeping?”
“When you’ve seen the things I have, principessa , you learn that nighttime isn’t your friend. In the darkness, the deepest shadows stir, releasing the monsters that lurk within.” He points at his temple, then his chest.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got you to keep the monsters at bay then.” I offer him a rare smile and inch closer. Most of our discussions are so combative I hardly allow myself to relax around him without the snark.
“I’m trying, principessa , but you sure don’t make it easy.”
“What fun would that be?” I angle my body toward his and take a sip from the mug. It’s surprisingly delicious. “With such a talented guard at my beck and call, I figured you’d enjoy a little challenge.”
“I’d enjoy it if my principal didn’t crawl through a tornado of bullets to save some guy she wants in her pants.”
“Ouch,” I mutter. “That’s not why I went?—”
He lifts a hand, an appeasing smile settling over the hard line of his jaw. “I know it’s not, but the fact that you want him doesn’t make it any easier.”
I take another sip, drawing courage from the sweet warmth in the mug. Or maybe I’ve just lost all common sense after being shot at for the umpteenth time in the past few months. Staring death in the face over and over again has a way of messing with your mind. And how much restraint am I really expected to have when this man, who’s built like a Roman god, flaunts his perfect body around the damned apartment every day?
“Maybe it’s because I can’t have the man I really want…” I leave the remainder of the sentence hanging in the charged air between us.
His eyes latch onto mine, a torrent of emotions streaking beneath the impenetrable darkness. A sexy cross between a growl and a groan vibrates his throat, rumbling his powerful chest. He starts to snap that elastic around his wrist like mad before he slowly shakes his head, clucking his tongue. “I—we really shouldn’t—” Still his hand creeps closer beneath the blanket until the back of his hand grazes my thigh, just below the hem of my soft sleep shorts. Rough knuckles skate across my skin, raising a host of goosebumps in their wake.
“No one would have to know,” I breathe and reach under the blanket to position his hand across my upper thigh. His eyes widen, something like fear pulsing through those expressive irises.
That familiar ache blossoms at the mere thought of those fingers slipping beneath my panties. Only this time, I want his fingers inside me, not my own.
“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Even I can hear the lie in my shallow words. I just hope he can’t. As exasperating as Raf can be, there’s no one I’ve ever felt safer with. His possessive streak is borderline psychotic, but sometimes I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to it.
“Ah, principessa ,” he whispers on an exhale, his lips only inches from my own, “how could it not?” And still his hand remains planted where I left it.
I tip my head forward so our lips barely touch. He remains perfectly still, so still I’m not certain he breathes until I sit back, defeated.
Maybe he doesn’t want me… had I imagined it all?
“You know what? After the night we’ve had, fuck it.” He tangles his hand in the hair at the back of my neck and his mouth captures mine with the urgency of a storm breaking, fierce and unrestrained, as if he’s pouring every unsaid word into the kiss.
And all I can do is hold on.