29. Lorenzo
CHAPTER 29
Lorenzo
I swallowed back the reprimand that had jumped to the front of my mouth as Isabella helped Damian to strip off his shirt. His shoulder was a mess. Color drained from her face. “Were you shot?”
Damian shook his head, wincing as the wound pulled tight. “ Figlio di puttana had a knife.”
She didn’t relax, per se, but she looked more confident than she did when she first saw the wound. “At least I’m not digging out a bullet,” she murmured, more to herself than anyone else.
“Can you close him up?” I asked her.
She looked at me and nodded. “It’s not going to be pretty, and I don’t have anything for the pain, but I can do it.”
I cleared my desk so that Damian could sit and she had room to move around. “I need better light,” she said. “Do you have a flashlight?”
“Will the one on my phone work?” I turned on the light and held up my phone, and she hummed.
Elio came back with the first aid kit. It was brand new and top of the line; Isabella almost smiled when she saw it. “Amalia said that she can help if you need it.”
The look that she gave him was a touch unfriendly. “Does she have any medical training?” Isabella asked.
He shook his head. “No, but she won’t throw up either.”
“I can handle it.” Her eyes met mine. “Just hand me things when I ask for it? I don’t want to go back and forth between him and digging through the box; he’ll end up with some kind of infection.” To Elio, she said, “Hold the light for me.”
When we were in place, and she had put on some of the gloves that she’d found in the box, Isabella had me hand her some peroxide so that she could clean the wound. “This is going to hurt,” she said to Damian. Her voice was softer now; it resembled that friendly, professional tone that I’d heard at the urgi-care.
“Talk us through what happened,” Elio suggested. “It’ll keep you focused.”
Isabella gave Damian a moment to gather his thoughts. “Everything was fine at first,” he said, and he hissed when she began to clean his shoulder.
“Fuck,” she muttered as she got a better look at the damage. “It’s deep.”
“What does that mean?” I asked. I’d had my share of injuries. I had been shot before and been stitched up too many times to count.
“I need to widen the wound a little and stitch it more than just on the surface. If I leave it the way it is, there’s a good chance he’d end up with an abscess.”
“Can you do that?”
She looked at Damian’s shoulder, and that fear was back. “I’m not a surgeon,” she said finally. “If I fuck this up, he could lose the use of his shoulder. His range of motion could be screwed.”
“We can’t go to a hospital,” Damian said then grunted. “They’ll call the police.”
“I could call someone,” I said. “But it’s going to take time.”
Isabella looked back at his shoulder. The view that she’d given herself was gone again because of the amount of blood coming from the wound. “I could pack the wound,” she mused. “But if he keeps bleeding, he’s going to need a transfusion, and there’s no way we can do it here.”
“You do it then,” Damian said. “Stop wasting time.”
“I don’t?—”
“My vicecapo understands the risks, Isabella,” I said and put a hand on her shoulder. “Help him.”
She stared at me for a second. Her skin was going a little gray, but she nodded all the same. “Hand me the scalpel.” It was in its own case in a side pocket. Isabella took it with her fingers shaking. “Keep him talking while I do this.”
I nodded. “When did things stop being fine?” I asked Damian, getting his attention.
“The shipment was put on one of my uncle’s trucks.” He hissed as Isabella cleaned his wound again. “But three blocks from the harbor…” Isabella started widening the wound, and Damian bit off a pained sound. “ Porca puttana .”
There was more blood now, and I handed her more gauze for her to pack the cut. “I need more light, Elio.” My cousin held the phone closer. “Keep talking, Damian,” she said, encouraging him. “What happened to the truck?”
He was pale and shaking now. “The truck turned off route, and I followed it into Bratva territory.”
“The Russians?”
He nodded, gritting his teeth. Fucking hell . The last thing I wanted to do was deal with the goddamn Russians. “Don Gallo is going to be pissed.” But, at the very least, he wasn’t the one screwing me over. We had a common enemy.
Isabella asked for the suture kit, and I found it and tore it open, careful not to touch any of the sterilized items inside. She took it, muttering a thank God it’s threaded , and then she started stitching his torn flesh back together. Even I could tell that her movements were jerky; her stitches weren’t entirely straight.
But she was taking care of one of my men. My closest companion. That warmth in my chest that I had begun to associate with Isabella was back.
It took a long time, and I wasn’t sure that Damian didn’t need a transfusion with all of the gauze and rags that were soaked through, but when she finished and cleaned the wound again, I could see pride shining in her eyes. “It’ll hold,” she said with a little nod. “I’ll need to keep an eye on him for signs of infection, and you should get him into physical therapy as soon as the stitches come out, but if all goes right, he should heal fine.”
“The stitches will need to be removed?” Damian asked. His words were slurred, but I was impressed that he was still awake.
Isabella nodded. “These aren’t dissolvable. I should be able to snip them out in about ten days. We’ll change your bandage tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you.”
She stood back and stretched. Her clothes and hair were spattered with blood. “He needs to rest for the next few days. Nothing more excessive than walking around the estate, all right?”
I nodded, but I knew Damian would be back tomorrow morning. He wasn’t one to lay about, even when he had a reason.
“I’m going to shower,” she said.
I reached out and touched her face, soft and uncaring of the splatters of blood. “Of course.”
It wasn’t until she had fled that I remembered that Isabella had come to my office unprompted. I would need to check on her, but that could wait until we got Damian to bed. “Come on, cugino ,” I said to Elio. “Let’s get him to his room.”
“I’m fine?—”
“Don’t start,” Elio said, cutting him off. “I can get you something for the pain, if you need it.”
We didn’t keep anything that would help Damian right now in the house, but Elio wasn’t wrong. I could have any pain medication that he wanted here within the hour. “I don’t want it,” Damian said, shaking his head.
Elio tsked . “Don’t be stupid. The pain is only going to get worse if you don’t take something.”
“Tylenol.” I knew that Damian didn’t want to bring the temptation of a narcotic into the house, and while I appreciated him looking out for Elio, I knew that he needed something stronger than an over-the-counter pain reliever.
As I was helping Damian limp from the office, I said, “Get him something with codeine in it. Have Amalia bring them up.”
“Sure thing, boss.”