Chapter 31
The moment Emilio shuts the door, the woman cries out and bends forward, a contraction hitting.
My guess is that the baby is coming soon.
Glancing at the bed, I take her in.
Something about her looks so familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Her dyed red hair is piled back in a messy bun.
She grabs her purse, squeezing her face in pain as she rifles through it. “I need to get a hold of Andre.”
“Liliya.” Emilio’s gaze cuts to me. “You can go to the waiting room.”
I stubbornly stay in my chair.
It’s childish and rude. I wouldn’t want a random woman in my labor room.
A gentle knock on the door interrupts us.
“Hi there,” a nurse softly greets, entering the exam room.
Emilio moves toward my chair, callously staring down at me as the nurse talks to Mystery Pregnant Woman.
He keeps his tone low, so only I can hear, “Waiting room. Now.”
Not wanting to create a scene, I stand and quietly slip past the nurse on my way out. A few other people are in the waiting room, and the kid behind me watches Peppa Pig at full volume.
All eyes rise to Emilio as he storms into the waiting room.
He fixes his tired stare on me. “Let’s go.”
I jump to my feet and follow him through the parking lot, straight to the sedan.
“We’re leaving her?” I ask as he unlocks the car.
“We’re going to find her husband.”
“Husband?” I stress, blinking at him.
“Yes, the father of her baby.”
“Oh.” I press a hand to my heart, silently saying, Thank God, to myself.
I can at least cross secret love child off my list of possible marital problems.
As soon as we’re in the car, Emilio inputs an address into the GPS and drives off. After a short drive, he pulls into an empty warehouse parking lot.
He cuts the engine. “Get out.”
This day just won’t end.
First, I had to deal with my mother and Aleksy.
Then, we had the whole car-chase, shoot-out situation.
Now, I’m in Chicago, hunting down a pregnant woman’s husband and about to walk into a shady warehouse.
The wind hits me as I follow him inside, and as soon as we enter, I notice two men. One slouched in a chair at a table, and the other standing beside him.
The standing guy reaches for his gun. “Emilio?”
He doesn’t relax until he’s certain it’s him.
Emilio stalks toward them. “Where the hell is your phone, Andre?”
I struggle to keep up, halting when I reach them. The man in the chair is shirtless, and blood soaks the towel pressed to his shoulder. His lip’s split, and his cheek is turning purple.
“Lost it somewhere in the middle of getting shot,” the man sitting mutters, gesturing to his shoulder.
“She’s in labor,” Emilio snaps, not even caring about the man’s wound.
“Fuck!” Andre tosses the towel aside, trying to stand, and blood pours from his wound.
I stumble back to avoid getting splattered.
Before he can fully rise, Emilio shoves him back into the chair by his injured shoulder.
The man curses and punches Emilio’s ribs.
Neither of them flinches.
It’s like watching two cousins fight.
Emilio jerks his chin at me. “She’ll get the bullet out. Then, we’ll go to the hospital.”
“You took her to the fucking hospital?” the man screams, his face turning almost as red as the blood coming out of him. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Neither the midwife nor Angelica answered their phones,” Emilio snarls at him. “And it seems you were out playing target practice—you being the fucking target.”
“You’re lucky she’d care if I murdered your ass,” Andre says, flexing his jaw.
“Same,” Emilio says. “We’re wasting valuable time arguing.” He whistles, pointing at me. “Bullet. Out. Now.”
Andre pushes to his feet again. “She can do it on the drive to the hospital.”
I quickly shake my head.
Not freaking happening.
I’m not about to play Operation while Emilio swerves through traffic.
“If we’re going to the hospital, they can stitch him up there,” I say, suggesting the obvious.
“No,” the man grinds out. “If they stitch me up, I won’t be with my wife. And I don’t like hospitals.” His face hardens as he eyes me down. “Who are you?”
I shift from one foot to the other. “Liliya.”
“Russian.” His gaze flicks to Emilio. “This the wife?”
Emilio tensely nods.
“Andre,” the man introduces before pointing at the burly guy. “This is Opal.”
“Now, let her get that bullet out of you,” Emilio tells Andre. “If you waste another minute, I’ll have her push it in you deeper.”
Andre nods, and I eye the first-aid kit on the table.
They clearly planned to take care of the gunshot hole themselves.
Andre is sweating bullets as I dig the tweezers inside his wound, trying to find the bullet.
“There,” I whisper to myself when I find where it’s lodged.
I’m surprised he doesn’t wince or scream as I carefully pull the bullet out.
It’s covered in blood as I drop it onto the table.
He snatches the bullet, slipping it into his pocket.
As soon as I’m finished stitching him up, he stands. “Now, take me to my wife.”