Chapter 5 #2
She unzipped the bag and tugged out enough fabric to reveal a rust-colored stain on it. “That’s your blood, I believe?”
I swallowed.
“It was on my hands.” Her voice was hard. She quickly stuffed the dress back into its bag and tossed it over one seat. “Sit down.”
Allie pointed to the turned-down duvet, now spread across a bed big enough to fit both of us.
Reluctantly, I followed her orders.
She tugged at her T-shirt, indicating I should unbutton my shirt.
“A mobile veterinary service?”
“I’m a licensed veterinary surgeon. At least they couldn’t take that from me.” The latter half was muttered to herself. Amusing, and a puzzle to solve…later. I unbuttoned my shirt and removed it so she could get a good look at the mess I’d made of myself.
Other than a subtle shift of her eyes as she scanned my chest and dipped lower, she kept her composure. “When did someone field dress this?”
She hadn’t approached. I was still that old dog who’d bite.
“I did this about ten to fifteen minutes before the wedding.”
Allie nodded to herself. “Not in the car, right?”
“No.” That would be stupid.
I spilled out at least one of my secrets and told her about the tattoo parlor.
She took a step forward and stopped. “May I?”
“I promise not to bite…hard.” What was I doing? Flirting? That wasn’t me. I must be addled.
Allie placed the back of her hand on my neck. “You’re warm. That’s not good.”
Her ministrations moved lower, and I sucked in a breath when she touched the tender skin above the wound.
“Normally, I’d say leave the dressing on until we get to a hospital, but…”
“I can wait eleven hours.”
Her eyes bored into mine. “You think so, huh?” The words challenged me.
“I know so.”
That didn’t get the reaction I’d intended. Her nimble fingers slipped the pad up while her other hand pressed me flat onto the bed.
“The bleeding has stopped. That’s good. You should get stitches, though.” The corners of her mouth tightened. “Does this hurt?” Her fingers pressed down on a spot about one inch from the wound.
I flinched.
“That’s a yep.” She shifted to inspect another section. This time her fingers were lighter as she prodded. Then she sat on the bed next to me. “You need antibiotics, stitches, and rest.”
I slid a glance at the bed I was on.
She understood, but frowned. “I’m going to see if there is a first aid kit.”
“No.” I caught her hand before she could stand.
Allie slipped it out of my grip. “Listen, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. But either way, I’m going to get you some pain reliever and a fresh bandage. This one is shit.”
“Don’t tell them I’m injured.”
Her eyebrow shot up. “Why not?”
I debated how much I could trust her. Perhaps a small gamble wouldn’t hurt? “What do you think caused my wound?” I knew the answer, but this was a test.
The narrowing of her eyes told me almost as much as I needed to know. “Quite possibly, a knife. Something sharp and angled like this when it entered here and glanced off here.” Her hand followed the line of Ringo’s thrust.
She already knew too much. But then she sealed her fate. “Did you know your liver extends from here up to here, and angles like this across your abdomen?” Her finger brushed my skin.
The liver being one of the major organs that, if damaged, could likely result in death.
One not as long or as lingering as stabbing me in the small intestine, but a much more painful process than catching my lung would have been.
Ringo aimed his strike with intention to make me regret every hour of my death with agony.
I’d been lucky to catch his hand and deflect it.
Allie stared at the wound site she’d lightly covered. “I’ll tell them I have an allergy and that I would feel better if it were at hand. Okay?”
Instead of letting her leave me, I leaned to activate the communication service. “Please send the stewardess to the back with the first aid kit. My wife has a headache.”
Allie rolled her eyes.
I shifted the sheet, so it covered my stomach and the bandages.
To my surprise, Allie tugged off her pants, exposing her long legs.
The stewardess knocked on the panel before opening the sliding door.
Her gaze dipped from Allie’s state of undress to mine on the bed.
With as much professionalism she could muster, she handed off the case without comment and slid the panel shut giving us privacy again.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Allie shrugged. “Better than getting blood on my pants. Do you know how hard that is to get out?”
I doubted she knew exactly how difficult some blood stains were to remove.
Then again, she was a surgeon who dealt with animals.
Her quick work to rummage through the kit, moving some items to the side and repacking others made me rethink her expertise.
Notably, she kept out three things that concerned me.
Foremost were the epinephrin and the atropine.
The first would be helpful if my heart stopped, and the second effective if it didn’t start up again.
“We won’t need those.”
Her glare dared me to shut up. “Just in case.”
If I died, I wanted neither. “Allie.”
She rummaged harder, searching each closed pouch and box.
“There’s nothing in here for stitches, and it’s worthless for deep sterilization.
Even if I could strip some of the silk from that damn wedding dress, this case is fucking useless.
Here.” She handed me two over-the-counter pain pills.
I swallowed them with a sip from the water bottle I’d brought back with us.
“Your bedside manner could use some work.”
“Animals don’t give a shit about manners.”
Despite myself, I laughed. Then tried to take my pants and shoes off.
But the pain was humbling.
“Let me.” Allie tugged off my shoes, undid my belt, and worked each pant leg off gently.
By the time I was down to my boxers, a fine sweat covered my skin. I shivered.
“That’s it. Get under the sheets.”
I thought you’d never ask.
Funny how that sounded like Ringo in my head.
Belatedly, I realized I hadn’t made room for Allie. I shifted closer to the windows.
“Don’t. These chairs recline, right?”
I nodded.
“Okay. Sleep. You need it.”
I tried, I really did, but somewhere over the Atlantic, my fever got worse. Allie checked on me and placed a cold washcloth on my head.
“Who did this to you?”
“It’s better if you don’t know.”
She frowned and let me toss for another hour in agony.
Between the waves of heat and the thrumming fire tormenting my side, I had a momentary dream. Ringo slipped through the bulkhead dressed from head to toe in black.
“How’d you get in here?”
“Through the door, like everyone else.” He smiled, then looked at Allie’s sleeping form on the chair across from me. Ringo’s grin grew wider. “Have you gotten a piece of that yet?”
“No.”
He sighed. “Are you going to be a Boy Scout your entire life? Let me fix that for you.” He slipped his knife out and sliced her throat.
I sat up straight in the bed and reached for her, but the aisle was miles wide. Her blood poured onto the carpet.
“No!”
I landed on the floor at Allie’s feet. That jolted her awake. She rolled me over and quickly checked the bandages for damage. “Did you fall out of bed?”
Ringo was nowhere to be found. And Allie was whole.
My breaths were too frantic, and my skin was too warm. “He said he’d kill me, and he did.”
“You’re not going to die.” She helped me get back into bed and straightened the sheets before retrieving another cold washcloth.
“Allie—”
“Nope, shush. I’ve got you.”
But who would protect her? I tugged the ring on my pinky off. It was a simple token, one I should have given her earlier. “Put this on. The crest points away from your hand in this way so others know who you belong to. Do not forget.”
Her forehead creased with concern.
I cut off her objections before she could voice them. “When we land, if I’m unconscious or unable to stay with you, you will speak for me, and with this ring positioned so, as me. Do you understand? You will show this ring to whoever you need to. Tell them—”
“No, here’s what’s going to happen. You’ll take the medicine I’m giving you, sleep if you can, and by the time the fever and pain seem like it’s too awful to survive, we’ll be on the ground and go to the nearest hospital. I’ll need to tell the flight—”
“No!”
“Mario, you need a hospital.”
“I need a phone.” Why hadn’t I thought this through earlier?
Allie rummaged through her bag and tugged out her cellphone.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it? “Does it have a signal?”
She checked it. “No.” Her shoulders slumped.
I didn’t expect it to. “There is a satellite phone in the conference area. It is secure. I will get—ow.” A wave of dizziness knocked me onto my back.
“I’ll go.”
If there was a woman out there for me, Allie had ruined their chances, because she was everything I needed. “Do you have paper, a pen?”
Allie pulled the items from her bag. I jotted down my father’s number.
He’d be closest. And the most brutal, but I couldn’t delay longer.
“Ask for Signore Niccolò Valentini. Confirm the line is secure and that he understands you are calling on behalf of me. Tell him I asked for Zio Tommaso to meet us at the penthouse. When the call is complete, bring a bottle of wine and some food back here. Do not tell anyone I’m injured.
Do not let anyone help you. Show them that ring if you have to. ”
“Don’t you trust them?”
“I don’t trust anyone.” I couldn’t anymore.
She glanced at the bandages. “I suppose you don’t.”
I caught her hand. “I am sorry.”
Her hand fisted. Despite that, her tone was soft. “For what?”
Maybe it was time? “For not being a good husband.”
A silent laugh shook her shoulders once. The smile it caused faded. “You’re not going to die.”
“Zio Tommaso. Understand?”
“Your uncle, he’s a doctor?”
She understood me? “It is code.”
“But not the code, right?”
I couched my words, hoping she’d understand the situation better. “Your grandfather?”
Her jaw worked sideways. “What about him?”
I closed my eyes, hoping I would be wrong. “He was an accountant, no?”
My peek at her was brief. She’d pinched her lips together so tightly, they turned white.
I continued. “His clients were…”
“Criminals,” she supplied.
Damn it. “But you understand code and the code?” I let go of her hand.
She twisted at the ring I’d slipped on her left hand. “Is this your family crest?”
I nodded once.
Her face shifted as she stared at her finger. “You know, most mob wives get a honking diamond.”
The sarcasm in her tone spoke louder than words. I brushed her hand with mine. “But their queens do not.” I dropped my hand and gave her silent permission to ruin my life. What remained of it.