Chapter 17 #2
I end the call and rap lightly on the door.
It’s the only warning I give before pushing it open.
My focus zeroes in on Tre. I take in her expression and her body language.
She’s pensive, but I see no signs that someone upset her.
She appears exhausted, and that bothers me as much as it would if she was angry or sad.
“Tre, do you want to get some sleep?”
I ignore everyone else as I approach her bed. I glower at Tommaso until he moves enough for me to return to my spot beside her. I don’t give a shit if their conversation is over or not. It is now.
“I’m okay for now, but?—”
She yawns, then smiles sheepishly.
“Have you been yawning for long?”
“A few minutes maybe.”
My gaze swings to Kathleen then Frank. I know they understand my expression’s screaming “what the fuck.” Frank nods, but Kathleen returns my glare.
She’s holding Tre’s right hand while I now have her left again.
I look at Tommaso then Santino. They’re pretending to be oblivious. Caremondas. Penis faces.
I look at Stella then Vittoria before gazing down at Tre. Both women nudge their husbands. They got the hint. I want Frank and Kathleen to stay. Not because I want to grill them—I mean I do—but I want them to stay because it would make Tre feel better.
The two couples hug their niece. I shake the women’s hands before I slide both of mine into my scrub pants pockets.
Everyone knows it’s a slight and a warning.
There isn’t a man in the room who doesn’t have at least one knife in his trouser pockets.
I’ll draw faster than them—because my hands are already wrapped around the hilts but also because I’m younger and better. They know that.
Once I’m alone with Tre and her parents, I focus solely on the woman I’ve fallen head over heels for. She watches me, and I know she’s wondering what I did in the hallway.
“Tía Margherita and Madeline said you can talk to them if you have any questions. You can send pics of your chart or video of your monitor whenever you want.”
“I appreciate that.”
“So do we.” Frank says it begrudgingly, but at least he can be decent once every few years.
“Tía Elle asked that you call or text whenever you’re up to it. I know this really upset her.”
“I’m surprised she didn’t come up with you.” Kathleen’s eyes narrow with each word until she’s practically squinting.
“Mom, she offered. I told her we’d be fine. We had no more reason than normal to think we wouldn’t be.”
“She knows she should’ve come anyway.”
That doesn’t make me suspicious as fuck.
“Joaco, your aunt and my aunt are best friends. It’s been months since they’ve seen each other. My mom knows Aunt Tori is disappointed she didn’t get to see Elle. Mom and Aunt Stella are too.”
“Mmm. I’m sure my tía will the next time Tommaso is out of town. You traveling any time soon, Frank?”
Tía Elle isn’t fond of Frank either. She holds him only slightly less responsible for the botched mission that nearly got Alejandro killed.
I’m pretty sure she exchanged words with Frank along with Tommaso when Tommaso gave her the assignment.
I know Tommaso threatened to send Steven, and Frank’s so far up his brother’s ass he’d never disagree with him.
“No.”
Pity.
I keep that thought to myself. As much as I enjoy antagonizing Frank because it’s always been so easy, it’ll upset Tre. I won’t be the one to do that.
“Do you want to sleep, chica?”
While no man in my family uses chiquita or chica casually—it’s reserved for the women we marry—it’s common enough slang in Spanish that an outsider wouldn’t know its significance.
The other families each have a term the men have adopted over time that distinctly means baby girl or little girl.
The words stand out, but we respect their importance.
I don’t need Kathleen and Frank realizing how meaningful it is to me.
“You’re staying, right?”
“Of course.”
A knock on the door tells us it isn’t hospital staff. Frank reaches for his gun while I slide my hand back into my pocket, and Kathleen unzips her purse. An attacker isn’t likely to announce themselves, but we take nothing for granted.
“Come in.” I don’t like how weak Tre’s voice sounds, but it’s loud enough for the person to push open the door.
“Capitán, disculpe la molestia. Le traje ropa limpia.” Captain, sorry to disturb you. I brought you some fresh clothes.
It’s one of my guys. I’m glad to have them and to get out of these scrubs.
It’s hard to appear intimidating when you look like you’re in pajamas.
I made sure I hid my weapons under my clothes when they gave me a bag for my belongings and a hospital gown.
I slipped the knives into my pockets when I got the scrubs.
The gun’s nearby, still wrapped in my ripped trousers.
“I’ll be right back, Tre.”
I grab the stuff, thank my guard, and slip into the bathroom.
I’m in and out in a couple minutes despite how excruciating it is to rush when I have road rash and stitches.
I wanted to grimace with every move while the Vizzinis were here.
I’m struggling to hide it from Frank and Kathleen since I wish I could sleep too.
It’s reassuring to have my gun at my lower back again.
Kinda like a favorite stuffed animal, blanket, or pacifier for a baby.
“Mom and Dad, are you staying too?”
Tre sounds less enthusiastic about that than when she asked me.
“Do you want us to?”
“If you want.”
She hedges when her father asks her a question that she doesn’t want to answer honestly.
“We’ll have dinner with Tristano and fill him in. We’ll come back first thing. Call us if you need us back sooner.”
Kathleen leans forward to kiss Tre’s forehead.
I’m certain she’s hoping Tre will call, so they can rush back and kick me out.
Not happening. Frank hesitates when I offer him my hand, but we shake, and it isn’t the pissing match it was the first time.
He accepts the olive branch I didn’t offer his brother or their chief advisor.
“Tre?” I wait until the door shuts behind her parents.
“Che vita di merda.”