Chapter 6 – Luca
LUCA
The hospital reeks of disinfectant and sickness. That smell alone makes me shudder, reminding me of the years spent watching our mother die.
Arms folded to stop myself from cracking my knuckles over and over, I stand outside the hospital room where the doctors brought her after surgery.
They know who I am. They took an oath to fix the damage that men like me inflict, and they don't want me here, hate me on sight, but they pretend otherwise and concentrate on doing their jobs.
"Luca." Nico appears at my shoulder, two cups of cafeteria coffee in his hands. He holds one out. I ignore it. "You need to calm down."
"I'm fine,” I growl, not giving a fuck about the filthy looks I’m getting from the staff loitering behind the nurse’s station who tried telling me we’re not supposed to be back here.
"I know that, but you glaring through the window at the people who saved her life isn’t helping. They’re just doing their jobs." He presses the cup into my hand. "She's not going anywhere."
I take the coffee, take a sniff and recoil in disgust. Instead of drinking, I move to the side and lean against the wall. There are too many people huddled around her in there, too many tubes and machines, for it to be good news.
“Shit,” I snarl, staring up at the ceiling.
Kate and I are due to marry in one month. It’s a strategic alliance disguised as romance, meant to cement peace between two powerful organizations who’ve been at each other’s throats for years.
Ever since my father killed the Irish mafia’s number two in a petty argument over a poker game.
We’re a good match on paper, a logical pairing, but not one of the heart. Which is exactly why it suits us both.
Kate’s in love with someone her brother will never approve of, and this marriage offers her an escape from Finn's control as much as it offers me legitimacy in my father's mind.
Or it would, if it goes ahead, but the odds of that happening are getting worse by the minute.
My phone buzzes with a call from Corso. I hold the phone away from my ear so Nico can listen. "We found the guy on the motorcycle. Caught him trying to hail a cab, still wearing the helmet,” Corso sneers.
“Idiot,” Nico mutters.
I grunt in agreement, but that raises another question. Why is someone that fucking stupid trying to take out one of the Calvano’s?
“Says he was paid to create a distraction. Fire a few shots out front, cause panic, then disappear. Says he thought it was a burglary, not a hit. Had no idea who he was fucking with.”
That makes more sense.
"Well then who the fuck hired him?" Nico hisses into the phone.
“Some guy approached him in a bar on the south side. Paid cash, gave him the keys to the bike and left. Told him to make lots of noise as he was leaving.” Corso pauses, and there’s the sound of car doors slamming in the background.
“We’ll keep trying to track the second gunman. I’m on my way to the bar now.”
“Che cazzo.” I pocket the phone and rub the heel of my hand against my chest.
"He's either lying or he's the stupidest criminal in Chicago," Nico mutters.
“I think it’s the latter.” And he’s going to pay the price for it.
He was just a decoy, making a big scene and causing panic by shooting out the glass while the real assassin slipped in and out the back.
And we fell for it. Now he’s going to be made an example of, a lesson to others about what happens when you fuck with the families.
The door to the room swings open, and a nurse rushes out looking frazzled. She glances at me, expression grim, then quickly turns away.
"How is she?" I step forward, blocking her path.
"You can’t be in here.” She turns, searching for the absent security guard who wisely decided not to stick around. “A doctor will update you when there’s more news, Mr. Calvano. She's alive. That's all I can tell you for now."
That's not exactly reassuring.
She slips past me, no doubt on her way to call the cops and try to get us evicted from the building.
"You need to call Finn."
I glare at Nico. “No shit. I was hoping I’d have some good news first.”
“No such luck,” Nico laments. “But he's going to find out soon. Better he hears it from you."
Spotting the nurse reappearing with two guards at her back, I leave Nico to deal with that mess while I move to a window at the far end of the recovery unit.
The glass is cold against my shoulder as I scan the parking lot three floors down, cursing at the sight of a news crew parked near the entrance.
Searching my contacts, I select Finn O'Sullivan’s name, head of the Irish families, notorious hothead, and my future brother-in-law.
With a muttered curse, I press call. Finn very reluctantly agreed to this union because it benefits us both, not because he likes me.
He’s made it very clear in our previous interactions that he doesn’t.
Finn picks up on the second ring. "Calvano." His accent is thick, his attitude already hostile. "I’m back in Ireland and it’s the middle of the fucking night. This better be important."
No point beating around the bush. I get right to it. "There was a shooting tonight. At the engagement party."
The one he refused to attend. And with Finn’s hatred for my father, his hair-trigger temper and fuck it attitude, Kate agreed that for everyone’s sake, he should be allowed to stay away.
"Kate?"
It’s the only reason I’d call, and she’s the only person there he’d care about getting hurt.
"Yes. She’s alive but just out of surgery. She lost a lot of blood." He knows exactly what that means. She’s in real trouble.
There’s silence down the line for a moment, only punctuated by the sound of his heavy breathing, and when he speaks again, his lilting Irish voice is like ice. "Who did it?"
"We’re working on it. We caught one, but he was just a hired distraction. Had no idea who he was working for or whose party he was interrupting."
Another prolonged silence.
"You're working on it," Finn repeats darkly, then laughs, not even the tiniest trace of humor in it. "My sister's been fucking shot, and you're working on it."
Closing my eyes, I squash the urge to remind him who he’s talking to. Now is not the time for egos.
"Finn—"
He interrupts me and a flicker of rage lights up inside me.
"This alliance was your idea, Calvano. You came to me with promises my sister would be safe." The more agitated he gets, the stronger his Irish accent becomes, and the more vicious his words. "If she dies, I will hold you personally responsible. Do you understand?"
He’s angry and justifiably so, but he’s taking it out on the wrong person.
"Yes.” I pause, regaining my composure, and speaking quietly into the phone. “But Finn, don’t ever fucking threaten me again. In this instance, I’ll let it pass because you’ve just received bad news, but don’t push me.”
That’s his warning. The only one he’ll get.
"Find who did this and pray my sister survives, because I want blood, and if it has to be yours, then so fucking be it."
The line goes dead.
"That went well," Nico comments dryly when I turn around, but he knows anything less than an all-out declaration of war is a win.
"About as expected." I can’t be mad. He’s acting exactly as I would if the tables were turned.
Finn will wait for us to find the hitman, but not for long.
I nod toward the end of the hallway where the nurse and two guards are huddled, one guard with a radio to his ear.
“They’re calling the cops,” Nico explains. “I tried to convince them we’re back here because we’re concerned about her life still being in danger, but they’re not having it. Said we need to stay in the waiting room like everyone else.”
My phone buzzes again. Bruno this time. I stay by the window, watching as yet another news van rolls to a stop outside. "Talk to me."
"She's home. If that's what you'd call it. The place should be condemned." Bruno’s disdain is clear, but that’s not what I’m really interested in. “I’m outside. Tony’s on his way.”
The heavy weight that was sitting on my chest lifts a little.
"Roommates? Boyfriend? Anyone we need to worry about asking questions?"
Sienna’s an only child, and her parents live far enough away that they won’t be beating down my door over this. The last thing I need is a boyfriend coming after me for having someone watch her house.
"The landlord says she lives alone. Has very few visitors."
None of this fits with the picture I had of what her life would be like by now. Where’s the practice, the kids, the labrador?
It doesn’t sit right with me, and I curse myself for caring at all. Sienna Fox is a chapter I closed a long time ago. Her life, or lack of it, is no business of mine.
Or, it wasn’t until now.
"Did she say anything else about the shooter?"
"No. Still insists she knows nothing." As a lawyer, Bruno’s usually good at spotting a liar or omitted truths. Not this time though.
"She's not telling us everything. I’m certain of it.”
Nico’s frown deepens, his interest piqued by my cutting assessment.
"Possibly," Bruno replies, guarded. "But that’s hardly surprising when she's scared. I'll speak to her in the morning. She might be more forthcoming then."
Shaking my head, I stand up straight. "No. I'll talk to her myself."
A pause. Then Bruno asks carefully, "Is this really just about the investigation? Because, in case I need to remind you, there could be a hitman out there who still wants your head. You should be laying low."
Nico nods along, even though nobody fucking asked him.
"Sienna’s an inconvenience I could do without." The words come out sharper than I intended. "But she may have seen something useful. And she's more likely to talk to me than a stranger."
Nico scoffs. He clearly disagrees.
"Whatever you think." Bruno doesn't sound convinced. "I'll keep watch until Tony gets here. The building isn’t secure. Anyone could just walk right in."
My gut clenches, but I school my reaction.
“If the shooter wanted her dead, he would have done it at the restaurant. But stay and keep an eye out for anything weird.”
"Bruno's still on her?" Nico asks. He already knows the answer. He’s fishing. "If someone decides to tie up that particular loose end…”
"He had a clean shot at us and didn't take it." Shaking my head, I downplay the gnawing worry in the pit of my stomach. Not taking us out was either professional restraint or a mistake the shooter might come to regret.
"You can’t rely on that.” Nico frowns. “Maybe he panicked. Later, when he's thinking clearly, he might go looking for her to finish the job. And Bruno, well, he spends more time behind a desk than…”
Nico doesn’t remember what Bruno was like when we were kids. If he did, he wouldn’t question my decision to leave him guarding Sienna, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to explain.
"Fuck, Nico, I know, but everyone else is tearing the city apart for the real shooter. And Tony’s going to be there soon."
Nico doesn't look satisfied, but he doesn't argue. "Your call."
The appearance of an officer in a CPD uniform puts an end to our vigil. “Time to leave, gentleman. Haven’t you caused enough trouble for one evening?”
Placing a hand on my brother’s shoulder, I shake my head at him, warning him not to rise to the bait. The last thing we need is to give them a reason to arrest us.
After some choice words from Nico, we go downstairs to the waiting area, a commotion from down the hall catching my attention. Raised voices, someone cursing, and the unmistakable sound of my brother Enzo's protests.
"I don't need a fucking wheelchair, I walked in here on my own two feet—"
We find Enzo inside a triage room, shirtless, getting stitched up. The wound on his arm is barely two inches long, but he’s reclining back, one hand to his head, like he’s about to faint.
"How's the bullet wound?" I drawl, fighting the urge to take out my phone and snap a picture of the scratch.
"It barely grazed him," Nico says to me. "Doesn't count."
Enzo growls and fidgets, the thin, white paper crinkling behind his back as he moves. "Fuck off, both of you." A pause. "And of course it counts."
Nico scoffs and steps closer, poking the wound, which earns him a punch in the shoulder from Enzo.
I check my phone. Another update from Corso. The bar was a dead end. Fuck.
A doctor appears in the doorway. He looks tired, and like we’re the last people he wants to deal with right now. He gives my brothers a withering look, taking in Enzo’s muscly torso and extensive tattoos, and turns to me.
"Mr. Calvano, Kate is still in critical condition. The surgery went well, but for now, all we can do is wait.” He looks down at my bloodstained clothes and hands. “I suggest you go home. Shower, eat, sleep if you can, and come back. You can’t do anything else tonight.”
With a nod, the doctor disappears out the door.
I check my watch. I won’t be getting any sleep tonight but there are other things I should be doing.
"Stay here, check on Kate,” I tell Nico. “And call me the second anything changes." I gesture to my ruined clothes. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
"I don’t suppose you’re going to make a little pitstop along the way?" Nico asks, though his tone suggests he already knows. “You shouldn’t be going anywhere alone. Why not wait until Enzo’s done, and I can go with you?”
Ignoring his offer, I continue to issue orders. “Get a bed with the best of recovery care made available for the moment Kate can leave.”
The abrupt change of subject doesn’t go unnoticed, and Enzo and Nico exchange glances but know better than to challenge me on it. “Sure thing.”
When I extend my palm and curl my fingers, Nico wearily drops his car keys into it with a groan.
"Be careful."
The night air hits me as I push through the doors of a staff entrance, avoiding the public main entrance where the press is waiting. It’s cold and sharp after the stale warmth inside.
Nico's car sits alone in the far corner of the lot, hidden in the shadows of an old oak tree. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I sit for a moment, hands resting on the leather steering wheel.
Nico’s warning wasn’t about the assassin still at large, or his precious car.
Sienna was my one weakness. The single crack in an otherwise impenetrable armor. I convinced myself I was done with her when she didn't turn up that night. When she decided I wasn’t the man she wanted to marry after all.
But tonight has proved I was wrong about many things, including whether I was capable of ever really letting go of Sienna Fox.