Chapter 10 Luisa
TEN
Luisa
Even though I’m not supposed to be doing anything but resting, I jump when my police scanner buzzes with news of a shootout and a fire. When the address comes across, my face goes pale. It’s Angelo’s house.
“I told that motherfucker to live!” I roar.
Starling jolts, eyes blown wide.
I point at her as she darts away, tail puffed like I personally offended her. No time for this.
I’m already on my feet, grabbing my keys, shoving out the door.
I don’t care that I’m in civilian clothes, hair still dripping from my shower.
I told Angelo to live.
And if that bastard can’t even keep one damn promise, I’ll drag him back myself—with CPR, a defibrillator, or sheer fucking willpower—
Just so I can yell at him. Getting to his house isn’t easy. Not when it’s on fire.
Not when a firetruck blocks the road, police swarm the area, and bystanders lift their phones to record the chaos.
Not when an ambulance idles nearby, paramedics pacing, waiting for the inevitable.
But it’s not impossible.
The backyard fence is more for show than security. Old pallet wood, treated in different colors, laid horizontally instead of vertical.
Perfect for climbing. I take a breath—then vault myself over.
I park a block away from his place and make my way there. When I hear someone speaking Italian, I duck down. Every cell in my existence begs me to take the men out. I have a Taser on my belt, a baton, and my gun. I could drop them, I could arrest them, but ...
But Angelo. He could be hurt. He’s more important.
To the case.
Just the case.
“Go! Too many police!” one of them hisses.
Feet pound past me, sprinting away. The fire roars, heat licking at my skin.
Something cracks. A beam? A window? The house coming down? I push forward. No hesitation.
Angelo’s fence isn’t a barrier—it’s an invitation. Asking to be climbed.
I holster my gun and begin the ascent, cursing Angelo with every step. Where does he get off? One night, he tries to be all sweet after we have sex. The next he’s shoving me out of the house, acting like that will keep him from running his mouth.
And now ... now he goes and gets himself killed.
I shimmy over the top of the six-foot fence, drop down, roll, and pull my gun.
No shots. No movement.
Just the roar of the fire—
Then a gasp. A sputter. I whirl, gun ready. Someone hauls themselves out of the pool, coughing up water.
“Ray?” My pulse spikes as I spot the rookie cop, uniform sagging on his too-thin frame.
He coughs, wobbles, but stays on his feet despite the thick black smoke. I lunge forward, yank him down.
“Crawl,” I order. “Get over the fence, head to the front. Officers. Paramedics. Go.”
Ray points at the pool, then tosses his Taser aside. There’s no gun in his belt.
Shit.
He salutes—fucking salutes—then scrambles away.
I pull my shirt up over my mouth and nose, then push forward, eyes locked on the pool.
My eyes dart to the house. A hand clamps around my shoe. I whirl, gun raised—
Angelo.
He hauls himself out of the pool, dripping, breathless. In two strides, he’s on me.
He yanks off his soaked shirt, since he bothered to put one on for once, and tries to wrap it around my face. I shove at him. “What the fuck! I tell you to stay alive and you hear ‘burn down the house’?”
He chuckles and pulls me against him, kissing me. “I’m sorry I worried you, Topolina.”
“Angelo, don’t you even-”
He shoves me down as bullets fly by over our heads. We’re in a bush together. Great.
Angelo’s gaze flicks sideways.
Then—CRACK.
He kicks a plank of wood, snapping it. Another splinters under his boot. His jaw clenches, swallowing a yell.
I follow his gaze—
Shit.
A bullet wound. Too high, too close. Blood blooms, spreading fast.
“Oh, fuck this.” I grab him. “The one part of you I like and they’re trying to ruin it.”
“Luisa,” Angelo starts.
I roll onto my belly, peek through the bush, and ignore Angelo’s sharp ‘no.’
Then—I fire.
Non-Lethal. Just enough to make them stagger.
The two guys—not his family, from what I remember—scramble back.
Before I can fire again, Angelo yanks me away from the edge, dragging me back.
He shoves me through the hole he made in the fence. I reach in, grab him, haul him up. He grunts, wincing as he gets to his feet.
Angelo—my Angelo, bleeds from his shoulder, his thigh. Too much blood. My jaw locks. He presses a kiss to my forehead. “Anger later, mighty mouse. Get me to the paramedics, please.”
“I told you-”
He cuts me off with a soft kiss. Then fists his hand in my hair, tightening just enough.
“Be fierce later. Yell at me later,” he rasps. “Right now? Get me to the paramedics before my father puts a bullet in my head.” He wraps his arm around me. “Or yours.”
I scan the backyard one last time, then pull his good arm over my shoulder and haul him toward the front.
“Give me your gun, Luisa,” he rasps.
“No.” My grip tightens. “I was just in the neighborhood. Saw the news about a fire,” I shrug, keep moving. “Then I did my job.”
Angelo sighs, but we keep moving. By the time we reach the front, I call out for Eric and he rushes over, helping me haul Angelo onto a gurney.
Not gently. But he can take it.
Eric glances at Angelo before turning on me. “What are you doing her, Luisa?”
I throw up a hand. “I saw the news! You think I—”
“What are you doing here?” His eyes search mine. “Don’t you tell me ...”
I hold his gaze. Try to lie, dodge, deflect. Then Angelo coughs. Wet, ugly, wrong. My feet move before I can think, stepping toward him.
Eric lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “Are you serious?”
I turn back to him, lips curving. “You started this. How is ‘Emmy?’”
“That’s not-”
I walk around Eric and jab a finger at Angelo. “You are too much trouble to be under house arrest, you know that?”
He stares at me, not reacting, ignoring the paramedics fussing over him. His eyes lock onto mine, dark, unreadable. “What are you saying, officer?”
I cross my arms. “I’m saying you’ve got three options. Witness protection, a cross country move, or a jail cell. And considering your own family is gunning for you ...” I shake my head. “You should talk to someone who’s been in your position before.”
He coughs again, too rattled or running too high on adrenaline to grasp what I’m getting at. Even when I try to mention Emilia’s name, the paramedics push me aside, focused on loading him into the ambulance.
One of the paramedic’s steadies me with a hand on my hip.
Angelo sits up with pure hatred in his eyes.
“Touch her again. I dare you,” he threatens the man.
The paramedic freezes. “Sir, you need to go to the hospital. You may need surgery. That means leaving-”
“Put her in the fucking ambulance,” Angelo growls, voice low, dangerous. “Or I’ll get off this gurney and show you why I was in jail.”
The paramedic looks at me. I glance back at Eric, who just shakes his head.
But I’ve already made up my mind. I climb into the ambulance, keeping my eyes on everyone inside.
Let the paramedics do their jobs, but I’m not letting my guard down.
They strap an oxygen mask over Angelo’s face and work on his bullet wounds.
Angelo puts his hand out toward me. I ignore it, glancing at the driver, then toward the back of the ambulance. I don’t trust this. Not even a little bit. I keep my gun at the ready, thumb brushing the safety.
Angelo rips the oxygen mask off, sending the paramedics into a flurry of protests. “Fuck off, I’m breathing just fine.”
“You asked who takes care of me,” he says, voice rough.
I glance at him. “No one’s strong enough.” The words come automatic, but my gut tightens.
Something feels off. The Rossi family has people in my department, who were unafraid to try to kill Angelo. Would it be a stretch for them to have someone in EMS, too?
My grip on my gun tightens
I look at him. His face is pale, his breathing ragged.
Shit.
I swallow hard, then press the oxygen mask back over his mouth.
“You’re running low on oxygen,” I murmur. “Can’t afford to lose more brain cells.”
The paramedics in the back are still clambering around, fumbling with equipment—too much movement, too much distraction.
Something’s wrong.
Angelo catches my eye. A silent warning. I click my seatbelt just as the impact slams into us.
Metal shrieks, the force of the hit ripping through the ambulance. The world tilts.
Angelo’s hand locks around mine, a vise grip even as his body thrashes against the restraints.
Focus on him. Focus on him.
But the ambulance rolls—hard.
The violent jolt slams my head into something solid.
Pain. White-hot.
Then—darkness.
“Topolina,” a soft voice says.
It can’t reach me. I’m floating in black water, feeling good. It’s like getting a full body massage. Some annoying, cold threat creeps up the back of my neck, and then my lips buzz, being tickled by something.
“Little mouse, if you don’t wake up, I’ll have to strip you myself and-”
My eyes snap open. Instinct kicks in. I swing. Angelo catches my fist, laughter rumbling from his chest. Smug bastard. He kisses my forehead. “There you are.”
I blink, trying to force the world into focus.
The lighting is off—everything reddish, like we’re stuck inside a bad dream.
“The ambulance?” My voice is hoarse.
Angelo shakes his head. “No.”
He shifts, watching me too closely. “I slipped the handcuff they put on me. Thankfully, your gun was dry.” A smirk flickers at the edge of his mouth. “I’m sure you’ll get a commendation for taking out some nasty mafia men.”
My stomach turns. “I… didn’t.”
The pieces don’t fit.
“Of course you did.” His voice steady, but there’s something off. Something calculated. “I wouldn’t kill my own family just to save an officer I hate. You pulled the trigger before I could do anything.”
My pulse stutters. No. That’s not right.
But before I can push through the fog in my head, he keeps going—relaxed, steady, like he’s already rewritten the story.
“Eric found us. He’s putting us both in witness protection until my trial… or until I agree to help the police.”
I try to sit up, but the world tilts, my skull splitting open with pain. Every sound warps, echoing in waves, crashing over my mind until I miss unconsciousness.
“She needs a hospital,” Angelo snarls.
“If we show ourselves, you’ll put her at risk,” Eric argues.
Angelo snaps. “Then put me in a fucking solitary cell and take her to the hospital. I didn’t betray my father for—”
He switches to Italian. His voice grows raw, desperate. And I fade back out. It’s too hard to stay awake. Everything is too loud, too exhausting, and it takes too much effort just to open my eyes.
It all hurts. I don’t fight it. I slip under again. And then—
I wake to luxury.
The soft lap of water against stone, the low hum of music, someone singing in the distance. A salty breeze brushes my skin. I frown. The last thing I remember was… arguing in Italian. Someone touching my head.
Eric. Angelo. A gun?
I blink hard, trying to force my thoughts into order. Hospital. I expect bright lights, sterile walls, the sharp, artificial sting of disinfectant. Instead, I find silk sheets.
A clay-red building with a balcony outside the window. Pale yellow walls.
And—
“What… what is—”
The bed shifts beneath me. A warm weight presses against my side.
“Finally.”
I turn my head too fast, nausea rolling through me. Angelo is next to me, curled up with my damn cat. Starling chirps, rubbing her face against my shoulder, content.
“Where… what—” I can’t put my thoughts in order.
Angelo moves closer, setting Starling on my stomach so he can slide his arm under my head, his fingers stroking my cheek.
“Take it easy, little mouse.” His voice is low, soothing. “Severe concussion. You’re not at full thinking power yet.”
I blink up at him. “Angelo?” He presses a slow kiss to my temple. “I promised I’d stay alive, but I have a confession.”
My stomach tightens.
His eyes darken, but his touch stays gentle. Too gentle. “I broke another promise.”
A chill skates down my spine. My cat is here. Angelo is here. We are not where we’re supposed to be.
“I had to kill for you, Luisa.”
The words drop like stones.
His fingers trace my jaw, slow, deliberate. “I knew you wouldn’t hold back if lethal mafia men came for me.”
His lips brush my forehead. “So I handled it first.”
I swallow, my throat thick, dry, unsure.
“Just the two, though.” His voice almost casual. “Everyone else lived. Eric. Emilia.”
His fingers slip into my hair, soothing.
“I even got your cat for you.”
Like that makes up for everything.
His hand tightens, just a fraction.
“So all you need to do is rest, vita mia.”