Chapter Ten
Noah
From regret to shame, my feelings had run the gamut. I had no business getting close to Dr. Wentworth, and it was as much for her good as my own. She wasn’t suited to my lifestyle, she was innocent, and she had too much on her plate to add my shit to it.
My father was beside himself after her nightmare.
He’d been woken by her screaming and called me immediately to come help.
At first, my thoughts veered to one of our rivals breaking into her room, assuming it was my father’s, and when I couldn't bust the lock on the adjoining door, I’d used the key card to her main door to let myself in.
To see her sprawled out on the floor, her eyes wide but unseeing as she screamed in terror, sent my heart thumping into my throat.
I couldn't interpret her words, either. She wasn’t making sense, but I suppose that was typical after such an ordeal. Still, I couldn't fathom why losing a patient would trigger such an intense nightmare.
Then again, as I’d recently discovered, she was pure of heart. Her patients meant the world to her, and she treated each of them as individuals with lives worth caring about. They weren't case files or numbers on a screen to her. Her innate goodness was just one more reason to steer clear of her.
I’d only ruin her spirit, blackening the morals she held dear until I could mold her to my liking. She didn't deserve that, and I shouldn't want that from her.
“Have you checked on Sailor this morning?” Dad asked as he sipped his coffee. It was almost as if he could read my mind.
I sat across from him, eating my breakfast and scrolling on my phone. Gio thought he might have found something, but he wanted to verify its authenticity before divulging it to me.
“No, why would I?”
“After last night, why wouldn't you?” he countered.
“Feel free to check on her yourself.”
He made a disgruntled noise. “Maybe if I didn't get winded after five steps, I would.”
I feared a headache was brewing behind my eyes. “Fine, I’ll check on her.”
Setting my phone down carefully, I pushed back my chair and walked over to the adjoining door. I didn't like the feeling in my gut as I knocked and waited with my hands in my pockets. It felt entirely too much like anticipation.
Sailor opened the door with a scowl on her face. She was fully dressed, her hair pulled back in its usual bun. No traces of a lack of sleep showed on her face, something I couldn't claim myself.
“Yes?”
I cleared my throat. “Dad wanted me to make sure you're okay this morning.”
“I’m fine.” Leaning around the door, she made eye contact with my father, who smiled and lifted his mug in salute. “Thank you, Benito. I’ll come take your vitals just as soon as I’ve had breakfast.”
“Could’ve just as easily eaten with us,” he said loudly as she closed the door.
Returning to my seat, I hurried to finish my eggs before they got cold.
“What did you do to her last night?” Dad asked, his tone accusatory.
I felt my shoulders stiffen. “What makes you think I did anything to her?”
“She’s bristly this morning.”
“Yeah, well, I technically invaded her privacy by using the spare key card to let myself into her room. She should be spitting mad.” My phone pinged, and I picked it up, but I wanted to finish the conversation with my father before I checked it.
“It’s not like you broke in for a bad reason, but to see if she was being attacked or something, for Christ’s sake.”
That was definitely a headache I was feeling, and it wouldn’t go away any time soon. “We wouldn't be worried about that if she wasn't associated with us, now would we?”
He scoffed. “She needed checking on, that’s all. Scared me to death with her hollering.”
“And now she's embarrassed to be seen after having a nightmare. Can’t blame her.”
Dad drained his coffee. “Still, you should do something nice for her today.”
Putting my phone down with a snap, I barked, “No, I shouldn't.”
“What’s gotten into you, son? I thought you’d finally realized she’s a good person.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem.” Pushing my plate away, I said, “She’s a good person, and we’re fucking criminals.”
Dad frowned at me. “When has your occupation ever stopped you from being with a woman?”
“First off, stop trying to push us together, for fuck’s sake.
” Standing up, I leaned over and braced my hands on the table, meeting his gaze to make sure he knew I was serious.
“Second, other families’ daughters or groupies are a hell of a lot different than that woman in there, who is cloaked in scruples. ”
“I just hate that she’s alone, that’s all. I’m not trying to force you into anything.”
“Don’t use that sweet old grandpa routine on me.” Snatching up my phone as it went off again, I added, “Gio has something for me. I’ll be back later.”
I had to get out of that hotel, where I’d placed Sailor directly in my path to assuage my guilt over what happened, only to feel suffocated by her presence instead. What the fuck had I been thinking?
Since we were targets now, we were all traveling with guards. Though I bristled at being babysat, I accepted the protection of Roman Barrett as I headed to the abandoned restaurant in Queens to meet with Gio.
“Tell me you have proof,” I said as I walked in.
Gio rose from the booth he’d been sitting in. “Not exactly. I tried to get confirmation, but for now I just have rumors.”
“And?” I demanded.
“And the Lombardis have been bragging about something big coming up. They’re telling a few well-placed men that they’re about to rise in this city.”
“But we can’t take action against rumors, Gio.”
That wasn't the groundbreaking news I’d been waiting for. Pacing over the dusty floor littered with debris, I tried to think of a plan.
“I know we can’t, which is why I was trying to look into it further. But I think they’ve realized those people weren’t keeping the information close like they were told to, and now they’ve clammed up.”
“Have the Lombardis ever used bombs or drones in their attacks?” I couldn't think of anything, but maybe he could.
He took out a cigarette and lit it. “Not that I can remember, and I’ve asked the older men if they can recall a time when they might have. So far, nothing.”
“We signed a peace deal with them. They don't mess with us, and we don't mess with them. What would they even have against us that would make them want to break that and risk the retribution they know would fall on their heads?”
“Honestly, I can’t think of anything either. But, um, it has occurred to me . . .”
“Spit it out,” I snapped.
“This isn't about you.”
I knew what he meant because I’d thought of that too. I couldn't help but run all the scenarios through my head.
“You think it’s old business.”
“I do.”
“For one, if it is, then there’s nothing I can do to stop this.” My pacing brought me to the grimy windows, and I looked out at the empty sidewalk. “Two, if this is about Dad, someone has waited a long goddamn time to get their revenge.”
“Which means it’s an older generation family like the Russos, or the new Lombardi head wants to fuck Benito over for something he did to his father back in the day.”
“We haven't done anything egregious to either of them that I’m aware of. Surely Dad would have mentioned it if he knew of a betrayal they’d be looking to pay us back for?”
“You’d think,” Gio answered. I turned to see him calmly smoking his cigarette. “But maybe it’s something he doesn't want us to know about.”
My heart beat triple time before settling again. “Your opinion is that my father is keeping something from me?”
“I have no idea, Noah, I’m just saying we can’t find a reason, and there has to be one.”
The headache had only gotten worse, and it wouldn't let me think. Every part of my body wanted me to deny that my father would keep secrets or tell lies to his only son.
I hadn't realized I’d closed my eyes until Gio put his hand on my shoulder and I blinked.
“I know it’s a lot to think about, and I won’t lay blame until I’ve got more information.”
Needing to swallow past the painful lump in my throat, I took a second before responding. “Thank you, Gio.”
“Be safe,” he said as I walked out with Roman on my heels.
Apparently, I wasn't in that much danger after all.
On the ride back, I tried to concentrate on all the plots we’d executed against rival families over the years. I’d always assumed I knew of them or was part of them as I got older, but maybe that was a mistaken assumption.
Back in the hotel room, Sailor was finishing up with Dad as I walked in, and she launched into a speech as soon as the door clicked closed.
“His vital signs are excellent, his pulse ox is fantastic, and his breath sounds are much improved. I don't think he’ll need me here much longer.”
The clinical way she spoke to me made me long for the night before at the dinner table, but that thought just made me snap out of my haze.
“Perfect. Thank you, Dr. Wentworth.”
“No problem, Mr. Costa.”
She retreated to her room, and I was left facing my father.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
“Were there any orders you never told me about?” I asked instead of answering him.
“Orders?”
Oh, but he wouldn't meet my gaze, and that burned a hole in my gut. “Yeah, Dad, any hits or attacks you ordered but never told me about?”
“I didn't tell you about anything when you were younger, but you got all the files when you became of age.”
That was what I expected him to say. “And yet, the Lombardis have been bragging that they’re about to hit it big around here.”
He frowned. “Why would they say that?”
“That’s what I want to know! Gio thinks this about you, and I have to agree with him. I’m not only not officially the head of this family, but I haven’t carried out any orders on my own.”
His expression was unreadable; the ultimate old-school Italian mafia don using the mask to cover his thoughts. “Well, you’re right. I haven't done anything without you in years—decades, at this point—and I’ve told you every single horrible thing I’ve ever done. None of my sins remain secrets.”
When I didn't say anything, he stared me down.
“Not with you, son. I promise.”
I had to believe him, and not only for the sake of the business, but for the sake of our relationship. “Then it’s something old they’re digging up that they’ve decided to be pissed about.”
“We’ve done plenty to them over the years, before the agreed-upon peace talks. Nothing since then.”
My father got up from his chair, and I watched him pace to the window and back to the table. It reminded me how much I took after him, and then I narrowed my eyes.
“I thought you said five steps makes you feel winded?”
He barely spared me a glance. “Sometimes.”
But I watched him going back and forth, back and forth like a caged animal.
“If you’re better, then what game are you playing at?”
“I want her to stick around, okay?” Finally facing me, Dad showed me all the emotions he usually hid, and they had the power to stun me. “I don’t want her to be alone, goddammit.”
My face heated, and so did my temper. “She can’t stay here forever.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
“Yes,” he snapped. “Just like I know that whatever the fuck they gave me in the hospital worked, despite my feelings about being there.”
Relief and irritation fought against each other. “So the whole ‘I don't want to die in the cold, sterile hospital alone’ bit was bullshit?”
Dad stopped his pacing, coming to a stop behind his chair and leaning on it. “Not entirely. If Sailor hadn't been there to insist I follow instructions, I would have gotten worse. My stubbornness would have seen to it.”
“So you thank her for doing her job well and move on with your life.”
“I know I have to, if for no other reason than that I have to get back to running the business, especially so I can deal with whatever is going on.”
Part of me was insulted that he wouldn't give up the reins just yet when I’d shown him I was capable of running the business without him.
But the other part of me, the part that was grateful he was alive, didn't care. He could take it back, and I’d go back to doing his bidding instead of making the major decisions.
There was a knock at Dad’s door, and I strode across the room to check the scope before opening it for the concierge.
“Good afternoon, signori.” He held out a leather bill folder. “Can I assist you with anything else?”
“No, thank you.” With a frown, I took it and opened it. Scanning the itemized bill quickly, I looked up at my father. “Sailor checked out.”
“Without saying goodbye?”
He sounded entirely too offended. “Apparently.”
“That’s, um, that’s probably for the best. We should keep it professional.”
The words were right, but I knew he didn't mean them. I wasn't sure how I felt either, but I knew I didn't like it.
Which was how I knew she’d done the right thing.