CHAPTER SEVEN
Deep underneath my skin
— CLEMENTE —
My heart is pumping on overdrive when I jump out of the car. Arturo is right behind me when we enter the nightclub and have to move through the crowd of people to get to the bathroom where Beck said he’d meet me.
To think I didn’t even want to take his damn call when we were interrogating the guy who wanted to snatch whores away from our whorehouses.
The little shit obviously worked for someone but he’s tough and didn’t so much as make a peep.
Not even when I broke one of his fingers or when Arturo started to play around with his knife.
Like I said, I didn’t even want to take Beck’s call, but the second I did, nothing else mattered except getting here as soon as I could. I didn’t want to take it because I missed Rina’s call before his and I was trying to call her back.
I finally answered Beck’s call and he told me Rina called him to ask if Flora was with him and to keep her safe.
She mentioned something happened in the bathroom and to hurry, and how she couldn’t reach me.
Their call disconnected and when Beck got to the bathroom the door wouldn’t open and no one answered when he called out, neither did Rina pick up the phone.
I told him to stay put. I was already in the car, and now—less than ten minutes later—Arturo and I are making our way through the hallway until I see Beck, Flora, and Donya guarding the bathroom door.
“Where’s Mattia?” I wonder out loud.
Beck points at the bathroom door. “I think they’re still in there but it seems locked from the inside out.”
One look at the floor and my blood runs cold at the sight of a crimson trail heading for the emergency exit.
I point at it and Arturo palms his gun and rushes forward to follow the trail.
I inch closer to the door and try the handle. I don’t want to waste time to get the keys from the manager or the cleaning lady, and so I bellow as hard as I can to carry my voice over the booming sound coming from upstairs, “Rina! Step away from the door, I’m gonna kick it in.”
There’s no sound and at this point I’m overcome with different kinds of emotions, and some of them are foreign. Fear. Fear is ripping through me at the mere thought of Rina being hurt, or worse, ripped from me.
I take a step back and kick the door. It takes two hard kicks before the lock gives way. What my eyes and brain process the second I step inside slices through me with the force of a thousand knives.
There’s a large pool of blood and both Mattia and Rina are surrounded by it. Her eyes are dull and locked onto an oblivious stare. My knees hit the blood covered tiles and I take her head in my hands.
“Rina,” I croak. “Please.”
Lifeless. Utterly lifeless and without any strength I pull her against my chest.
“Please Rina,” I mutter and let my fingertips slide to her neck while I let her body lean against mine like a sack of potatoes.
There! I pull back and try to assess the damage. The only thing I can find is a flesh wound on her upper arm. All the blood seems to be from Mattia.
“Talk to me Rina,” I try again. “You’re okay, aren’t you? Or were you shot anywhere else?” Her eyes fall down to land on Mattia again. “Rina,” I snap, trying to break through the shock she’s clearly sucked into.
There’s a huge difference between training for something—knowing what’s out there and what might happen—and actually experiencing something as brutal as getting your friend killed right before your eyes.
Or I imagined that’s what happened, but I just stumbled onto this scene. And I am a big asshole for thinking it, but I’m damn grateful Rina is still breathing, even if Mattia is lying dead in her lap while they’re surrounded by a pool of blood.
“I told Beck to take Flora home. He prevented her from glancing inside. Cops are on their way. I called Detective Black, he’ll take this on as usual,” Arturo says.
Detective Black, one of our contacts within the force who is on our payroll. Knowing this part is handled I can now fully focus on Rina. I take her in my arms and at the same time Leandro comes rushing into the bathroom, cursing loud.
“Arturo, take Donya home.” I stalk closer to them. “Leandro, handle this mess. Black is coming and I’m taking my woman out of here.”
“Black is already here,” the detective says and glances over the scene. “What the hell happened?”
“I have no clue.” A sigh rips from my throat. “My woman’s guard was dead in her lap when I arrived. She’s in shock so I’m getting her out of here.”
He snaps his fingers in front of Rina’s face. “Dammit, you’re right. Are you sure you don’t want her checked out at the hospital?”
“No, I want her home. As far as I can see it’s just a flesh wound on her upper arm.
I’ll call the doc the second I get her in my car so he’ll be waiting at the house when I arrive.
But I’m sure she will come out of the mind loop she’s in any damn minute.
She’s strong but the guard was someone she grew up with.
It’s a massive impact to see your friend getting killed and everyone handles it differently. ” Black nods at my words.
“I’ll call you with an update when I’m done here,” Black says.
Now it’s my turn to nod. “Swing by tomorrow, we’ll talk things through and I’ll have your bonus waiting for you.”
We all head out and leave the detective to handle it while I take my woman home.
The second I have her safely in my car and I jump behind the wheel, she starts to come back to life.
Well, it seems that way because there are tears spilling over and her hands start to shake and fiddle.
I reach for her and lace our fingers, placing our joined hands on my thigh to comfort both me and her.
“He’s dead, Clemente.” The words are a torn whisper cutting straight through the air and into my heart.
“I know, mia cara.” My dear. The endearment automatically flows from my lips.
She stays silent for the rest of the ride and when we arrive at the mansion the doctor along with a few of my men are already waiting on me. I want nothing more than to take her into my arms and carry her into our home but she’s already out of the car and walking toward me with her head held high.
This woman. The trauma she just went through hit her hard and I’m sure the ride here just temporarily hit the pause in life to give her a moment to take a breath, but I know damn sure things will come back full force if she doesn’t take more than one damn moment to breathe.
I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her close, thankful she accepts my comfort and leans into me.
I’m pretty sure Arturo ordered the extra men for security.
Until we know what happened in that bathroom, we’re going to assume this was a direct hit on me.
I know I ordered the doctor over to check on Rina, but the ride home spiked the need inside me for a different approach.
“I’m going to take her upstairs and shower first. When we’re ready we’ll come downstairs so you can check her.” The doc is about to question my words and it makes me add, “If I find out she’s shot elsewhere or not coping I will come get you. For now she needs to catch her breath.”
His eyes slide to Rina but he accepts my words. “I’ll be just down the hall from you.”
The doctor has been on our payroll for years and was hired by my uncle.
He knows what to expect and to be available at any time, day or night.
Once I have her in the bedroom, I shrug out of my jacket and throw it on the bed.
Stepping toward her, I reach out to slide the spaghetti straps from her shoulders but she bats my hands away.
“I can take my own shower,” she snaps and starts to yank off the dress.
Anger is crackling around her and the effect is added with the fabric of her dress ripping from the force she’s using to get out of it. I leave her to it as she stalks into the bathroom. The water starts running and this is when I strip out of my own clothes and join her underneath the shower.
She shoots me an angry look. “I’m not going to slice my wrists or crash to the floor in tears, Clemente. I know I freaked out and made it seem I was going nuts with the whole withdrawing from everything. But I’m fine now. I can deal. I will deal.”
“Cut the defensive mode, Rina. No one can process what you went through for the first time without losing some of their sanity,” I simply say and grab the shower puff to add some of her jasmine and rose smelling shower cream on and start to caress her body.
It takes a while for her shoulders to stop tensing. There are no words, just the warmth of the water and the silent comfort I offer by just being near her. She suddenly turns and leans her forehead against my chest.
My arms automatically wrap around her. There’s nothing sexual about this—even if we’re both naked—it’s the closeness both of us crave to know we’re still here; alive and breathing.
Eventually I turn off the water and grab a fluffy, large towel to dry her body and wrap it around her. I grab another one to quickly dry myself off and take us into the bedroom. She mindlessly slides into a pair of flannel pajama pants and a tank top.
When she wants to put on her pajama top, I stop her. “Let me throw on some clothes and I’ll get the doc to check your flesh wound. It doesn’t look deep, but it needs some attention.”
She nods at my words and takes a seat on the bed as I rush to put on gray sweatpants and a white shirt. When I step into the hallway, the doc is already there—holding his bag—and he follows me back into the room.
He takes his time checking her over and eventually tends to the wound which is the only surface injury.
The dull look is back in her eyes and it rises a feeling of unease inside me, making me rub my knuckles over my sternum.
I hear the doc question if she would like something to help her sleep but she politely declines.