Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75683 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Then I was making my way to the candy shop when I realized it wasn’t the right option.
No.
I mean, maybe Savannah enjoyed chocolate. I didn’t know many women who didn’t. But what I felt made more sense for her was one of those fruit bouquet things.
Decision made, I got one of those ordered before finally making my way back to Famiglia to talk to Luca and the others, going over what the police had to say.
Namely, that no one got a good view of the shooters.
Two white guys. About five-ten. Average build.
Like that didn’t describe half of the men in New Jersey.
“The Brunch Bar doesn’t have security cameras,” my brother, Dante, explained.
“You’re shitting me,” I said, shaking my head. Two attractive women working alone with no security cameras?
“I know,” he said, shrugging. “And the one on the general store next door hasn’t worked in months, according to the guy working there.”
Damnit.
“We’re still working on compiling a list of anyone who might have a cross to bear with us,” Luca said. “But things have been relatively calm lately.”
“Is there anyone from any of your past jobs who might want to take you out?” Lucky asked, looking at me.
“Not anyone who jumps to the front of my mind,” I admitted. “But I will give it some thought tonight. Maybe come up with my own list to look into.”
“Lettie just texted,” Michael said, referring to a cousin who had dropped out of medical school right before graduation, but had put all her skills to use creating her very own illegal hospital and ambulance service that catered to, well, the kinds of people who didn’t want to have to go to the hospital and have the cops asking how they’d gotten themselves shot or stabbed.
“What’d she have to say?” Luca asked.
“She said she talked to a friend she has at the hospital, and that Savannah is stable and has been moved up to a floor. Likely just for a couple of days before they let her go home.”
Stable.
That was good.
I didn’t think the shoulder was all that serious, but shots to the abdominal area could be deadly.
I would sleep better knowing she was okay.
I mean, not that I slept at all.
I’d tossed and turned, replaying the events of that morning over and over around in my head, seeing all the ways I’d fucked up.
Like sitting with my back to the door.
I was never that stupid.
And I’d only done it because my fucking libido had me wanting to eye-fuck Savannah.
In doing so, I’d put both of our lives at risk.
It was never going to happen again.
And whether she or her mom liked it or not, I was going to have someone install a security system at their restaurant. Hell, I’d do it my fucking self.
Smush was right.
I owed her my life.
I was going to spend the rest of mine showing her how much I appreciated that.
CHAPTER FOUR
Savannah
It was the low voices that eventually stirred me from my drug-induced rest. Which was no easy task, I might add. It felt like trying to surface when you were chained underwater. You could see the sky, but getting there just took a lot of effort.
“There’s my girl,” my mom greeted me as my eyelids fluttered open, wincing a bit at the bright light streaming in the windows. Her hands were already wrapped around mine, giving them a hard squeeze. “You took quite the nap there, my darling,” she told me.
“Drugs,” I said.
“What kind do you want?” she teased, eyes sparkling. “A little weed? Some mushrooms?” she went on until she had my lips twitching.
“No, the drugs made me sleep,” I told her, slow blinking around the room.
There wasn’t much to note. It was all linoleum floors and muted colors. Sterile and uninviting. Save for the potted plant sitting by the window.
“They have them in the gift shop,” my mom informed me. “I went down to grab some coffee. Awful, by the way, a sin, truly,” she told me. “And I saw it. I thought you had to have something living in this room. It’s not good to have everything feel so… cold,” she decided.
It was cold, too.
Freezing.
Why did hospitals always run so cold? When all they supplied were flimsy, scratchy blankets?
“It’s healthy for a gift shop plant,” I said, looking over at the Baltic Blue Pothos with its little split leaves.
“It helps that they thrive on a smidgen of neglect,” she agreed. “How are you, baby?” she asked, reaching up to swipe some of my hair out of my face. They must have removed my high pigtails because I didn’t feel the tightness in my scalp I’d expected for having them in for so long.
“I’m okay,” I told her.
There was pain clawing its way through whatever opioids were still swirling through my system, but I didn’t want to ask for more meds right away. I wanted to be conscious for at least a little while.