That can’t be right.
“Ricardo?”
“I’ve been so worried about you.” He patted my shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you to open those pretty eyes of yours.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Keeping you company.”
“How did you get here?” How long had I been out?
“Marchello sent for me.” He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the nightstand. “You must be parched.”
“I am.” I pushed up against the mattress, wincing as I went.
“Are you okay?” The panic in his voice startled me.
“I was shot.”
More mumbling in Italian.
I took the glass from him. “I’m fine. Just a little stiff. Don’t look so worried.”
“I don’t just look worried. I am worried.”
“Is that why you thanked the patron saint of lost causes?”
“Hmm…” he said. “I forgot you speak Italian.”
“Which one of us is lost?” I asked.
“We’ll discuss it another time.”
I glanced around the quiet and empty room.
“Marchello will be right back,” Ricardo said, sensing who I searched for. “He was with you all night, but Milo convinced him to shower and get a cup of coffee.”
“Oh, that’s good.” I sipped the water. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“As soon as I got the call, I went to the airstrip. Milo had a jet waiting for me.”
“I’ve missed you.” I reached for his hand and studied his face. The bruises had faded, but I imagined how horrible they must have been when they were fresh. “I’ve wanted to see you. I wanted to apologize for what happened. I’m sorry I put you in such a poor position.”
“Whatever happened I deserved.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because I shouldn’t have let what happened to you happen.” He took the water glass from me and set it on the nightstand. “You could have been killed. I deserved far worse than what Marchello did to me.”
“No, you didn’t.” I patted the edge of the bed. “Sit with me.”
When he sat by my feet and smiled, I realized how much I had missed my teddy bear of a friend.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Not too bad for being shot.” I shrugged. “I guess it wasn’t that bad.”
“The bullet grazed your hip.”