Page 131 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

We finally get to the hospital. I rush inside as Sergio leaves Conor with the ER nurse. My aunt’s still here so she can take care of that mess.

I need…I need…

I stop when I see Roman, Dante, and Matteo’s father seated in a corner. “Have you heard anything?”

Dante shakes his head, pushing back his longish, dark hair. “No.”

I meet the tired and drawn eyes of Paolo, who’s hunched over in the chair across from me, his head in his hands.

My father-in-law.

“He’s a good man,” he says to me in a thick Italian accent. “He was doing right by his family.”

“And wrong by mine,” I say in a low voice. “Byme.”

Paolo shrugs his shoulders. “When Matteo was younger, he suffered a lot of loss and it taught him plenty. I watched him become the man he is today, a strong, disciplined, and strategic thinker. I trust him and his decisions. We may not always agree on the ‘how,’ but we agree on the ‘what.’ Family and loyalty are most important. If you have those things, you can battle any enemy.” Paolo takes my hand in his. “And he needs an equally strong woman by his side.”

“He saved my life,” I say, my voice trembling. “After I’d overheard the whole plot this morning. He came after me…to protect me.”

“Because he loves you,” Paolo says. “I know you’re confused and you feel that he betrayed you, but he wants to make it right. Give him the chance to do what he vowed to do.”

I let out a deep sigh, but I don’t say the words in my head.

Love is love. But trust?

If he survives, can I trust him? Now that Dominguez is gone, I want Matteo to live. I love him. I can’t change that. But his love came in a hail of bullets. An act of selflessness, one that smacks of heroism, but not the long haul.

Will he still feel the same if he lives?

Will we ever find trust?

And will I ever have the chance to find out?

CHAPTER33

MATTEO

“Matteo?”

I’m floating in a sea of pain and I open my eyes. It’s white. Something is beeping and trying to move both hurts and pulls. There’s a woman with her hair pinned back and a stern, but professional, caring expression on her face.

“Yeah?” My mouth’s dry and she hands me a plastic cup with a straw.

“Good, you’re with it now. Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital. Where’s my wife? Heaven? Is she okay?” I try to get out of bed, but she stops me with one hand.

“We had to operate, but you’re on the mend. You can’t move just yet. Do you remember what happened?”

“I was shot.”

She nods and starts fiddling with the drip. “Your family’s here, and your wife is outside.”

Relief floods me, followed closely by trepidation. “She’s okay” is my first thought. It’s warm as it blooms through me. That’s all that matters. I thought…shit. I thought I’d been too late, that even when I made an effort—unlike with Joey—I’d failed.

Small pieces of memory fling themselves at me.

Shards. Like snapshots. The bright sky. Bullets. Heaven in the middle. Heaven looking at me, blotting out everything.

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