Page 132 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Heaven crying.

I betrayed her. And…I love her.

That knowledge is too much. Too big. What the fuck am I supposed to do with it?

“Is she okay?”

“You can see for yourself.” The doctor hesitates. “How’s your pain on a scale of one to ten?”

I almost laugh, but it seems like too much of an effort. I have so many questions about my brothers, Heaven’s family, and that fucking psycho, Dominguez. And yet, all I can think about is Heaven.

My wife. My failure.

“Like I was shot.” I flick a look at the doctor. “About an eight.”

She nods and writes something down on her electronic pad. “Nurses will be in for blood and shots soon. I’ve just adjusted the meds. If you feel loopy, that’s why. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah,” I say.

The doctor leaves and someone comes in. Awareness crackles in the antiseptic air, and a part of me tenses.

Heaven approaches the bed. Her green eyes are wild, her red hair a mess in a hasty ponytail, and there’s a smear of something on her face, like dirt, or…blood. She looks like she hasn’t slept in a week.

And she’s still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Her green eyes meet mine. Vulnerable, warm, hard, fierce. All of those emotions are there. Heaven’s brutal, ruthless. She’s tough as fucking nails and I suspect, as an unguarded expression flashes in her eyes, that I might be the most dangerous thing of all to her.

Not Dominguez and his threats. Me.

Because I think my wife loves me.

I don’t know if it’s a memory or a dream or imagination. But I feel like she told me that.

She can’t love me. Loving me will get her killed. She?—

“Matteo,” she says. “I took out Dominguez.”

For a moment I don’t know what to say. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, a girl can’t do that?”

“Christ,amore mio, no. I just… Heaven…”

“He shot my father—Dad will live, by the way—and he wanted to hurt and kill me. He also shot you. His people did. So I took that motherfucker out.” She says this like we’re discussing the weather. Like it’s nothing.

But one thing stands out. Me. She mentioned what happened to me as a catalyst.

“Everyone else?” I ask.

She steps close, right up to the bed, twisting her engagement ring and wedding band as she does so. Then Heaven drops her hands to her sides. “Everyone’s alive. Conor’s hurt, but it’s superficial. Your family is unscathed.” Heaven pauses. “You nearly died.”

I swallow. There’s a lump in my throat, hot and uncomfortable and a lot like the burn of tears. “Heaven?—”

“You fucking threw yourself in front of a bullet for me.”

“Yes.”

“You told me you loved me.”

I remember that. It’s etched into me. Down into my DNA. “Heaven.”

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