Page 51 of Hostile Love
“One more thing, Mat,” Tomás says when I go to leave. “We don’t need to kill each other for a fake crown. I’m the head of this family regardless. Every decision goes through me. I’m in charge and that won’t change anytime soon. But you…Dré…and Gio…you’re the reason I do it. And you three play your part too. Papá thought he’d created a replica version of himself in me. I let him believe that, when all this time I was protecting my family from him.” His eyes darken. “And no one will stop me.”
“Please use the hand sanitizer, sir,” the male nurse instructs. “It’s strictly one visitor only for now. His wife is with him. However, as you’re his brother, I’ll allow you thirty minutes.”
“Thanks.”
I use my elbow to depress gel into my palm and thoroughly clean my hands.
“Is he okay? I mean…will he get through this?”
“The surgery went well. We’ve kept him under sedation to prevent further trauma while he recovers. Tomorrow the doctor will consider reducing the dosage. We’ll know more then.”
“So, he’s not going to die?” I ask.
“I’ve seen guys shot fifteen times who’ve hobbled out of the hospital. Then there’s people who were shot once and didn’t make it. Every case is different, sir.”
Not wanting to talk anymore, I slide the door sideways and step onto a blue strip on the floor.
A clinical smell surrounds me and the constant beep from André’s heart monitor makes the rhythm of my pulse go faster.
Staring at my typically energetic brother, propped up on a high-tech wheeled bed with raised sides like a crib, and tubes fixed in his nostrils––it all hits me hard.
I’m used to seeing this larger-than-life guy strutting around in Gucci boxers or his favorite biker jacket. Sometimes, simply the two items as an outfit, depending on his mood, but this––he’s not a god, not today.
He’s just a man who needs a miracle.
“Matheus,” Sinéad’s voice slashes through my shock.
Suddenly, I’m staring at her pale-skinned face framed by long, loose raven strands. Toe to toe, she throws her arms around my middle and hugs me.
“God, Mat…it’s so good to see you.” After a silent second, she whispers, “We need to talk.”
I hug her back, needing someone to hold on to, but unable to take my eyes off André.
“I’m sorry, Sin. This is all my fault,” I mutter, letting anger strip my sadness, so my tone comes across emotionless. “I didn’t follow protocol and put everyone at risk because of it.”
Her head shakes and she lets go of me.
“Gio and I have spoken about your mission in Colombia and what happened afterwards. It doesn’t add up, Mat. What happened at the mansion is still a little blurry. What I do know is the bitch who shot Dré got inside our home too easily. That took planning and there’s no way those lower rank guys had theforesight or resources to infiltrate my security team so soon after your woman killed Eduardo.”
My woman…
“Please…don’t blame yourself. Okay?”
Sinéad takes my hand in hers and squeezes.
“There’s more to it. Bigger things are at play here.”
She glances over her shoulder, her tired, turquoise-colored eyes settling on her husband.
“You aren’t the only Souza who has enemies.”
Something dark slips over me, that deep need for justice rich in my blood.
“Do you have someone in mind, Sin?”
She releases my hand and slowly moves from the blue strip to the bright white section where the bed sits. Taking her time to sit in a comfy armchair at Dré’s bedside, her wince isn’t missed.
And then my heart burns.
