Page 37 of Bad Medicine
“Excuse me? What the hell, Rocco?” Talk about burying the lead.
“I mean, she missed.” He said it like that was the only part that mattered.
“Okay, wait. Back up.” I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to focus my tired brain. “Let’s start from the beginning. Francesca’s cousin arrived yesterday.”
“Yup. Cute little thing, but a bit too wide-eyed, if you ask me.” He shook his head. “Chicks like that are always trouble.”
“And at what point did this wide-eyed girl decide it would be a good idea to shoot at Francesca?”
“Uh, I’d say sometime between when Frankie started making omelets and when the bacon finished crisping.” He grinned at me. “I’m a big fan of Frankie’s cooking. Enzo sure lucked the fuck out with that one.”
“I’m glad for you both,” I deadpanned. “Can we please get back to the matter at hand? The shooting. What happened?”
“Alright, alright, Doc. I got ya.” Turning onto the busy main road, Rocco was forced to slow down, growling under his breath when he was greeted with nothing but a string of taillights. “So, this chick shows up, acting all weird, talking about how she was just looking to come visit her cousin, right? And Francesca, she’s all for it because her own family in New York fuckin’ dumped her like a goddamn rock when her engagement party got busted up by the feds, okay?”
Rocco was so animated, telling the story with both hands, now that traffic was practically at a standstill. As for myself, I was staring at him, open-mouthed, as he rattled off a tale that was more suited to a daytime soap than someone’s actual life.
“I mean, it’s not like it was Frankie’s fault that her ex was an undercover fed. Like, how was she supposed to know? But her whole family ditched her anyway, so when her cousin shows, she’s happy as a clam. But then this morning, the little thing whips out a gun and starts rattling on about how they made her do it and she didn’t want to but she had no choice. I guess Frankie had almost talked her down, but Enzo had to go busting in and scared the shit outta the kid. She fired off one shot—wide—and then the whole story came out.”
I was riveted. This was absolute insanity.
“Turns out, Frankie’s gramps—he’s like, the big kahuna out there, right? But he’s in a coma right now, because someone shot him in the head.” Rock chuckled, like the whole thing was too funny. I was horrified. “So because he’s in a coma, her creepy jackass uncle is in charge, and he’s the one who’s been trying to bump off our girl.”
“Really? Francesca’s uncle? He’s been trying to kill her?”
“Looks like. So Enzo and her were gonna head to New York today to clear the whole thing up. I hadn’t heard from them all night, but I just figured they’d been busy bumping uglies, so they didn’t call.”
I wrinkled my nose, but said nothing.
Men really didn’t ever grow up.
“But Enzo did call,” I filled in. “And he’s not in New York at all.”
“No,” Rocco growled, his tone suddenly serious. “He’s not.”
We continued on in silence, both of us lost in thought as the car rumbled along the streets of Las Vegas. I knew getting involved with Frankie and her business was risky, but I was starting to see that things might be even worse than I had imagined.
Glancing over at Rocco as he drove, I took in his profile, the strong line of his jaw with its light dusting of stubble framing his mouth, the corners uncharacteristically turned down in a frown.
The Rock I was used to interacting with was a joker, someone who didn’t appear to take much of anything seriously if it didn’t result in him getting laid. This version of him was different, more domineering and intense, and I found the contrast between the two fascinating.
Rocco looked at me, meeting my eyes for a brief second, but said nothing, instead turning back to the front as we pulled into the parking lot of the club Enzo owned,Sin City.
Shutting off the engine, Rocco suddenly enveloped us in an oppressive silence, and I found I missed the low throbbing of the Chevelle’s engine. For a moment, neither of us moved, the interior of the car filled with an awkwardness that I hadn’t felt since high school.
I broke first.
“Listen, Rocco,” I said, and he let out a deep sigh. “About what happened earlier.” I swallowed, my mind replaying those few insane minutes in the hospital storage room for me against my will. It would be something I knew I would revisit many times, alone in my bed, but for now, I had to say something. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to Frankie.” Turning to look at me, I would have almost thought his expression was full of hurt, but I convinced myself that I was mistaken. “It’s just,” I pressed on, dropping my eyes to the white leather of the bench seat. “She’s my boss, in a way, and I’d hate to compromise my position at two jobs in one night, you know?” I followed it up with a weak laugh, attempting to add levity to my request, but it was no use. He saw right through me.
“Sure thing, Doc,” Rocco said, his voice low and emotionless. “I’ll be your dirty little secret. No problem.” Pulling the key out of the ignition, he shook his head slowly. “Wouldn’t want to sully your reputation by letting people know you’d gone slumming, right?”
“Rocco, that’s not—” But he’d already exited the car, slamming the door on my protest and stalking toward the back door to the club.
Suddenly feeling like a horrible person, I let out a breath of my own and followed him.
Chapter sixteen
Rocco
