Page 93 of Her Guardian
“I hope so,” she sighs. “Because I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”
That goes both ways. I’ve fallen and I’ve fallen hard. This beautiful woman in my arms iseverythingto me.
But things aren’t going to get any easier from here.
As soon as we find these fuckers, the Morandi family is going to war.
CHAPTER 35
Sarah
It’s been several days since I brought Boyd home.
He’s currently sleeping on the couch, again. The pills are strong, but they need to be. I’ve changed his bandage twice, and the while the wounds on his leg are healing, they still make me shudder every time I see them.
Boyd’s uncle stopped by yesterday. A few members of the Morandi family were here earlier. They wanted to stay longer, but I put my foot down, because Boyd needs his rest. Never imagined I’d be the girl standing up to members of the Mafia. But I’d do anything for Boyd. I love him.
The Morandi family is still searching for Solitude and the members of the Bratva that are in Las Vegas. Lea has given me a few updates. Cadence filled me in on what she’s working on for Massimo and Dante. The rest of the details, I’ve gotten from Boyd. I’m not as eager for them to find the killers now. Because as soon as they do, Big Mafia Boyd is going to do everything his power to get off that couch so he can go after them.
“What was I even doing here?” I mutter, looking over the notes I’ve been working on for my next podcast.
I haven’t given up my podcast entirely, but I haven’t recorded one since Boyd got hurt. The news has broken about Solitude and the Bratva. Arthur Dykstra’s attorneys are trying to get his conviction overturned, but they’re still facing some resistance. It’s only a matter of time, because of the evidence that got suppressed from Chicago. The district attorney in New York just isn’t making it easy, because it reflects poorly on his office.
Truthfully, there’s no evidence that says Arthur Dykstra wasn’t working with Solitude and the Bratva, but I’m leaning toward the theory he was framed. He has a military background, and his pregnant wife was caught in the crossfire during a Mafia hit, so he has plenty of motive. He still hasn’t released a public statement or offered anything in his defense. Most people who have followed the story think it’s because Solitude has something on him.
Public sentiment has shifted. Now that it’s not a single vigilante taking down crime bosses, the story isn’t as interesting. It’s just a bunch of Russian hackers and the criminals, waging war in order to seize more power and territory. They’ve already done that in Chicago, New York, and New Jersey. But instead of just being opportunists, like everyone assumed, they’re actually behind it.
“Alright, I’ll just go live and share what the Morandi family is okay with me talking about,” I sigh. “Won’t be much excitement in my voice this time, though.”
Before Boyd finally fell asleep, I promised him I’d do another podcast today. It seems like he’s more invested in it than I am right now. My life just feels like it’s been turned upside down. I came to Las Vegas to win some money counting cards, cash inmy personal favor to get stories for my podcast, and hurry back to Pine Grove with all sorts of new, juicy content.
But I’m not going home. Not anytime soon. And even then, I won’t be staying in Pine Grove. My future is here, with Boyd. I told my mom about him, but I didn’t tell her much. Just enough for her to tell me I’ve lost my mind, which… yeah. She’s right.
“Hi, everyone, I know it’s been a while since you’ve heard from me, and I apologize, but I’ve been busy!” I say, drumming up as much excitement as I can muster. “And I’m not the only one! I’m sure you’ve seen the stories on the news, but I’ll give you my take on the newest revelations. The Mafia Prince Killer is… not just one man!”
I watch the number of listeners grow as I continue to ramble on. I don’t have any explosive exclusives, but I broke them early on during the rampage in Las Vegas, so people are tuning in. I share a few pieces of information other podcasters don’t have, but I know a lot more than I tell my listeners.
I don’t turn it into a long podcast. I don’t have the mental energy for it. I recap everything, give my take, go through my notes, and wrap it up like I always do.
“If you enjoyed this update, make sure you tune in next time!” I keep the excitement in my voice, even though my enthusiasm has waned. “That’s all for this episode. As always, I’m your host Sarah Parker and these have been… yourTrue Crime Minutes!”
I end the podcast, reach for my vape, and lean back in my chair.
“There. I did a fucking podcast,” I mutter to nobody in particular, since he’s passed out. “Happy, Boyd?”
“Yep,” he grunts, and I sit up immediately, because I thought he was still sleeping.
“Shit, do you need something?” I rush to his side. “I didn’t have to finish the podcast. You could have told me you were awake.”
“Nah, I liked listening to it,” he groans, leaning down to check his bandages. “But these need to be changed again.”
“Yep, they sure do,” I say, hurrying to retrieve the medical supplies.
I bring everything over, kneel by the couch, and grimace when I peel the bandages back. The wounds appear to be healing the way they should, but they still don’t look great. The doctor came by yesterday and didn’t seem concerned. He thinks Boyd may be back on his feet in a few days, but I’m not letting him leave this condo until he’s fully healed.
I carefully remove the bandages, clean his wounds, apply more antibiotic cream, and wrap fresh gauze around his leg. The stitches aren’t bleeding anymore and don’t look infected, so that’s a positive sign. I’m sure they still hurt, though.
“Okay, all done,” I say, gathering everything up.
