Unraveled (Guzzi Duet Book 1)(45)

“Very little. I was turned for Cara, I had the door opened for her. I wasn’t watching the street—I didn’t have any reason to think I should. The bullets started flying, and I was focused on getting her out of the way, that was it. By the time I got back up, my throat was bleeding all over the damn place and the car was gone. She couldn’t tell me anything when I asked, it was like she wasn’t even on the same planet, all of the sudden. Shock, maybe.”

Maybe.

Or maybe it was something else, too.

“So, basically, you’ve got nothing to help me?”

Chris shrugged, though the action looked painful. “It happened fast. I did my job. There’s nothing else to say.”

Gian nodded once. “Merci.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you when you’re not in a hospital bed,” Gian said before he slipped out of the room.

Outside in the hallway, Gian found the group of men had moved farther down from the door and away from the nurse station. Their conversation, however, was still being held at a level that he could plainly hear.

And it did not please him.

“So he was what, picking up the Rossi chick when it happened?” one of the Capos asked.

A solider nodded. “Guess so. Maybe that’s where Gian’s head has been lately—on her, you know.”

The men didn’t notice that Gian had left the room, nor that he was standing there listening to their conversation a few feet away. He didn’t let them in on his presence, either.

“I heard some whispers about that,” another Capo said. “He’s found himself a distraction, not that I blame him … considering everything.”

“Just call her what she is,” Constantino said. “Don’t dance around it like stupid fucks.”

When had Constantino showed up?

He hadn’t been there before Gian entered the enforcer’s room.

“Is that what you would call her, then?”

Constantino—Gian’s oldest and closest friend—nodded. “Sure, I would. What does it matter? It’s better that everyone else knows. Those type come second, anyway. Even Gian knows it, too. Why do you think he’s running around with her on the low, not shouting it from the rooftops like someone else might? Cara’s a fucking catch, don’t get me wrong. She’s an awesome girl—my cousin, too, so I can say that and know it’s true. But to Gian?”

Gian took the few steps that separated him and the group of men, shouldering one aside as he came face to face and toe to toe with Constantino. His friend didn’t even look surprised to see him standing there all of the sudden.

“Say it,” Gian dared his friend. “Say what you were going to say, cafone.”

Constantino didn’t blink. “We don’t have time right now to be running around after your flavor of the month, man, worrying about who might be coming after her next. It’s not an important detail, and somebody probably did this shit today to get your attention, since you’re too busy to pay attention to what actually needs it right now. She’s just a go—”

He didn’t even get to finish his statement.

Gian’s fist slammed into Constantino’s jaw, shutting the man up, making him bleed, and sending him to the floor instantly.

Made men didn’t fight. They sure as hell didn’t hit other made men. It was a rule. Gian was learning there were some rules that needed to fucking go.

That was one of them.

Gian looked down at Constantino, not bothering to offer his hand to help his friend back up off the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking disrespect Cara Rossi again. Not to my face, or behind my back. Don’t shout it, and don’t even whisper it. If it happens again, Constantino, I will sew your eyes together, burn your fucking ears off, and cut your tongue out. Maybe then, everyone else will understand what see no evil, hear no evil, and speak no evil really means to men like me. Maybe then, they might understand that a woman is worth far more than the title a man puts on her status. Test me, and watch what happens. Speak ill of her again, and I will slaughter you, friend or not.”

He didn’t bother to wait around and hear what was going to be said next. He had far more important things to do.

Like a woman in the unit upstairs waiting on him.

Cara needed a ride home. Happy fucking birthday to her, he thought miserably. This was not how the weekend was supposed to be. They should have been in Quebec already—hours ago, actually—watching a ballet together.

An apology was not going to make this better.

Of that, Gian was most sure.





Cara said nothing, her gaze lowered to the tiled floor of her bathroom as Gian carefully removed her white tweed coat and set it aside. The front of the beautiful dress that had been one of her birthday gifts was stained a reddish brown—Chris’s blood, likely.

She had suffered no open injuries, thankfully.

When Cara did finally speak, her dull tone took Gian off guard. Other than her soft greeting at the hospital when he walked into her room, she had said nothing the entire time it’d taken to get her out, and get her home.

He was not accustomed to this steel-spine, sharp-tongued woman being so … quiet.

“Please don’t say you’ll buy a new dress to replace this one,” Cara said.