Deep (Pagano Family #4)(23)

She smiled and set a wooden spoon across the top of the pot. “Oh, honey. You’re awake. I’m so glad. Such a terrible night you had.” She came right up to Bev with her arms out—she wanted a hug.

Bev didn’t mind hugs at all, and in fact she could have used one, but at that moment, with her body feeling like it did, the mere thought made her stomach roll over. She backed up a couple of defensive steps.

The woman stopped short, her eyes widening as she realized. “Oh, right. I’m sorry.” She reached out instead and took Bev’s not-hurt arm and led her to a chair at the breakfast bar, which was the only dining setup in Nick’s apartment. His place was larger and nicer than hers, but in this, at least, their units were similar.

“Come sit down. I’m making a ziti for the boys, but that’s too heavy for you so soon after you’re up. Would you like an omelet? Ham and cheese?”

Bev might have laughed if her ribs would have allowed it. She would not have listed ‘ham and cheese omelet’ under ‘light breakfasts.’

“No, thanks—” Her voice failed her and she cleared her throat and then grunted with the pain of it.

“First things first. Let’s get you something for your pain. Nicky said only Tylenol this morning. Would you like it with coffee or juice? There’s grapefruit and tomato.”

“Coffee, please…”

The woman got the question implied in Bev’s tone. “Right! Betty! I’m Betty, Nicky’s—Nick’s—mother. He sent for me to come take care of you. And you’re Beverly.”

“Bev. Yes.” She was meeting his mother? What the hell?

“Bev? Okay, Bev. Coffee it is. And some Tylenol. And to eat?”

“I just have fruit and yogurt for breakfast.”

Betty scoffed. “Honey, that’s not breakfast. You need a good meal to start every day. I’ll make you some poached eggs on toast, how about that?” Without waiting for an answer, she went around the counter and fixed her a cup of coffee. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Both.”

Betty nodded and pushed a heavy mug of dark, strong-smelling coffee across the counter to her. Then she handed over a bottle of Tylenol, a sugar bowl, and a small glass of milk. “Sorry about the milk and the glass. He doesn’t have a creamer—or cream.”

“It’s okay. Thanks.” Milk was not her main concern. Her main concern was why she was only getting Tylenol when she knew damn well she had a prescription for Percocet, to be taken as needed, and she needed it. She also needed to talk to Nick, because people who actually cared about her were probably going nuts. But he wasn’t in the living room with the three men she didn’t recognize, none of whom were paying her any attention.

“Let me just get this ziti together and into the oven, and I’ll get your breakfast going.”

“Where’s Nick? I need to talk to him.”

Betty turned and pointed with her wooden spoon. “He’s in his office. I’m sure he’ll be out as soon as he can.”

Bev followed the direction indicated by the spoon, almost screaming when she tried to twist her body to look over her shoulder. The chair she was sitting on swiveled, thankfully, and she moved her whole body around instead.

The room with the glass wall. She saw him now, sitting at his desk, three more men in there with him.

Two of the men sitting in his living room were wearing jeans and hooded sweatshirts. The other wore a black and yellow tracksuit. The men sitting with Nick were dressed more formally, in khakis and button-down shirts, even on this Saturday.

Screwing up her courage and toughening up against her pain, Bev slid off the tall chair and headed for his office. Behind her Betty called, “Bev, wait,” but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the glass door and knocked.

All eyes in the room went to the door. Bev opened it, trying to ignore the way her hands shook and trying even harder to make sure her voice didn’t do the same. “Nick. Hi. Sorry to interrupt, but I need to talk to you.”

All the men—two of them older than Nick, one obviously younger—stared at her without speaking, and the scene was frozen so long that Bev began to worry that she was going to pass out from the combination of pain and tension. She kept her eyes on Nick; he looked nothing like the nice guy who’d called her bella and taken care of her last night. His piercing green eyes were cold as crystal. He was dressed more casually than the others in the room, in jeans and a grey pullover.

“We’ll finish later. Get your men on what we’ve talked about.” Nick’s voice was flat and low. His eyes hadn’t left hers.

One of the older men, with thickly curly, greying hair, turned back to Nick. “Boss, we’re not done here.”

“We are for now. Go.”

The three men got up and left. Bev stepped back to make room, and then she entered and closed the door.

Nick gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Sit.” She crossed the room and sat, easing herself into the chair.

“I need to call Chris and Sky and let them know I’m okay. They’ve got to be worried sick.” She wondered then, for the first time, whether she should bother calling her mother but decided that she didn’t need that stress today. Even if she knew Bev had been involved in what had happened last night, there was no guarantee she would have been particularly concerned. “And I need to find my purse, if I can.”