Chapter 55
Aldo
I can’t stop loving you. Can’t stop hoping. Layla’s voice drifted through my mind. Like a dream. And it must have been, because the real Layla never would have said something like that to me.
Her face blurred in front of my eyes. I hate you for making me love you.
Well, that was more like the Layla I knew. I winced—and pain shot through my body. Why was I in pain?
And for that matter, where was I?
A faint hum reached my ears. Followed by a distant beeping—like it was coming through a fog or a long distance. I tried to focus on that sound, like a lifeline to pull me through the fog.
It grew louder. Louder. Beep, beep, beep.
I love you, Aldo. And I think I always will. But I couldn’t see Layla’s face anymore. I blinked—and blinding white light filled my vision.
I blinked again, letting my eyes adjust to the light. The beeping grew louder, and when I tilted my gaze towards it, I realized it was coming from a monitor.
A heart monitor.
And said monitor was hooked up … to me. Just like the needle in my arm, leading up to an IV. Sudden panic spiked through me—and I forced it down before it could spike the monitor, too.
I was in the hospital.
Why was I … I dove back into my memories. Past Layla’s voice, past her face. To the hooded figure in the shadows, gun lifted—
I’d been shot. That’s why I was here.
You’re not dying on me, Vasco. Not here. Not now. Not. Like. This. Layla. Layla had saved me.
I’d almost died. And Layla had saved me.
I exhaled in a long, slow breath. The steady beeping of my heart monitor filled the otherwise silent white room.
My limbs felt too heavy. My brain foggy. But the gravity of what had happened didn’t escape me. I had almost died.
Layla had saved me.
The click of the door opening drew my attention to the far side of the room. A blonde woman slid through, and for one hopeful instant, I thought it was her.
“Ah, Mr. Marcello!” An unfamiliar woman in nurse’s scrubs smiled at me. “You’re awake.”
“Where’s Layla?” I asked, the words stumbling out of my mouth. “Dr. Bennett?”
“Oh, she’s gone home for the night. She told me to keep an eye on you though.” The nurse beamed, even as my heart fell.
But what had I expected? That she’d be by my bedside after what might have been hours of life-saving surgery?
I hate you for making me love you.
No, I shouldn’t be surprised she wasn’t here.
“She should be back in a few hours though,” the nurse continued, clearly unaware of my disappointment. “I’ll let her know you’re awake. I’m sure she’ll come visit right away.”
I drifted off before her claim could be confirmed.
When I woke again, Layla sat beside me.
My eyes fluttered, blinking back the harsh fluorescents, and there she was, crowned in light. My guardian angel.
As her face came into focus, the dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale skin. She looked tired—exhausted, actually.
Inside my battered chest, my heart seized, more painfully than my wound. “Layla.”
“Aldo,” she murmured, her mouth relaxing into the approximation of a smile. Her eyes found mine, held them. “How are you feeling?”
“Probably about as good as I look,” I admitted, wincing a little at the effort of speaking. “But I’m alive. And I think I owe Dottore Bennett a thank you for that.”
“You sure as shit do,” she said, half stern, half joking. Or at least, I thought. Her shoulders sagged suddenly. “You took a bullet for me. So I guess I owed you one.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I murmured, letting amusement override the pain. “And I’d do it again gladly.”
“Don’t joke about that,” Layla snapped, eyes narrowing with disapproval. “You—do you have any idea—” Her voice faltered, faded to a whisper. “I thought I’d lost you.”
The sudden vulnerability in her bowed shoulders, in those tired eyes, in every line of her face, startled me. I love you, Aldo. And I think I always will.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and it was like every ounce, every minute, of regret I’d ever felt poured into those two words. I was sorry … I was sorry for everything. I was sorry for every moment of the last eight years.
Layla turned away. Crossed her arms over her chest, like she was shielding herself from my words, or maybe my apology. My emotions. My own vulnerability.
“I can’t keep doing this, Aldo,” she murmured, her gaze still cast away. Without warning, she stood.
Her gaze found mine again. “You’re lucky to be alive. Don’t make me regret saving you.”
She left me with those words.
Carlo arrived moments after her departure. “Well, you’ve looked better.”
“Glad to see you, too,” I told him, even as a grin bloomed across my face. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”
“Worry will do that to you.” Carlo gave me a stern look that did little to hide the worry lines creasing his forehead and beside his eyes.
Pain shot through my side, but I wasn’t sure if it was from my wound, or a product of my own guilt.
Carlo slumped into the chair at my bedside. “We need to talk.”
“You know how much I love those words,” I sighed. But I knew exactly what he meant. As much as I’d been distracted by Layla, I had more important things to worry about. “The attacker.”
“He was ID’d—no gang or family affiliations. He was a payoff.”
“A mercenary.”
“Yep.” Carlo nodded, his face grim. “Someone paid him to come after you—someone who knew where you were going to be.”
My jaw tightened, mind raced. I was at the hospital regularly, but I wasn’t often in the break room—a space reserved for staff. But someone had known I would be there, meeting with the vendor.
A vendor who’d failed to show. But who in my inner circle had known about that meeting?
“Someone betrayed me,” I murmured. Someone I’d trusted. But … who? “We need to find out who.”
Carlo nodded grimly. “What’s the plan?”
My teeth clenched as an idea began to take shape in my mind. It was risky, maybe even stupid, but it might be the only way to expose the mole. “We’ll have to feed false information to my inner circle.”
“What?” Carlo startled up straight as a fence post. “How the hell—”
“We’ll tell everyone something different,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the decision. “And we’ll see where each piece of information ends up.”
Carlo stayed silent, pondering. But after a moment, he nodded. “It could work. But it’s a dangerous game, Aldo. It could destabilize the family …”
“I know the risks,” I said. “It won’t be permanent.”
Carlo studied me, his expression a mixture of respect and concern. “You’re putting a lot on the line.”
“Can you think of something better?” I asked. He was right. I hated this plan. It was risky at best, devastating at worst. “I need to find out who’s working against me.”
Carlo nodded.
Stood.
Walked from the room.
