Chapter 89

Layla

Exhaustion dragged at my limbs as I slipped through the back door of the hospital and into the expansive parking lot.

The cool night air carried the faint sounds of the city—a distant siren, the hum of cars on the main road, a perpetual vibration of laughter and shouts and voices. A music all its own.

Street lamps left pools of yellowy light against the cracked black tar, threw metallic glints off the few cars remaining. The sun had long since slipped from the sky, leaving the city all but plunged in darkness.

Another end to another long, grueling day.

Patient after patient, coupled with the weight of my own thoughts, had left me drained. The endless moral war inside my soul seemed to take more and more of a toll each day. There was nothing I wanted more than to crawl into bed and curl beneath the blankets, tuck myself into Aldo’s side.

I almost purred at the thought, except my thoughts quickly strayed elsewhere. To the places they’d spent far, far too much time lately. Asking the same questions, over and over.

How could I spend my days saving lives—so the other half of my identity could take them? Could I really be a doctor and the wife of a crime boss? How could I ever reconcile those two pieces of myself?

I was so lost in my own thoughts, it took a moment to register the hurried patter of footsteps. My brain registered them—but distantly. It was the muffled cry that truly drew me back down to Earth.

I stopped in my tracks. Heart racing. Every muscle suddenly tensed for readiness, every sense on high alert. I turned. Slowly. Scanning.

Nothing. Nothing out of place or out of the ordinary.

No—there!

Movement!

I kept my eyes on the shifting shadows as I slipped sideways out of the glare of a streetlight and into darkness. At the far end of the lot, a woman struggled as a man pinned her against a car, his hand around her throat.

Her muffled screams barely escaped his grip, and her far smaller form bucked against his clear strength.

My training kicked in before my fear could settle.

I dropped my bag. Moved in quick, purposeful strides. My shoes made no sound against the pavement.

The man’s back was to me, and he was so focused on restraining his victim, he was oblivious of my approach. Oblivious to me sizing him up in the darkness as I drew ever nearer.

Oblivious to a predator stalking prey.

My trained eyes sussed out his weaknesses along with his strengths—big, but his size made him confident. Broad, but unbalanced. Focused, but on the wrong thing. His stance was off, and his grip on the woman, though forceful, was not unbreakable.

I didn’t hesitate.

I darted in, grabbed the man’s shoulder, and yanked him back. He stumbled, his grip on the woman loosening just enough for me to drive my knee up into the side of his ribs.

He staggered under the force of the blow, mouth gaped in pain.

Behind his bowed form, the woman scrambled backwards. Her feet collapsed out from under her, tumbling her to the pavement. Rendering her helpless on the sidewalk.

I darted to position myself between the attacker and his victim. Kept my eyes on him as I spoke. “Get lost, or I hit you again.”

The man’s eyes flashed with rage as he straightened, assessing me for the first time. “You just made a big mistake, lady.”

I didn’t flinch. “So did you.”

He lunged.

I sidestepped on instinct. My arm swung up to block his own swinging blow, and my other countered with a sharp jab to his solar plexus.

He gagged, stumbled back, gasping airlessly.

“Walk away,” I warned, my voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. My whole body felt electrified, buzzing.

Alive.

Like I was born to fucking do this, to be this. To stand tall and proud and strong.

The man hesitated, clearly debating whether the fight was worth whatever he’d wanted from the other women. The conflict showed clearly in his eyes—survival versus desire.

He spat at the ground and scowled. “Crazy bitch.”

One more moment’s hesitation … Then, he turned and ran.

I remained in place, muscles still coiled, breathing controlled. Heartbeat steady.

Only when I was certain he wasn’t coming back did I turn to the woman, still trembling on the ground behind me.

“Are you okay?” I crouched beside her.

She was young, perhaps somewhere near my age—early thirties or so. Long brown hair had escaped from her ponytail, and splotches of blood plastered it to her cheeks and forehead.

“I—I think so?” her voice escaped in a squeak. Beneath the mess of hair and blood, her features were fine, pretty.

My stomach churned. I could only imagine what the man had been after.

I couldn’t tell where the blood was coming from, but it had to be hers. Which meant, I had to get her into the hospital for closer examination. “Did you know him?”

The woman shook her head quickly. “No. He grabbed me when I was walking to my car. I—I didn’t know what to do. If you hadn’t—”

Tears welled in her eyes, and I reached for her hand. Squeezed. “It’s okay, don’t think about that. You’re safe now. And you’re right outside a hospital—”

The woman wrenched out of my grasp. “No! No hospitals.”

“What?” I startled at her sudden vehemence, the wild look in her eyes. “Why not? You’re hurt—”

“No insurance,” she murmured, eyes still too wide, too wild. “No money.”

I read more behind the words, but I couldn’t argue with a frightened stranger. A sudden idea came to me. One that could definitely lose me my job and my license, if I wasn’t careful.

Luckily, my husband owned the hospital, as well as a lot of other places throughout the city.

“I’m a doctor. And I know of a … special charity clinic.” It was a lie—for now.

But why shouldn’t there be a clinic for just such occasions? If the Marcellos were so intent on marking our money in shadowed corners, maybe we could shine a little light in other dark places.

“A clinic?”

“For people like you,” I said, reaching for her hand again. Gently, I pulled her to her feet. “Let me bring you there. Let me help you.”

“You’ve already helped me.” She murmured the words to our feet.

“Please,” I said. “Let me do this for you.”

Her eyes came up to study me, like she was searching out some signs of deception. I responded with my most earnest smile, and at long last, she nodded. “All right.”

It was only once we reached my parked car that I felt the air return to my lungs.

Only once we got out onto the open road that the weight of what I’d done hit me.

I’d reacted on instinct—without fear or hesitation. I’d taken down a man twice my size without sustaining any damage. I’d saved a woman’s life, not with my medical training, but with skills I’d learned in my other life. My shadow life.

The Mafia took so many lives. Destroyed so many families. And yet, on this night … it had saved one.

“Where is this clinic?” The woman’s small voice jarred me out of my thoughts, back to the road in front of me. I’d been driving on autopilot, wending my way through the city to the place I knew nobody would think to look.

I turned into the underground parking lot of a condo building.

“In the basement,” I said, because that’s where this particular safehouse’s medical clinic was located. “The hospital would have a damn kitten—and probably revoke my license—if they knew I was treating patients for free.”

The woman giggled nervously as she followed me out of the car.