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“It wasn’t your fault. Brooke told me what happened. Did you really marry a Mafia don?”
“He was only a capo.”
“Ohmigosh! It’s true?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What an asshole. I’ve read, like, two hundred Mafia romance novels, and at no point does the guy shoot at his wife. I told Brooke to go through my bookshelf and burn all those lies.” She turned to her bestie. “Did you do it?”
Brooke nodded. “In you parents’ yard. Elmira Fairbanks saw the flames and called the fire department.”
“Yikes. Hey, did they send any cute firefighters? Did you take pictures?”
“Uh, a couple? But they barely got out of the truck, and they were too busy laughing to pose for photos.”
“Never mind. They’re only second-rate heroes.” She turned back to me. “I heard you saw the top dude in the forest. The Bad Samaritan? What’s he like?”
“That part isn’t true.”
Brooke must have nudged Addy a little too hard, because Addy gasped.
“Sorry!” Brooke said. “I forgot.”
“How can you forget? When Blue visited earlier, she said I looked terrible.”
“She’s probably jealous because she only got shot in the arm.” Brooke glanced first at Deck and then at Nico. “Anyhow, we shouldn’t talk about the Bad Samaritan.”
“Why not? It’s not as if I’m saying anything bad. He’s a hero. If I had superpowers, I’d totally use them for good as well.”
Nico was stifling a smirk, and I knew why. He’d come face to face with the Bad Samaritan and lived to tell the tale, although he swore he hadn’t recognised the man. The only other person to have such a close encounter was my son. Matty seemed to recall blessedly little about that day, and I wasn’t going to stir up his memories with questions.
“Sometimes it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie,” I said.
“The Bad Samaritan isn’t a dog. He’s a wolf. Or possibly a lion. Or both? Do you ever read shifter romance? There’s this book where the hero turns into a lion-wolf hybrid and protects the heroine from this crazy-ass cage fighter who won her as a prize. Brooke, you didn’t burn that one, did you?”
“I don’t think so?”
“It had a hot shirtless guy on the cover.”
“Nearly all of your books have hot, shirtless guys on the cover.”
“This one has a wolf-lion tattoo. I’ll find it when I get home.” Her smile faltered. “Although that could be a while. The doctors say I’ll be here for weeks.”
“Whatever help you need, I’ll make sure you get it,” Nico said.
“What if I need a sexy butler to bring me snacks?”
“Then I’ll hire you a sexy butler. There must be an agency for that sort of thing.”
“Okay, maybe getting shot wasn’t so bad. I just wish it hurt less. Do you think I can get some more pain pills?”
“I’ll ask the nurse.”
When the nurse came, she gave Addy medication, but she also kicked the rest of us out. Ms. Crowe needed to rest, she said. Trauma took time to heal.
Addy didn’t bear me a grudge, and Brooke said Luca and Aaron would come around in time. It had been a shock, that was all. And Brooke still blamed herself for Cesare finding me in Baldwin’s Shore in the first place, even though Nico and I both assured her that it hadn’t been her fault.
I felt like a hypocrite telling her she needed to tamp down the guilt and move on when I knew I never could. The Cavallaro family still wanted me dead. I’d spent the last two days researching potential new homes, new places to run, new places to hide. I’d ruled out mainland Europe because I wouldn’t feel safe anywhere in easy reach of Italy, Nico didn’t want to be near Russia, and anywhere with political instability was also in the “nope” column. We’d considered England, but the Cavallaros would expect that, seeing as Nico had a home there. Canada was a possibility, as was the Caribbean. Colt had suggested Valetia, and Australia and New Zealand had made the shortlist too.
