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Pop nods. “You’re right about that. We’ll plug our leaks.”
He’s about to say more when Lorenzo comes running into the dining room.
“We gotta go, Less,” he says in a panic.
My father doesn’t say anything, simply nodding for me to go. I snap the ring box shut, shoving it in my pocket, and head out the door. Lorenzo’s already in the car with the engine running by the time I hop into the front seat.
“What’s wrong, Ren?”
“It’s Evelyn,” he says. “She just called from the hospital. They got into a car accident.”
“Just go! I want to hear it from her,” I tell him, and he peels out of the parking spot into the street. By the time we get to Brooklyn, nearly an hour’s gone by after fighting rush hour traffic. Lorenzo stays in the car since parking is shit around Downtown Brooklyn, and I run into the ER.
A series of beeps, people talking, nurses shouting, and smells of cleanser and illness swarm me all at the same time. My pulse beats louder and louder by the minute as I head toward the check-in desk where a nurse sits behind a computer, talking on the phone.
I have to keep my composure because last time I came to a hospital with this much excitement, I ended up fighting an orderly. Still, I want her to hurry up as if Evelyn is different from every other patient who comes into this place. She is to me.
“I need to find my wife,” I blurt out to the woman.
She raises her eyes and stares at me a moment before tipping her head to the side. Covering the phone’s receiver with her hand, she squints and says, “Are you a friend of Fredo Smith?”
Fucking Dimitri’s imaginary friend to keep people away from him at Kings.
“I’m Mr. Vassa’s attorney. If you know Fredo Smith, then you’ve been to Kings. Please, my wife was in an accident. I need to see her. Member to member favor?”
“Oh, I was just a guest, but I remember you from the other day. I was in there with my girlfriends.”
I cut her off, slamming my hands on the desk. “I need to know what room Evelyn De Luca is in.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine, give me a sec. Sorry, there’s no Evelyn De Luca on my list.”
I pause, regaining my composure. “Check Evelyn Rossi, please. We were just married last week and her name change hasn’t gone through yet.”
“Oh, yes, right here. She’s in Room 110. Go down that hall to the left, and it’s the third door on your right.”
“Thank you, and if a tall guy who looks like Ken as a G.I. Joe comes in, send him to the room too. Name’s Lorenzo Portero.”
“Already on the list, Mr. De Luca.”
I take off before she can finish irritating me and head toward the room, dodging nurses, doctors, and patients along the way. When I walk inside, my heart pounds as the sounds of a beeping monitor fill the room. A hideous pink curtain separates one bed from the other. With the first one empty, I fear the worst. Uncertain of who’s there, whether there’s danger from everything that’s been happening, I pull out my knife.
When I slide the curtain back, to my sickening relief, it’s Jenkins. A door opens behind me, and Evelyn walks out to see me standing beside her bodyguard, knife in hand.
“Alessandro, what the hell?”
Slipping the blade back in place, I rush over to her, taking her face into my hands and kissing her. My tongue tastes hers, my body craving the way she reacts to me. Finally, I pull away.
“Mio dolce, what happened?”
She nudges her chin toward Jenkins. “We were followed, and the fucker sent us skidding into a fucking divider under the BQE. I don’t want to stay here, Alessandro.”
“I don’t want you to stay, either. We need to get him out of here, too.”
She shakes her head with tears welling in her eyes. “He needs surgery. He’s got a broken arm, ribs, and the force of the crash crushed something inside. His spleen or something.”
“What about you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, babe, I swear. Just a bump on the head,” she says, moving her hair out of the way. “I turned to look at Jenkins as we slammed to a stop, and the air bag got me.”
