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But since I'd decided not to kill her just yet, and to give her a week or so to see if she could live up to her promises, there wasn't any point in scaring her now. That could come later. It always did. No matter how driven a woman was to get close to me, or how far they thought they'd climb socially by being with me, there was always a moment when their mask would slip, and I'd see their fear.
I didn’t have time to play those games with Charlotte Burke right now, and besides, her courage upstairs had been such a fucking turn-on. I didn’t want to ruin it already.
We reached the cell at the end, which we’d set up with a hospital bed and a cabinet of supplies. A man sat in the middle of the bed. His name was Angelo, and he was one of the longest serving made men in the family. He groaned as he held his face in one hand, a bottle of liquor in the other. The smell of metal and booze was thick in the air.
“Renato! They just came out of nowhere. Castillos, right there at the diner. They jumped me, but I got a few good hits in,” the older man panted.
I liked Angelo, as much as I liked anyone who wasn’t blood. He was a good man and a loyal soldier.
I clamped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Bravo. You protected our name well. Let the nurse see your face. We don’t want to let it become uglier, for your wife’s sake.”
He chuckled at my teasing and relaxed a little, looking at Charlotte. She stood rooted to the spot, staring at him.
“Come on, Miss Burke, this is your chance to shine. Show me what you’ve got.”
“I’m just a student. I’ve never done anything like this without supervision,” she hedged.
“I’ll supervise you, how’s that?” I offered.
She shot me an annoyed glance, a flash of her true feelings.
“I might mess it up,” she said flatly.
“While I’m sure your confidence is really setting the patient at ease, don’t worry about it. There’ll be no complaints here to the hospital board. If you weren’t here, we’d duct tape it closed until our family doc comes out tomorrow. You can’t do worse than that,” I pointed out. “Stop the bleeding and get a move on.”
I settled against a nearby wall and watched her. Her hands curled into little fists and then released. I wondered if it pissed her off to be ordered around. It would be more fun if it did. Maybe that way, I’d get to see more of those fiery sparks she’d shot at me earlier; little glimpses of her true self.
Instead of arguing, she took off her leather jacket. The emblem of La Leonora, my favorite of my casinos, winked at me as she rolled up her sleeves and doused her hands with sanitizer. This woman had been right under my nose, and I’d never seen her before. I’d remember her. I was sure of that.
“Good girl,” I murmured.
She scowled at me, and the look was an aphrodisiac. This woman was more than fiery, she was the entire bonfire. And I liked it, I realized dimly as I watched her prepare her workspace. She was the most interesting person I’d met in a very long time. I settled back to enjoy observing her.
“First of all, no drinking. It makes the bleeding worse,” she said firmly, prying the bottle of hooch away from Angelo. She ignored his protests and started to clean the long slash on his face.
He hissed when the cotton ball touched the cut.
“This might sting,” she said after a long pause.
“Bit late for the warning, Doc,” Angelo grumbled.
“Yeah, well, ask for forgiveness, not permission,” she muttered, her eyes lifting and catching mine for a moment before shooting away.
I wondered if she was half as affected by my presence as I was by hers. No, I doubted it. I was the one living in monochrome, not her. The one whose world had become unbearably dull.
After one last dab with the cotton ball, she straightened and looked at Angelo. “I have to stitch your cut now. It’s going to hurt, and I’m sorry,” she said evenly.
Angelo sighed, resigned, but obligingly held still. After a moment, he spoke. “You’re right, it’s worse to be warned, but I can take it.”
I shifted, wishing they would finish up and I could have Charlotte’s undivided attention again. “Of course, you can,” I said. “You have no choice,” I added, more for her sake than Angelo’s.
Her mouth formed a firm line, and she focused on her task. Painful moments ticked by, and then, suddenly she was done. I moved closer to take stock of her handiwork. It was lovely. Just as neat and tidy as if it had been done by a surgeon.
“Leave us,” I tossed to Angelo, who thanked Charlotte profusely and made for the door, swiping the bottle on his way past.
“So, what else do I need to do to prove to you that I’ll keep my word? You really didn’t have to bring me to this kind of place to make your point.” She had her arms folded, like that fragile barrier of bone and flesh could keep me from her.
“This kind of place? This is my home,” I added.
