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“Leave it,” Giovanni murmured.
But Enzo wasn’t done. “You have a name, doll?”
She turned away.
Enzo’s hand reached out, blocking her path toward Luka’s room. “Hey now, you’re practically under our protection if you keep living here. Is a name so difficult?”
She swallowed, wondering if her hesitation only made it worse. “Alina,” she mumbled.
Cold, blue eyes latched onto her. “Alina Lipin?” Giovanni asked, emotion filling his tone for once. Too bad it was surprised recognition.
Enzo’s hand dropped as he laughed. “Well, how about that? Word was you died with your father.”
Alina wondered if a life spent beaten because of her name was better than the lie. Her nails pressed into her thigh, the pain reminding her that she still clung to life.
“Damn, this might be a mess if anyone finds out she’s here. Gio, maybe—”
“I said leave it,” Giovanni interrupted Enzo. He moved past them to peer back into the bedroom. “What did the doctor say?”
Enzo sighed, but his smile didn’t drop. “Right. All his insides were where they’re supposed to be, and nothing appeared to be nicked. He stitched him up and gave him something to fight off infection. If none sets in, he should pull through fine. Oh, and his arm was dislocated, not broken.” He dipped his head, trying to look in Alina’s face. “You sticking around to play nursemaid?”
She raised her chin. “Yes.”
He nodded. “It’s all about changing his bandages regularly and giving him the antibiotics the doc left. Knowing the kid, he’ll likely try to move around too early and open the wound again. If that happens, think you can stitch him up?”
Alina knew how to sew. The thought of pressing the needle through skin instead of cloth made her own stomach feel like it had been pricked. “I can do what’s needed.” That was what life was about, anyway.
Enzo motioned Giovanni out of the way. “Let me show her where the stuff is.”
It didn’t take long. Giovanni wasn’t looking her way or at Luka when it was over, but staring blankly down the hallway.
“I’ll try to keep an eye out every now and then, like I’ve been doing,” Enzo finished. He patted Luka’s foot, still encased in his shoe. “Don’t stress too much. This one is a survivor.” The two Italians had similar blue eyes, but Enzo’s sparkled while Giovanni’s looked cold. “I guess you two have that in common.” Enzo’s hand moved to pat her shoulder, but it dropped away when she stiffened under the gesture. “Well, then,” he said, moving to the doorway and past Giovanni, who remained there, as if waiting.
“The house,” Giovanni finally said, not looking her way. “Luka can use it as long as he needs. You both can.”
Alina knew she should thank him. She nodded instead, her eyes moving to where Luka slept.
Giovanni didn’t wait for any words of appreciation. As he passed Enzo, the other man laughed again. “You know, she’s actually you’re—”
Giovanni cut him off. “Enough, Enzo.” They both headed toward the front door.
Tearing her gaze away from Luka, Alina followed shortly after. The key Luka had clutched earlier had been placed on a table next to the door. She used it to lock up behind them.
Luka’s blood still stained it, as it did her hands. Her fingers closed around the key, bringing it with her as she entered the bathroom to wash the blood away.
Chapter 13
Luka still hadn’t woken up as evening fell. His bandage felt hot to the touch when she changed it. She touched his skin as little as possible, though his face never changed. He was like the doll Enzo had called her.
She wrapped herself in the soft blanket he’d first covered her with as she curled on the long ottoman at the foot of the bed. For a while, she watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, proof that he was alive. Slowly, her eyes slid shut.
His pained moan slipped inside her nightmare, mixing with her own as this time she fought her attacker with Luka’s knife. Her legs were trapped, and she kicked, jerking awake to find the blanket blocking the motion. She tore it off and rose from the ottoman, the fight instinct turning into flight, but there was nowhere to go.
Her heart pounded as she dragged air into her lungs. Harsh breathing filled the room, but it wasn’t all her own.
Her gaze flew to where Luka lay on the bed. His head writhed against the pillow as another soft groan of pain escaped him.
Alina shifted along the bed. Her hand reached for his forehead, then retreated. He was slick with sweat. The way his face glistened was obvious enough without touching him, even in the filter of moonlight.
