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“Oh, for the love of the saints,” Isabella shouted and tried to struggle to her feet.

“I can have a doctor meet us at the house, unless….” Vincenzo was all business.

“The house is fine. No hospital required.” I lifted my precious cargo into the safety of my arms.

“Franky—” Isabella pointed, then scrunched her eyes closed.

“We’ll collect him for burial, donna,” Vincenzo promised. “But he would kill me if I didn’t take care of you first.”

I liked this kid already.

***

Isabella grew quiet and still, the adrenaline wearing off as we drove into the night. I cradled her in my arms, forcing myself not to keep too tight a grip on her. The feeling of helplessness pulsed through my veins. I had let my guard down, lulled by her presence, so that I fell asleep, and now she was hurt because I finally relinquished my watch and she slipped away.

This was all my fault.

I’ll make it up to you, bella.

I didn’t know how, but I would find a way to ensure she never snuck out on me again.

“Call for the doctor,” I instructed. The Morettis had a connection on standby. There would be no conflict of interest for the man treating her now that her rival was dead. But if the man took too long to come, I would patch Isabella up myself.

Her soldier shot me a sideways glance. Suspicion danced through his dark gaze.

“Vincenzo,” Isabella instructed, “do everything he says. He’s our friend.”

Try as she might to hide it, the pain still edged her voice.

We both heard it, which was probably why the man didn’t argue with her.

“Yes, donna,” the soldier responded.

The Bluetooth lit up the car. On the second ring, a gruff voice barked through the car’s speaker. Vincenzo began a rapid string of Italian. I shifted Isabella, who gasped softly.

“English,” I growled.

The younger man shot me a dark look. He didn’t need to know that I understood him either way. This was for Isabella’s benefit, not mine.

“We need the doctor for the boss,” he said, speeding onto the highway.

“What happened?” the gruff voice demanded.

“I got Bonetti,” Isabella responded. Although it was a struggle for her to form the words, the pride and joy in her voice was undeniable.

Silence pulsed through the phone line for a few seconds before her soldier began a rapid interrogation.

I cut him off. “Doctor. Now.”

“Who’s that?” the voice demanded.

“Michele, listen very carefully,” Isabella panted. Each word was a struggle. My grip tightened around her, and I had to consciously relax my touch. “I’m bringing back my friend and ally. He’s not to be harmed. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a long pause.

Isabella’s eyelids fluttered. A breath stilted in her chest.

She shouldn’t be having this conversation, shouldn’t be talking at all.