Page 102 of Theta

"He's Dr. Lia's relative.”

"Oh." A pause. "So what's the life-and-death situation?"

"Pugli got to Giuseppe. He sold us out."

Killian accepts this news in silence, and then his head lolls. "Goddammit."

"Dante was pissed."

"He wasn't in on it?"

"No. For sure not. He said he made a promise. Giuseppe said he didn't have a choice. They threatened Giuseppe's wife and daughter. It was that or make enough money to retire."

Killian nods heavily. “Sounds about right. Talk about an offer you can't refuse, huh? Either we kill your family, or we make you rich."

"What do we do?" I ask. "I'm useless. I can't…I can't even sit up. I can barely move, and you’re not much better.”

Killian's eyes are hard and furious. "I'll handle it." A pause. "Did you hear anything about a time?"

"They were going back and forth between English and Italian. I heard…uh…quan-something. Quando?"

“That's ‘when.' "

I rack my brain. "Ahh. Domain? Dome-ahn? Dome-something."

"Domani?"

"Yeah, that."

"It means tomorrow. There's an English-Italian dictionary in the room I'm in."

"Killy," I murmur. "I just want to go home."

"I know," he murmurs. "Me too."

"We need to call our families."

“I know. It's just been a fucking whirlwind since the second they dumped you in that container with me."

"That was last year, right?"

He snickers. "Yep."

"You know what's kind of shockingly stupid?"

"Thinking we could take on that many guys on our own?"

"I mean, that too," I say. "But no. I was gonna say that I’ve only got Mom and Dad's phone numbers memorized.”

"Oh. Part of being a Harris is memorizing a fucking phone book full of phone numbers. I know Mom’s, Dad’s, Brynnie’s, Rin’s, Cal’s, Uncle Val’s, Aunt Key's….as well as at least half a dozen call-in emergency service numbers. I just haven't had a chance to get a hold of a clean burner."

"Do we still have our guns?" I ask.

He nods, pulls a compact Sig Sauer from the small of his back, shows it to me, and puts it back. "The bag's in my room, too."

Something in the way he keeps saying "my room" brings a question to mind. "How long was I unconscious?"

“Two days. You lost a lot of blood, and when you hit your head, you hit it a lot harder than I think you realized. You nearly fucking died, Story. Doc Lia operated on you for four hours, getting the bullet out and making sure you weren't bleeding internally."