Page 216 of Cara & Gian: The Guzzi Duet

“Gian … Gian!”

Cara’s hoarse, panicked cry had Gian sitting straight in the uncomfortable hospital chair. His eyes flew wide, not that he had been sleeping. He couldn’t sleep, really. In his daze of watching monitors and waiting, he had settled into a headspace that kept his anxiety and rage at bay, but forced him into a still state of semi-consciousness.

“Gian!”

“Shh,” Gian murmured, “it’s all right, mon ange. Everything’s fine. You’re fine. The baby is fine. I’m fine.”

He was leaning closer to Cara’s hospital bed, instantly, already squeezing her hand that he hadn’t let go of since he came into the room. His other hand swept through her mess of curls, sweeping the hair from her face so that her searching blue eyes could find his, and she would relax.

Again.

This was the third time since he had arrived that she’d woken up confused, in a state, and unable to calm down. The first two times, his presence had done very little for her. Nurses had rushed in, then, needing Cara calm again for the baby’s sake, had administered something into her IV that put her back to sleep.

She was lucky.

So fucking lucky.

At first, Gian had thought a concussion was likely, given the gash on Cara’s hairline, and the bump behind her right ear. The doctor had agreed, and every thirty minutes, Cara had been woken up, checked over as best as was possible, and then allowed to rest again. Not that she had understood much of what was going on.

Cara’s frightened gaze finally met Gian’s and for the first time, she relaxed without the help of added medication. She slumped into the bed, but not before her arm—tacked and taped with an IV and tubes—snaked around his neck, and dragged him closer.

“The baby is perfectly fine,” Gian told her again before she could ask. He could already see her questions forming. “He’s great, his heartbeat is strong and they brought in the portable ultrasound machine to look everything over.”

Cara’s hold on him loosened, but barely. “Okay.”

“Do you want a drink, or something?”

“Water.”

“Sure, bella. You have to let me go first.”

She did but it took a while. He quickly got the glass of water ready, with a bendy straw, and then helped her to drink until she was satisfied. Her voice wasn’t as dry when she spoke again.

“My head hurts and my side, too.”

Gian nodded. “You hit your head pretty hard inside the truck, and—”

“He pushed me.”

“Hmm?”

“Gilles,” Cara said, her brow furrowing and her gaze dimming with memories. “He pushed me into the truck, out of the way, when the lights came out of nowhere.”

Ah.

Well, yet another reason for Gian to thank the enforcer and make sure he was given a proper send off to the heavens. For now, though, Gilles’ body was still chilling on a slab in the morgue.

“You probably hurt your bottom rib at the same time,” Gian explained. “Not broken, but it took a hard hit, like your head.”

Cara’s fingers danced along her hairline, and she winced at the feeling of the stitched slice that was a good two inches long. “Ow.”

“Don’t touch,” he said, moving her hand away and tucking it into his own. “It’s going to be sore for a while, but it’ll heal nicely, given the way they stitched it.”

Her wince deepened into a scowl, and her body tensed.

“Ow.”

Gian looked over at the monitor, recognizing how Cara’s body tensed with that specific pain. He watched the little paper coming out of the machine spike but quickly drop. It had been nearly forty-five minutes since the last time it did that, and this time, the duration had been significantly shorter.