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“Hi, Angela. I was just wondering if you were still coming over tonight?”
“Tonight? Did we have plans?” she asked Luca, who was on the other end of her cell phone. She really hoped they didn’t. It had been a nightmare shift and her head was pounding—as well as her face. She had taken a hard kick to the eye from a junkie hopped up on the latest street drug and had a rapidly forming shiner.
“It’s Friday. You said Sal’s stitches were due out today,” Luca reminded her.
Angela grimaced, leaning her back against the headrest in her car. She was in the exact same spot she had been six months prior when she’d been trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey and tossed in the trunk of a stranger’s car. The first few times she’d gone to work, it was difficult to park in her reserved space. But she pushed through the residual fear, and it hadn’t bothered her since. It probably also had something to do with the fact that people like Luca and Abel called her so frequently these days. She was well and truly desensitized.
“Angela? Are you still there?” Luca asked.
“I’m here,” she replied, not opening her eyes.
“You sound beat,” Luca said sympathetically. “Forget I mentioned it. Salvatore has no problem pulling his own stitches out.”
Her lids flew open. “Pulling?! Luca, you bite your tongue,” she scolded.
The very thought of Salvatore wrenching out her neat stitches, made her break out in hives. Yes, he was ex-military and had enough medical skills to sew himself up, meaning he could easily remove his own stitches. But after getting to know him, she knew he would be just as likely to use his teeth.
Like a savage.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she stated.
Luca giggled. “Seriously, Angela, you don’t have to come. It’s not an emergency. You do enough for us.”
“And I get paid exorbitantly, don’t I?” she retorted.
Roman was still directing funds to the resource center. Although, the asshole had paid a few hundred dollars less one time to cover the cost of new shoes. The memory of the night she had gotten drunk with Morrigan was still fresh in her mind, even three months later. Well, kind of fresh, she amended. Most of her conversation with her drinking buddy was hazy. But she vividly remembered blowing chunks all over Roman and his beautiful, plush cream carpet. “I’m on my way,” she said to Luca. “I haven’t even left the hospital yet.”
She made it to Omertà within ten minutes, taking the elevator directly to Luca and Sal’s apartment. It was on the floor below Roman’s and was a warm and fun space. She had spent many nights there eating, playing cards, and laughing. She knocked on the door, counting off the throbbing beats in her head.
Luca opened the door with a wide smile. “Thanks for com—” He broke off with a gasp. “Oh, honey, what happened to your poor face?”
Angela smiled at her younger friend. “It’s nothing. A work mishap. Now, where is this man of yours?”
“He’s in the kitchen with Roman,” Luca replied with a frown.
Angela had just walked inside, and was heading in the direction of the kitchen, but she paused. “Roman is here?”
Luca nodded. “It’s Friday.” Luca smiled, but it looked strained and worried. “Remember? We kind of just talked about the day of the week on the phone.”
Angela would have slapped her forehead if it didn’t already hurt so much. Friday night was family dinner night. Each week, the location changed from Luca’s to Roman’s, but the brothers always got together to share a meal every week. Often, Abel and Morrigan and a few others would join them if they were free. Angela had been invited many times, but she always declined. It may have been a casual meal at home, but it was one reserved for family.
“I’m sorry. I totally forgot about family dinner night,” she said.
“It’s fine. You know you’re welcome,” Luca insisted. He wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his head against hers. They were about the same height. “Sit down. You really don’t look so good.”
Angela sighed, giving Luca some of her weight. She was just about to agree when she heard a commotion. Looking up, she saw Roman charging towards her.
“What the fuck happened?” he demanded.
Angela stood up straight again, making a passable attempt at a smile. “I took a boot to the face.”
“Someone kicked you?” Salvatore asked as he entered the room. He looked pissed.
Angela stood still as Roman reached out with his hand. His touch was gentle as he turned her face this way and that, but his face was murderous. As if the bruise was somehow a personal insult to him. “It was a patient. It happens sometimes.” She pulled herself free, mostly because all she really wanted to do was lean into his touch.
Roman crossed his arms over his chest. “Explain,” he ordered.
Angela started to roll her eyes, but the movement hurt too damn much. “Roman, it’s no big deal. It’s a bruise. I’ve had worse. Trust me.”
