Chapter 62: Chapter Sixty-Two

Gloria stared at the drip feeding into Frankie’s IV. A new drop would fall every second. One. Two. Three. Four. That’s how she counted the minutes since they’d brought him back out of surgery. He was laid out flat on his back, tubes of every size, shape, and purpose sticking out of him. Gauze peeked out from his hospital gown covering deep cuts on his arms, his thighs, and, most prominently, around his shoulder and chest. Where once the beginning of her name would show under his collar, now there was white medical tape.

A delicate hand landed on her shoulder, and she jerked slightly, though her eyes remained fastened on Frankie, afraid if she took her eyes away for even a moment, the steady beep of his monitor would ricochet into madness. It wouldn’t have been the first time it happened since he’d been admitted. The hand on her shoulder squeezed.

“Gloria, we need to take a break,” Gen said softly.

Gloria finally dragged her eyes away from Frankie to look up at the Donna hovering above her. Her appearance was in sharp contrast to when she’d first arrived at the hospital. Gloria heard her before she’d seen her. She screamed out her husband’s name as she rampaged through the hospital in search of him. Several of Accardi’s men tried to subdue her, but their hesitance to restrain their own boss kept her from slowing down. Then, hospital security showed up and tried to escort her out. Gloria had watched with eyes wide as the Donna pulled a handgun from her purse and shot two of the security guards in the foot and leg before grabbing another around the neck and pressing the hot barrel to his forehead.

“My name is Genevieve Accardi!” she’d screamed. “I’m here to see my husband, and the next person to try to stop me from doing so will lose a vital organ!”

That’s when Leo had intervened. Only the soft calling of her first name from down the hall had broken her out of her trance. Something about the way he’d said it, as if she’d never heard him speak it before, made the Donna release the security guard and stalk toward the imposing figure.

She didn’t drop the gun, though; instead, she pointed it directly between Leo’s eyes and said, “Take me to him. Now!”

“Gloria,” Gen said, her voice slightly louder, bringing Gloria back to the present.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re still covered in blood.”

“Who cares?”

“The hospital staff think…”

“The same hospital staff that you threatened to kill eight hours ago?” Gloria asked with a challenging raise of a brow.

Gen smirked slightly, though the action didn’t reach her eyes, which were bloodshot and heavy. She took a few steps and fell into the chair beside Gloria to stare at the man lying before them.

“They were able to extricate the remaining bullet fragments from Matteo’s chest,” Gen told her, though Gloria hadn’t asked. “They apparently had to take a piece of his lung to do so. No more smoking.”

“Pity,” Gloria said with a sigh as she reclined further in the chair, fighting the exhaustion that threatened to pull her under.

“How is he?” Gen asked, bobbing her head toward Frankie.

“Stable. They have him sedated.” Gloria didn’t bother listing the dozens of injuries he’d sustained. The worst of them being the bullet through his shoulder, broken fingers and ribs, dislocated shoulder that had to be fixed surgically, and the slab of skin that had been peeled from his chest.

“Lucky bastard.”

Gloria snorted.

“Look,” Gen said with a heavy sigh.

“I’m not leaving.”

“I need your help with something,” Gen continued anyway.

“I don’t work for you. I’m staying here.”

“It’s Bridget Phelan.”

Gloria’s hands tightened on the arm of her chair, and the faux leather creaked under the force. “What about her?”

“Because of my pregnancy, I can’t handle the sight of blood,” Gen explained.

Gloria turned to face her. “What are you talking about?”

Gen sighed. “I’m talking about the blonde bitch responsible for this whole mess being tied to a chair awaiting her judgment. I know you don’t want to leave his side but the nurses tell me he will continue to be sedated for the foreseeable future.” Gen looked to Gloria. “So the way I figure it, we can stay here looking like lost little chicks pining over our men who don’t even know we’re doing so. Or we can go take care of a little business our own way before said men wake up and tell us we’re too dainty to do so.”

Gloria looked back at Frankie and the swollen, bruised skin of his face. “He won’t wake up while we’re gone?”

“I’ll make sure the nurses won’t let him,” Gen assured her. “In the meantime.” She snapped her finger and one of her men stepped inside. “Don, sit here,” she said, getting out of her chair.

“It’s fine, Donna, I can…” Whatever he was about to say became lodged in his throat when her ice-blue glare cut to him. “Yes, ma’am.” Don hurried to take her seat and folded his hands together in his lap.

Gen patted his head and motioned for Gloria to follow. Before she did, however, Gloria stood and walked the two short steps to Frankie’s bed. She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“Don’t wake up,” she whispered. She started to pull away and then reconsidered. She lowered her head back down. “I mean, wake up, just wait ‘til I’m back. I have work to do. Don’t worry. I’ll make it painful just like you’d want me to.” She kissed him one more time on the forehead and went to join Gen in the hallway.

As the two women walked down the corridor, every nurse, doctor and security guard ducked into the nearest patient room or supply closet. Gen was right. Gloria had never changed out of her blood-soaked clothes. That would have required going back to the apartment, a task that seemed too daunting while Frankie was in surgery. Then, when he’d been wheeled into his room, it didn’t feel necessary enough to leave. What they were about to do, though? That was certainly a good enough excuse.

It had been a miracle in and of itself that she’d managed to keep the two men alive on the plane ride home. She and Leo took shifts tending to the two main priorities and the lesser-injured men who had been loaded into the private jet. Leo handled the triage: plugging holes, tightening tourniquets, administering pain killers with a violent stab to the thigh. Gloria handled the things that took more finesse: suturing deep lacerations, digging the bullet out of Mr. Accardi’s chest, splinting Frankie’s broken bones. Neither of them had stopped: not when the plane experienced turbulence and threatened to send everyone plummeting to the earth, not when they had touched down and the men were carted into the awaiting ambulances. They only stopped when the surgeons shoved them forcefully away from the gurneys and the two watched, standing side by side, as the men they loved disappeared behind the double doors of the surgical wing. Leo had not spoken to her other than to give and receive orders. But in that moment, when the responsibility to keep their charges alive had been transferred, he’d set his bloodied hand on her shoulder and squeezed.

The light outside the hospital was blinding. Gen handed Gloria an extra pair of sunglasses as they walked toward a waiting SUV… with a disgruntled Leo waiting by the passenger door with his arms crossed.

“Don’t give me that look, Leo,” Gen warned, shooing him away so she could get in the passenger seat.

“You should wait until Accardi wakes up,” Leo said, his voice gruff as if he’d spent two hours arguing this same point with the woman until he’d lost his voice.

Genevieve didn’t answer. She merely slammed the passenger door in his face. Leo turned to look at Gloria as if debating the use in striking up the argument with her. Gloria crossed her arms and shook her head. Leo sighed as he stalked around the SUV to the driver’s seat.

The trio rode in silence to their destination, all three too exhausted to think of small talk, all three too angry to form a coherent thought. Within twenty minutes, Leo pulled the SUV up alongside a dilapidated restaurant with newspapers covering the windows. She stepped out of the car and followed Gen toward the entrance. The interior was dimly lit. A few of Accardi’s men lounged around circular tables playing cards or reading the newspaper, their handguns within easy reach. They all looked up and gave the group a nod of acknowledgment before returning to their various activities. Gen pushed through to the kitchen. Gloria was forced to step out of the way and hold the door so two men could drag out a badly beaten body.

“Jesus, Leo,” Gen said with a shake of her head as she clasped her hand over her mouth.

“You said I could,” Leo answered back, his glare following the blood trail out the door.

“I said you could take out your frustrations.”

“That’s what I did. Lesser had it coming. He was a traitorous asshole and he’s lucky it was me and not Accardi,” Leo said, his voice clipped as he stalked past her toward a small box TV showing a security feed. Gloria stepped up behind him and noticed a woman latched to what appeared to be an electric chair. Her blood boiled as she recognized the blonde bitch who had tried to make a pass at Frankie only a week ago.

“Was she in there when you…” Gen trailed off.

Leo’s answer was a dark grin that would earn him employment in any haunted house he auditioned for.

“Do I get her all to myself?” Gloria asked, her focus singular.

She could sense Gen and Leo looking at each other. “If that’s what you want,” Gen answered.

“Are there any limitations?” she asked.

“Kill her for all we care. The Phelans have stepped over the line one too many times. They’ve already started a war by siding with Sergei and kidnapping Frank,” Leo said, pulling up a chair.

“And if I don’t want to kill her?” Gloria asked, her eyes still on the monitor and the woman who looked far too comfortable.

“What exactly did you have in mind?” Gen asked.

Gloria didn’t answer. Instead, she walked away from the TV and opened the door of the walk-in cooler where they had the woman awaiting Gloria’s wrath.