Chapter 64 Chapter 64 - Being The Hero Gets You Pistol-Whipped
Cedric’s POV
What a shitshow.
The convoy pulled up to Dr Martinez’s clinic, a long line of shiny black cars looking like we were pulling up to a military compound and not visiting a small neighbourhood vet.
At least six black Mercedes sedans, their windows tinted dark black, were parked in a perfect formation that screamed “organised crime” to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes.
People on the sidewalk immediately changed direction. A woman with a stroller practically ran across the street away from us.
I didn’t like this, but I couldn’t focus on that at the moment. I cradled the puppy closer to my chest, feeling its laboured breathing against my ribs, and tried not to think about the spectacle we were creating.
Poor thing. He thought, running a gentle hand through the dog’s fur.
It wasn’t fair. Why would anyone in their right mind ever hurt something so precious? If he’d been home, then maybe he would have known what to do, he still had a few tools he could use.
But even at that, he’d learned everything he knew from books and he’d never actually gone to school for veterinary medicine, so he didn’t trust himself enough to fix the dog himself.
No, better for the professionals to handle that.
“Stay close,” Gianni said as his door opened, before walking over to Cedric's side to open his door for him. “Don’t wander around, and don’t speak to anyone I haven’t cleared first.”
“It’s a vet clinic for fucks sake, there’s dogs and cats and maybe rabbits. What’s going to happen?,” I muttered.
“Everything is a potential threat.” He stretched his hand out, and I took it without thinking, letting him help me out of the car. “After you.”
I climbed out carefully, trying not to disturb the injured puppy, and immediately felt the weight of dozens of eyes on us.
Gianni emerged behind me, his tall, imposing presence radiating danger in his perfectly tailored suit.
His security detail fanned out quickly. Two men took positions on either side of the clinic entrance, their hands resting visibly on holstered weapons.
Open carry was completely illegal in New York, but apparently that didn’t matter when you were Gianni Falcone.
The message was clear: We’re here and we’re not afraid to shoot.
“This is insane,” I said under my breath as we approached the door. “We’re going to terrify everyone in there.”
“Good,” Gianni replied. “Terrified people don’t cause problems. I could do with someone having some resoegir once.”
As usual, I was right. The second we stepped inside, every single conversation died.
An elderly man with a cat carrier actually stood up and backed away, clutching his pet like we might steal it while a young couple with a nervous-looking parrot pressed themselves against the wall.
The receptionist, Jenny, whose name I remembered her name was Jenny, had been working here since I’d last volunteered, went pale as a ghost.
“I—um—hello, welcome to Martinez Animal Clinic, how can I—” Her eyes darted between me, the bloody puppy, and Gianni’s cold expression glowering down at her. “Oh, God.”
“We need help,” I said quickly, stepping up to the counter. “We found this dog on that side of the road. I think she was hit by a car, she’s bleeding and I think she might have internal injuries and—”
“Let me get my manager,” Jenny interrupted, her voice shaking. “Just—just one second, please don’t—I’ll get him right now.”
She practically lunged for the intercom button, her fingers trembling. “Dr. Martinez? Could you come to the reception please? Immediately. It’s urgent.”
The few seconds we waited felt like hours. I could feel Gianni’s presence at my back, looming and threatening without saying a word.
His security detail at the door was making everyone else in the waiting room actively uncomfortable, pets included. There was a Chihuahua in the corner shaking so hard that its collar rattled.
Then Dr Martinez appeared from the back, wiping his hands on his scrubs, smiling happily. “Jenny, what’s so urgent that—”
He stopped dead when he saw us.
His eyes went from me to Gianni to the armed guards at his door, and all the colour drained from his weathered face. He shot Jenny a look that clearly said “How could you involve me in this,” which she returned with a helpless shrug.
“Cedric?” Dr Martinez tried, “I… wasn’t expecting you.”
“Hey, Dr M,” I said, trying for casual and probably failing spectacularly at it. “Long time no see.”
Dr Martinez’s eyes dropped to the puppy in my arms, taking in the blood and the shallow breathing, and I watched him make some kind of internal calculation.
Whatever personal safety concerns he had, his veterinary instincts were clearly fighting with them in his head.
He slapped on a tight, professional smile. “How can I help you today?”
“We found this dog on the road,” I explained, stepping closer. “About five blocks from here. He got hit by a car and the driver just left him there. He's breathing but it's shallow and there’s blood and I think maybe his leg is broken and—”
“We’re not looking for trouble,” I added quickly when Dr Martinez’s expression remained frightened. “I swear. We just want to make sure he gets help. That’s it.”
Dr Martinez didn’t look convinced. His eyes kept flicking to Gianni, to the guards, back to me.
For all he knew, mafia types killed Dalmatians for sport then used their puppies for target practice. I could see the thoughts running through his head even as his professional training told him to focus on the injured animal.
“I see,” he said finally. “Well. Let me take a look.”
He held out his hands and I carefully transferred the puppy, watching as Dr Martinez supported the small body with practised ease.
The puppy whimpered weakly and I felt my chest tighten with sympathy for it.
“Sebastian!” Dr Martinez called to a young man who’d appeared in the doorway to the back, a new intern that I didn’t recognise.
Though the longer I stared at him, the more I could see that he and I looked very similar, even down to our hairstyles and clothes.
He was staring at the scene with wide, awed eyes. If he'd noticed the same thing I did, he didn't comment on it.
“Prep exam room two" Dr Martinez ordered,. Possible vehicular trauma, suspected internal injuries.”
“Got it, sir.” Sebastian snapped to attention and disappeared.
“We’ll need to do a full examination,” Dr Martinez continued, already moving toward the back. “X-rays, blood work, stabilise him before we can determine the extent of…”
“Unfortunately, we cannot remain here to wait for any of that,” Gianni said, speaking for the first time since we’d entered.
His voice cut through the room, and I watched everyone flinch and kind of shuffle back away from him.
“We have somewhere to be,” Gianni continued. “Do what needs to be done and bill accordingly. I will send someone to return for the animal later.”
Dr Martinez’s jaw tightened. “Sir, I appreciate that you have other commitments, but this dog needs immediate attention and someone should really stay to provide owner information, medical history…”
“It’s a stray,” Gianni said flatly. “There is no owner information. There is no medical history. There is only what you see in front of you. Treat it or don’t, but we’re leaving now.”
That was that. Gianni took my hand and all but dragged me out of there ignoring my protests even when I dug my heels into the floor to get him to stop moving.
We were almost at the door when I heard Dr Martinez whisper under his breath to Sebastian. “Call the Police… Tell them—"
Gianni stopped in his tracks, while I face-palmed.
Fuck.
I sighed. Of course. Of course, someone was going to try to be a hero. Why did they always do something as stupid as that?
Dr Martinez started moving toward the landline phone mounted on the wall behind the reception desk, his hand already reaching for it..
Faster than anyone could see it, Ginani fired his gun at the wall next to his head.
The loud gunshot noise was deafening in the enclosed space.
The phone exploded off the wall in a shower of plastic and sparks, the receiver dangling by a wire. Everyone in the waiting room screamed and dropped to the floor, hands over their heads, pets forgotten in their carriers.
Everyone except me.
I just stood there, watching Gianni lower his weapon, and shook my head. Because I'd come to understand it by then, this was how it was going to go.
Both Gianni and I were trouble magnets.
I should’ve known we couldn’t just do one good deed without it turning into a crisis.
I walked over to the display of dog toys near the window, leaving Gianni to storm towards the head vet spewing angry Italian threats, and picked up a neon green bone-shaped chew toy sitting in the dog toy bin.
Something for the puppy, if he survived.
When he survived, I corrected myself. He had to survive.
I heard the unmistakable slam of someone getting hit in the head with the side of a gun and I broke out of my thoughts.
“Well,” I said to no one in particular, tucking the toy under my good arm and turning to face Gianni, “Here we go again.”