Mafia War by L. Steele

34

Karma

"What…what’s wrong?" I try to stand up, but my legs don’t seem capable of supporting me. I push my feet into the floor then straighten in my seat. "How…" I croak, "how is he?"

"The surgery went well; we removed the bullet."

A frisson of relief rushes through me, "Is he, is he going to be okay?" I rasp.

"The bullet missed his vital organs. He is a very lucky man."

Tension drains from my limbs, and I sink against the back of the chair, exhaling loudly.

"Is he…is he awake?"

"He’s not conscious, yet," the doctor replies, "but you can see him for a few minutes, if you’d like."

I nod, then rise to my feet. Christian rises with me, but I wave him off. "I’ll be fine," I tell him as I walk over to the doctor. I follow the doctor as he strides down the corridor.

He leads me to a room. "He’s inside." The doctor steps aside and I push the door open and step in. The beeps of the machines monitoring his vitals fill the space. He’s covered in a sheet that’s tucked around his waist. The bandage that is wrapped around his chest is stark against the tan of his skin. His eyes are shut, those gorgeous eyelashes fanning in an arch against his high cheekbones. His cheeks are pale, the hollows under his eyes more pronounced than normal. I walk over to him, reach over and take his hand in mine. My fingers look tiny against his. I hold his big palm between both of mine, then bring it to my face and press it against my cheek. His skin is warm, and that dark, edgy scent of his is tempered by the scent of antiseptic. It’s still him, though. My Capo. Mine.

Only, he’ll never leave this life. I couldn’t ask him to leave it. Which means he’ll always be in danger. Maybe a part of me has always known that. It’s why I had been attracted to him, after all… But now, with the evidence of how it could hurt him in front of me, I am not sure I can live with it. I lower his arm, place his hand on the bed next to him. Then I lean in and kiss his cheek. I push away the strand of hair that has fallen across his forehead, take in the whiskers that have grown across his jaw, the rise and fall of his chest, the sculpted planes still visible, despite the bandage that swathes him.

This man... Even unconscious, he’s lethal. Even with his charisma dimmed, he’s potent. I lean down and brush my lips over his. Soft lips, that could kiss so hard I could feel it all the way to my toes. I share his breath, revel in that unique maleness of his that is a combination of everything he is.

I am sorry, my Capo, but I am leaving. Sorry that I can’t stay with you and tell you so in person. If I did, you’d stop me and I’d never be able to refuse you. I’d give in to your dominance and stay… And then I’d never know if it was because I really wanted to stay, or if it was because I couldn’t turn you down. That’s why I am leaving now. Do you understand?

I turn to go and something tugs at my hand. I look down to find his fingers are wrapped around my wrist. I glance up at his face but his eyes are shut. Peer down at where he still holds onto me. I reach for his fingers and peel them off, one by one.

Tears pricks the backs of my eyes. Don’t cry, damn it. This is the right thing to do. If I have any hope of living life in a way that is true to myself, then I need to do this. It’s the right thing for both of us.

Just as I’d never ask him to leave the Mafia, he too should never force me to do something that I don’t want. And that was how our relationship started. With him taking me against my wishes.

Lots has changed since then, though. We know each other so much better. He knows what I am all about, what I like, and don’t like. Surely, he’ll understand?

I turn to leave, and this time, nothing stops me. I pause at the door, turn to look at him one last time. Then I head back to the waiting room. "Does anyone have a pen and paper?"

The guys look at each other, then Massimo reaches inside his jacket. He pulls out a small diary and a pen, before walking over to hand it to me.

I glance at it, then up at him, "Molesekine?"

He flushes, "I, uh, doodle a bit when I have time."

I open the book filled with pages of his surprisingly neat handwriting, until I find a clean page. I start to write and he turns his back to me. "Use me as a table," he tells me.

I balance the diary against his back, and start writing. When I am done, I tear out the page. As he straightens and turns to me, I slip off my ring, wrap it in the page and hand it over to him. "Give it to him when he wakes up," I tell him.

"Karma" he whispers, "what are you doing?"

"What is right for both of us."

"He took a bullet for you," Christian walks toward me, "and you are leaving him?"

"Just give him the letter, Massimo," I plead, "please."

Massimo hesitates.

Christian glares at me.

Seb and Luca walk over to surround me.

I firm my lips, "Your new Don will not be happy that you refused to help his wife."

"Our new Don will be even less happy if we let his wife leave," Christian points out.

I turn on him, "What’s between my husband and me is our concern and no one else’s."

He winces, "Karma, don’t do this."

I turn back to Massimo. "Take it." I jut out my chin, "It would be a lot worse if I left without his having this letter. He needs to read this, Massimo."

He draws in a breath, then reaches over and takes the letter and the ring from me.

I move back a few steps, take in their faces. These men whom I have come to regard as family. I glance at Luca, who jerks his chin in my direction. Even Luca, who helped me escape…then helped me return to my husband…Yeah, they are each impressive in their own right. And together like this…it brings home just how strong they are as a unit. The strongest, most impressive of them all is my husband—the one who I am going to leave.

A hot sensation stabs at my chest…and it’s nothing to do with my heart condition. Damn it, I am going to miss them. Guess I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to regard myself as one of them, and now, I am going to have to leave them. Tears prick the backs of my eyes and I turn away.

"What about Andy?" Adrian calls out after me.

I pause, "Tell Michael to take care of him."

Turning, I walk out of the room. Out of the hospital. Out of his life.