Wounded Redemption by Brook Wilder
Chapter 19
Rory
I sat in the chair next to Vincent, my arms wrapped around my waist and the coffee sitting cold on the table before me. It had been two hours since the last update; Nico was still in surgery, and everything was going as expected.
I didn’t know what “as expected” truly meant, but he wasn’t dead, and that was all that mattered. No one was telling us what had exactly happened to warrant surgery, and I hadn’t bothered to ask Vincent what had gone wrong in their plan.
The vest should have stopped the bullets, and all Nico would have was some bruised ribs. “What was the plan?” I found myself asking.
Vincent let out a heavy breath. “He said that he had to go in. I tried to talk him out of it, telling him it was nothing but a trap, but Nico knew that. He said that there would be no other reason his father wanted to take you but to draw him out. I talked him into putting the vest on. I knew Carmine was likely going to take the opportunity to shoot first.” A small hint of a smile crossed his face before it was gone. “He told me that you would kill him yourself if you knew that he went in without protection.”
I gave him a little smile. “That’s true. Why didn’t it work?”
“That’s what I have been trying to figure out,” he replied, raking a hand through his hair. “Maybe he was too close? Maybe the type of bullets Carmine was using? I don’t fucking know, but if I had known—”
“You wouldn’t have been able to stop him,” I interrupted. “It’s Nico.”
Vincent sighed. “Yeah, you’re right.” He looked over at me. “You should have seen him when he found out, Rory. I thought he was going to lose it.”
I bit my lip against the new onslaught of tears that threatened. I couldn’t even begin to imagine what he must have gone through, knowing that he was going to have to leave our son to come rescue me and would likely die trying.
“Where is he?”
I looked up to see Leda in the doorway, her tear-stained gaze on mine. “Where is my brother?”
I stood, and we met somewhere in the middle, throwing our arms around each other. “He’s in surgery,” I forced out as she sobbed against my shoulder. “He’s doing fine.”
“This shouldn’t have happened!” she wailed as I rubbed her back. “He should have left a long time ago, dropped this war with our father!”
I couldn’t have agreed more. This had gone on far too long, and while Nico’s revenge had been one of the reasons we had come together that night, I would have rather him not let the anger get the best of him. It had been fueled by hate, hate of what his father had made him do and the lies he had fed Nico over the years in thinking he had a hidden son. “It’s all in the past,” I told her, choking on the words. “Nico needs for us to focus on him.”
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. “Of course he does. He’s my brother and I can’t lose him. I can’t.” Leda dissolved into tears once more and I led her to the chair, forcing her to sit. “Neither can I,” I told her, clenching her hand in mine. “And we aren’t going to lose him. I won’t let it happen.”
Leda leaned her head on my shoulder, and we sat there, our hands clenched together as I gave up another silent prayer for the hundredth time since Nico was shot. I didn’t know if they were working, but he was still alive presently, and I wasn’t going to give up until proven otherwise.
It wasn’t long after Leda arrived that Emilia burst through the door, and my tears started all over again as she asked what happened and examined my bruise. “Good God, Rory,” she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes. “What can I do?”
“Sit?” I asked, my body shaking. “Wait with me?”
Emilia nodded, and Vincent moved over so that Leda could be on one side and Emilia on the other, our hands clenched together. Every once in a while Leda would let out a sob, but I stayed largely stoic, not sure if there were any tears left for me.
Finally, a man in a lab coat and surgical scrubs came in and we all stood, my heart hammering in my chest. “He’s out of surgery,” he stated. “A bullet lodged in his lung, so I had to get it out. Another nicked a small artery, which was where the bleeding was coming from. Somehow they all missed his heart. I can’t tell you how extremely lucky your husband is at the moment.”
“How is he?” I asked anxiously.
“He’s stable,” the surgeon said tiredly. “Vitals look good, and I’ve got him still on the ventilator just as a precaution. He needs some time to heal, but I imagine we will be pulling the tube tomorrow morning.” He eyed Vincent. “You are more than welcome to see him, but please don’t get him stirred up. The next few hours are critical to his survival.”
“Go on,” Leda said when I looked at her. “You need to see him first.”
I did, desperately. The surgeon led me back to the intensive care unit, where all I saw were machines and constant beeping filled the air. “He’s in here,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Stay as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” I tumbled out before stepping into the cold room. Here there were more machines and beeping, but my eyes were on the man in the bed, his chest swaddled by bandages. The tube was still hanging out of his mouth, the machine helping him breathe, but the steady heart rate on the monitor next to the bed was all that I needed to see.
Nico was alive.
Cautiously, I made my way over to the bedside and touched his hand, finding it cool to the touch. “I’m here, my love,” I told him, stroking the back of his hand. “I’m here. I need for you to come back to Anthony and me. We can’t live without you. Your sister needs you. Vincent needs you. You are our rock and—” I couldn’t go on, my throat closing against the emotion. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how he was my heart, but those words just sounded so trivial compared to what I truly felt about Nico.
So, I leaned in and brushed my lips over his forehead, the only place that didn’t have a tube sticking out of it. “Come back to me,” I whispered against his skin. “Come back to me, Nico.”
**
The next day, Leda and I both visited his bedside, glad to see that they had removed the tube. The nurse explained to us that he was breathing just fine, and the meds they had him on while he was on the machine were taking their time wearing off, which was why his eyes weren’t open. “He can hear you just fine,” she said, patting my arm. “Maybe you can get him to open them.”
I walked to the bedside and placed my hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair back lightly. He had been given a bath recently and smelled like baby soap that I used on Anthony.
“He would hate to know that they bathed him,” Leda murmured as she touched her brother’s hand on the other side of the bed. “He’s not one to let anyone do that.”
I held back my smile, thinking of all the times I had bathed him. “You’re right.”
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Leda continued. “Our father shot his own son. What kind of monster does something like that, Rory? Why?”
“Maybe he’s jealous that his son is a heck of a lot stronger than he could ever be.”
“Maybe,” his sister responded, looking down at his brother. “You know, when I was growing up, I prayed for a normal family. I wanted family vacations and holidays and all the things that my friends had. Nico was the only reason that I had anything remotely caring in my life, and it’s because of him that I haven’t turned into a hateful person like my father.”
“I don’t believe that,” I replied softly. “You are caring. You are an amazing person.”
Leda gave a little shrug. “Maybe.” She backed away from the bed. “I’m going to get some coffee. You want some?”
“No thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m good.”
She walked out as I let out a little breath, my fingers trailing over Nico’s forehead. I wanted to see his gorgeous eyes. I wanted to hear his voice.
I wanted to know that he was okay. The surgeon had stated that he would have a rough couple of days but was expected to make a complete recovery.
I would be there every step of the way.
“Are you done talking about me?”
I stilled my touch on Nico’s forehead as his raspy voice filled the air and his eyes fluttered open, focusing on my face. “How long have you been awake?” I asked, arching a brow.
He lifted his lips into a smirk. “Maybe long enough to hear my sister sing my praises.”
A flutter in my throat appeared. “I should hit you, but then I would feel bad about hitting an invalid.”
He rasped a laugh and then groaned, holding his abdomen. “Fuck, that hurt.”
I was finding it hard to hold back the emotions that coursed through me. “How do you feel?”
“Like someone backed over me with a semi,” he stated. “My throat is killing me.”
“It’s because you had a tube down it,” I answered gently, my voice cracking. It was an image I hoped I would never see again for the rest of my life, Nico helpless, and I unable to do anything about it other than pray.
His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Rory. I couldn’t not come for you. When he called me, I could only think of you.”
“He nearly killed you,” I whispered, only because I didn’t trust my own voice. “He killed Angelica.”
Nico’s brow furrowed. “What?”
“He shot her,” I said, wiping the tears away. I knew he didn’t know. Everything had happened so quickly before he was shot, and there was no way he could have seen her crumpled form. “It’s my fault. I should never have pushed him that far. I caused her death.”
“Stop,” Nico said, reaching out to grip my hand. “This isn’t your fucking fault. None of it is. You were trying to help her.”
I sucked in a breath. Didn’t he realize that everything I had done, how I had gotten her involved, was the reason she was dead? “How can you not say that I caused her death? Carmine went after her because of me.”
Nico arched a brow. “Did you hold the gun to her head, Rory? Did you keep her locked away for years without a way to break free? You were trying to give Angelica her life back. She didn’t try before then.” He cleared his throat, and I reached for the water on the table, letting him take a few sips. “Besides,” he said. “Carmine was coming after you either way, whether you sent that article or not. He knew you were my one weakness I wouldn’t be able to turn my back on. Hell, I probably would have come after Angelica as well.”
I believed he would. Nico was that sort of person behind the persona he liked to play up. “What about Lorenzo?” I asked instead. “What do we do now?”
“Right now,” he replied, squeezing my hand gently. “I need to get the fuck out of here at the first opportunity, and we’ll go home.”
“That will be a few days yet,” I told him, my lips lifting into a tired smile. I honestly didn’t even know what day it was. I hadn’t left since coming in, staying in a room reserved for families and having Leda or Emilia bring me clothing. With the pandemic still going on, once I left, they wouldn’t let me back in, and nothing was going to keep me from Nico’s side. “You need to rest and get stronger before we can start talking about going home.”
He groaned, not at all excited about the prospect. “Well then, you are going to have to give me my baths. I want you to be extra fucking thorough.”
I smiled through my tears as I reached down and pressed my lips to his forehead. “I love you,” I breathed, so glad that I wasn’t saying goodbye to him. I had thought about it many times during his surgery, how I might have to do just that, and it was going to tear me in two to do so.
“I love you,” he replied. “And when I get out of here, I’m going to show you just how much all over again.”
My body trembled. “The doctor said it will be a while before that can happen.”
Nico’s eyes flashed with heat. “When is the last time I’ve followed anyone’s advice?” He patted the side of the bed, away from his affected side. “Why aren’t you in here right now?”
I rolled my eyes, wanting nothing more than to be curled up next to him. “Patience, my love, patience.”
His wolfish grin was so out of place for the injuries he had sustained. I mean, honestly, he shouldn’t be thinking about that at all. “I’ll remember that, love.”
God, I loved him.
**
Leda
I stood at the door, watching as my sister-in-law and brother kissed gently. There had been many times in my life that I had been scared. I was a D’Agostino, after all, my father a Mafia don, but the panic I felt when Vincent had called and told me that Nico had been shot was the worst day of my life so far. I hoped it would be the worst day ever.
I was so glad that Rory and Nico had found each other. Watching their tender moment was like a balm to my soul, knowing that he would have someone to take care of him but also someone who would push back when he got all macho like he sometimes did. I hated my father for what he had done to them, or what he had tried to do, because it looked like he had failed miserably.
My brother loved someone, and she wasn’t just anyone. Rory was special, and she had given me the most precious nephew in my life.
I couldn’t ask for anything else.
Sighing inwardly, I turned away from the room and walked back to the waiting room, determined to give them some time together. Even with my father still at large presently, I knew that I was looking for a happily-ever-after for them.
One of us should be happy like that.
Now that all of this happened, I didn’t know what my future held.
