I exhale. Nod.
He goes into the bathroom to wash his hands then returns to the bedroom to lay out some ointments, bandages and plastic bottles of pills.
“These pain killers,” I say, reading the label of one of the containers. “These are strong enough?”
“It looks worse than it is, Cristiano. She will be sore, but he only broke skin in a few places. She’ll be fine in a few days.” He plucks the bottle from my hand and sets it back on the nightstand. “Besides, any more would knock her out.”
“I’d rather she sleeps if it’s painful.”
“I don’t think that’s up to you to decide.”
I give him a look.
He ignores it and closes his medical bag. “I can stay on property if you want.”
I brush a strand of hair back from her forehead. She doesn’t stir. She looks younger, somehow. Softer. Her face relaxed in a way I don’t often see it. I didn’t want her awake, not for the examination that would tell me if Rinaldi or anyone else touched her.
With a deep exhale, I turn to the doctor. “I appreciate that, but we’ll be all right.” We walk out of the bedroom, where her brother and Cerberus sit anxiously outside.
Noah stands as soon as he sees us and Cerberus does the same, poking his nose at the crack in the door. He’d try to slip in if I let him. I guide him back to the hallway.
“Besides,” I tell the doctor. “I’d prefer not to see you again for a good long time. No offense.”
“None taken. I feel the same,” he says with a wink. I like the man. Always have. “I’ll see myself out. One of your men will take me back?”
“Antonio will see to it.” The doctor nods as he descends the stairs and I turn to Noah.
“How is she?” he asks, eyes wide, face that of a boy. A scared boy. She’s the last of his family.
“She’ll be fine. He gave her a heavy dose of a sedative, so she’ll be out for a bit. Why don’t you go get something to eat?” He’s a bottomless pit when it comes to food.
He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair.
“Or get some sleep. Have you slept?”
“I’m fine. It was Rinaldi?”
I nod. “And the cartel.”
“Are you sure about that? Why would the cartel hurt her?”
“We’ll talk to her when she wakes up and see what we can figure out.”
“Can I go in there?”
“As long as you let her sleep.”
“Thanks.”
He moves into the bedroom and I walk to the top of the stairs. I hear the front door close and footsteps into the living room. My uncle. I walk down the stairs, Cerberus on my heels. Sending him to the kitchen, I head into the living room to find my uncle standing in front of my mother’s portrait. He took a shower too, even though he didn’t take a dunk, and he looks as crisp as usual. He keeps several suits on the island.
“She was a beauty,” he says when I walk into the room.
“She was. I wonder if Elizabeth would have looked like her.” The thought comes out of nowhere and my uncle turns to me.
“Don’t go down that road. You’ve already lost focus.”
I know why he says it. I don’t like it, but I understand why. He’s right. I have already lost focus. Because tonight, I had Rinaldi in my sights. Tonight, I could have taken him. I could have gotten what I needed to understand and avenge my family.
Tonight, I could have been done with it.
But I chose Scarlett instead.
And I’m not sure if it’s even puzzling that I did.
I walk away, noticing the whiskey Lenore left on the coffee table and pour some into each of the tumblers. My uncle’s eyes burn into my back. He’s pissed.
Picking up both glasses, I turn and walk to him. I hand him one.
“You got to the old man who rented the boat?”
He nods. “He’s taken care of. Not that he’s any of our concern.”
“He’s a human being.” I didn’t want the cartel returning to punish the old man for the tracking device he’d had on the boat every time they’d taken it.
“Sometimes I don’t recognize you, Cristiano. You even put your own brother’s life at risk and for what?”
I turn to walk to the window. I feel his eyes on me as he drinks his whiskey. The sea is calmer today, the sky clearer, as the sun sets. Apart from a moonless night when stars blanket the sky, it’s the most beautiful time on the island.
“What did you expect me to do? Let her die?”
He faces me, eyes hard, jaw set. “She is a means to an end. That is all. Not worth Dante’s life. Or yours.”
A means to an end. If I want to work with the cartel, I need her. It’s why I married her. But there’s something fundamentally wrong with this. Something my uncle isn’t privy to. At least I don’t think he is.