Gio and I moved back a step, out of earshot.
"Avi said she was hit in the shoulder and hip," I told him.
"If you gotta be hit, those aren't bad places," Gio said, voice tight.
"Yeah, I'm sorry she got hit, though," I said, meaning it more than he could know.
"That's the job," he said.
"Still," I said.
"Your kid. He okay?"
"Yeah. He needs a scan of his head. Whacked it off the ground when your sister jumped on him to shield him."
"She's a good egg, that one," Gio said, then moved forward to talk to the doctor as he came out.
She needed surgery.
Which meant I needed to wait.
All the while trying to tell myself the burning hole in my stomach was benign, just an employer concerned for the health of his employee.
The problem was, it was getting harder and harder simply to think of her as that.
Chapter Ten
Alessa
Getting shot was just adding insult to injury.
I had no interest in going ice skating.
My first winter in New York, I was making my way out of the Morelli house, and slipped on some black ice, fracturing my wrist when I tried to catch my fall.
Ever since then, I held what I considered a healthy respect for ice. Meaning I didn't willingly walk on it unless I had no other choice.
So the idea of strapping a blade on my feet, and trying to dance on the damn ice was nowhere near within my comfort zone.
But what can I say? The kid had tenacity. And he knew what my button was. So when he started picking at me about being a chicken, well, I had to prove him wrong, didn't I?
I had mixed feelings about Santi not being able to make it.
On the one hand, I was relieved that he wouldn't see me make an idiot of myself. On the other, there was always this low, baseline disappointment whenever Santi said he couldn't be around for some event or another.
I wanted to tell myself it was because Avi loved spending time with his dad.
I knew better, of course, but I put in a valiant effort to make myself believe that.
The ice skating had been every bit as awful as I'd anticipated. For me. Who fell about every five feet. I was pretty sure my ass was horrifically bruised. As was my ego as Avi skated circles around me.
But, hey, he had a great time. And I'd decided we were going to this hot new ice cream place to get giant sundaes with all sorts of toppings. Even though it was like forty degrees out.
"Ice cream has no season," I told Avi when he pointed out how cold we both were from the rink.
We had just stepped out of Winter Village, had paused near the big fountain so Avi could tie his shoe.
I'd just been looking around.
And thank God I had been.
Because it would have been too easy to miss a couple of random guys standing outside of a massive tourist attraction.
If I hadn't been looking, they would have taken us both out before I could even move. But I caught the motion as their hands went inside their jackets at the same time.
I saw a glint of metal.
"Avi, get down!" I yelled, starting to turn as one of the bullets pierced into my shoulder.
With no other choice, I fell on Avi, needing to protect him fully as the shots continued to ring out.
Another bullet burned into my hip as I was falling, leaving me letting out a string of curses as I tried to push up on my good arm, lift some of my weight off Avi as the chaos around us rang out. People screamed and ran.
"Avi, reach into my left butt pocket and get my phone," I demanded. "Please," I added, closing my eyes tight at the burning pain in two separate sides of my body.
The kid was trembling with wild, terrified eyes. But he did it. And he dialed his dad. And he held the phone up to my ear to let me rattle off the descriptions before I let myself mope about the pain while Avi talked to his dad.
The next thing I knew, the cops and paramedics were pulling me off Avi, checking my wounds and vitals.
Then we were in the ambulance.
An openly crying Avi sat down near my feet, a little too far out of reach.
"Avi, man, come on. You know two little bullets can't take me down," I told him, but he was too upset to really listen.
His dad would be with him soon.
As well as half of the Costa Family members, most likely.
We'd been separated at the hospital, both of us needing to be looked over. I'd called out to him that everything would be okay, but he looked shut down and disassociated sitting on his stretcher.
I was rolled into a room where my clothes were cut off of me as the doctors cleaned and inspected the wounds.