The last thing in the world I needed was some mafia guy by the name ofSurgeonthinking I wanted to sleep with him. Even if he was stupidly attractive.
“Alright. Bad arm first,” he said, bunching up the sleeve of the shirt, then sliding it on. “You might want to consider a sling for a couple of days. It will prevent you from moving your arm too much and making the pain worse. I will grab one before we head out,” he told me as he buttoned up my shirt, then gathered the leg of the pants. “Step in,” he demanded.
And with one leg out of commission, I had no choice but to grab his shoulder to steady myself as I got into the pants.
“Alright. Give me two minutes to grab some shit.”
“Okay. Ah, do you have anything for… you know… my feet? City streets barefoot. God knows what I could contract.”
“Got some slipper socks. That’s the best I can do,” he said, motioning toward the cabinet behind me before making his way out of the room.
By the time he got back, carrying both a sling and my purse, I had the socks on and was ready to put this never-ending, nightmare of a night to bed.
“Ready to go?” Surgeon asked as he slipped the sling on me.
“Yeah.”
“Give me an address,” he said, leading me outside toward a waiting car. This time, though, it wasn’t the Maine guy standing there, it was someone younger.
“What are you doing? I asked when we idled in front of my apartment building a few minutes later and Surgeon reached for his door.
“Walking you up.”
After getting shot, kidnapped, operated on, and offered hush money, I was going to be walked up to my door by a member of the New York City mafia.
It didn’t matter that I probably seemed deranged.
I couldn’t help it.
A hysterical laugh bubbled up and burst out of me.
CHAPTER SIX
Salvatore
“What a clusterfuck,” Lorenzo said as he leaned back against the reception desk after hearing the fiasco.
“It wouldn’t be the first time we had to give someone hush money,” Emilio piped in, looking a lot more rested than the boss man himself, even though he’d probably crashed at Lorenzo’s place too.
The perks of the crying baby not being your responsibility, I guess.
“True,” Lorenzo agreed. “What do we know about her?”
“Cheap shoes. Job at a shitty diner. Living in a not great area,” I piped in.
“So she needs the money,” he concluded.
“That’s what I’m thinking, yeah.”
“Money troubles make for obedient witnesses,” Emilio said. “A couple extra grand will lighten her load a little. That relief will be addictive.”
“Unless she’s too moral for that,” Lorenzo said. “Some people can’t be bought.”
“I dunno. I get the feeling that she’s one bad day away from a breakdown,” I said. “She will accept this as a much-needed blessing.”
“Alright,” Lorenzo said, nodding. “Make the offer. And you can be the one to keep an eye and make the payments. Let me know if anything looks fucked. You’re too fucking valuable to go back to prison.”
With that, he was gone, leaving me to make the offer to Whitney, the somewhat lost-seeming teacher and overnight diner waitress.