Lucia looked up at me. “I’m on my way, Izzy,” she said into her phone. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.” She hung up.

“Salvatore, I have to go to them.”

I nodded. “We’ll get dressed and go.”

Lucia blushed, and Marco and Rainey awkwardly left the room. I went into her bedroom and chose some clothes: a dress and a sweater in case it was cool at the hospital. I helped her get her clothes on before getting dressed myself. I handed her the crutches that had just been delivered.

“Thanks.”

Since she had never used crutches before—and there was no time to practice—I ended up carrying Lucia down the stairs—it was just faster that way—and asked Marco to follow us.

“Did your sister know anything?” I asked Lucia once we were in the car and on our way.

“No. Only that he was in critical condition. He took two bullets, one to the stomach, the other in his shoulder. She’s a mess.”

I checked my watch. “It’s about an hour’s drive from here without traffic.”

“Crap.”

My mind raced with thoughts of who’d done it, and I couldn’t shake the feeling the assailant was closer to home than I’d like once I’d learned the truth. But we’d deal with that if and when we had to. Right now, I had to get Lucia to the hospital and find out what the hell was going on.

18

Lucia

Salvatore made call after call as he drove us to the hospital, first to his uncle, then to Marco who tailed us, then to Dominic. Dominic didn’t pick up his call. He also arranged for security to be added to the hospital, for which I was grateful.

I tried Isabella twice but never got hold of her. With traffic, by the time we got to the hospital, it was well over an hour later. Salvatore’s phone rang once more just as he parked the car. He checked the display, and I glimpsed the name. It was his father.

“I have to take this.”

I nodded, opening my door and setting my crutches outside. What a time to sprain my ankle!

“Marco,” Salvatore called out once Marco had parked his car. “Take Lucia upstairs, and stay with her until I get there.”

Marco nodded and took my arm, helping me out of the car.

“I got it,” I snapped, hating feeling helpless. I glanced at Salvatore, who walked away with the phone to his ear. Marco followed me into the hospital. At reception, I found out where they’d taken Luke. I went as quickly as I could to the trauma unit and found Isabella holding Effie’s hand, her face one of frustration and worry, her eyes weary and red.

“Izzy.”

She turned, a look of relief quickly replaced by surprise at my state.