“He’s got access. He will bring me the blood or he’ll spend the rest of his life running from me. Be sure he gets that message.”

Sal pulled out his cell phone.

Uncaring of how it looked, Leo ripped the gown apart to find where the bullets had hit. One had grazed her head, another had gone through her shoulder, a third had embedded in the muscle of her calf. Terror froze her features as she gripped him. He tore his coat off and wrapped it around her to hold off the shock.

“Why would you jump in front of a gun for me?” But he knew the answer. She’d confessed her love for him a long time ago. The words had never made it past his own lips. But she had to know. How could she not see it?

Her voice came out shaky and weak. “I-I thought some day you might love me back.” The last part faded out as she said it; she was already getting too weak to talk.

“You think I don’t love you?” Perhaps what he did to her downstairs was too confusing for her to ever hope it could happen inside love.

The nurses rushed toward him to help.

He held up a hand. “No! I’ve got her. A through and through and a graze and one in her calf muscle. Nothing vital hit. It’s the blood loss. Set up the operating theater. Get the machines and anesthesia and the IV fluids ready to go. Bring all the artificial blood from the lab. And prepare for a live transfusion.” He’d never been so happy to be a universal donor.

The women scrambled toward the house.

It was risky doing a live transfusion and then operating. He’d have to be careful not to weaken himself too much. He had to hope the blood guy got there in time.

He couldn’t stop this bleeding, he had to get her to the operating theater now.

Leo flung her over his shoulder, fireman-style. He strode swiftly with grim determination to the separate entrance at the back of the house. Family and friends jumped out of his way, looks of horror and pity on their faces. Looks that said, poor bastard doesn’t realize she’s not going to make it.

Her blood ran down his back, soaking his linen shirt as she went limp.

20

The next day, Leo sat in his den with Angelo over copious amounts of alcohol. “Well?” Leo asked. Since the previous day, he’d been a crazed lunatic, intent on revenge and blood and death for the bullets that had been meant for him but had hit the woman he loved instead.

“It was Emilio’s cousin. When I caught up to him, he wouldn’t talk. Davide and I had to overpower him and tie him down. It took hours before I got the full story.”

“And?”

“You won’t like it. Caprice told him what you did to Gemma’s husband.”

Leo paced the floor, regret and the weight of responsibility crushing him. Caprice should never have been at their family Christmas. But even so, if he hadn’t played with her, used her body and screwed with her mind, she might not have gone to Emilio’s cousin set on instigating violence.