Page 80 of Ruthless

When Dante informed me that Jackon had died from his injuries, the news came as a shock. I could have sworn his injuries weren’t severe enough to kill him. I can accept being wrong, but the outcome still stings. Losing a patient always does.

The day wears on as usual. The chef, Gino, suffered a third-degree burn while making cornetti for breakfast, so I get him treated and let him relax in one of the beds while he gives his sous chef strict orders about lunch preparations.

After that, I follow up with a guard who suffered a bullet to the lateral aspect of his lower calf. His injury, like Dante’s, contained a clean entrance and exit wound, so his recovery was quick and easy. I change out his dressings for fresh ones and, once he’s settled with water and pain meds, I update his paperwork while Angela and a nurse named Jasmine tend to the trickle of new arrivals.

The hours fly by as we help with everything from fevers to foot pain to tinnitus.

Near the end of my shift, two guards haul another into the clinic. His name is Perez, and this is hissecondtrip to the fifth floor within a week. He’s been beaten to a pulp…Dante’s handiwork. His eyes won’t focus, he’s delirious and muttering to himself, and he has a concerning contusion on his temple. We don’t possess the necessary equipment to diagnose—let alone treat—a potential brain bleed, which means he may require hospitalization.

Dammit, Dante.

Perez groans, and the guards hold him down so I can administer a sedative into his upper arm. “No more! Please stop! I-I don’t know anything, I swear.” When his voice cracks, I peer down at him in alarm. He thinks he’s still upstairs with Dante. I ignore the tight knot forming in my stomach while Jasmine and I assess his airway, breathing, and circulation.

After we’ve gathered the relevant supplies, the sedation kicks in and the man calms enough for us to get him in a supine position on a bed. I’m stitching his head closed when Perez bends over the side to vomit onto the floor, a clear sign of concussion at the very least. Shit. I meet Angela’s eyes, and she nods before rushing away to find Luca. He and Marco will have to arrange a way to get Perez to the hospital and conjure up a convincing cover story for what happened to him.

Once Jasmine and I have stabilized him as much as possible and he’s comfortable and still, I step back, my breathing coming in quick gasps.

“Are you okay?” Jasmine’s onyx eyes dim at my probably less than reassuring smile.

“I’m just….I’m going to go get some air.”

I’m hurrying for the door before she has a chance to reply. Weaving around the beds, I shove open the curtain that serves as a partition. My heart is beating in my throat as I tear off my mask and gloves, tossing them in the trash on my way out the door.

Those, too, will be burned later. We can’t leave evidence lying around when the cops might decide to raid the place at any moment. I unleash a half-hysterical laugh. It’s impossible to forget what’s happening here when I’m treating the victims of Dante’s unhinged wrath.

When I became a nurse, I took an oath to help people, but here I am instead, aiding the man causing the damage. Thethought hitches my breath, and I press a hand against the wall as I fight off an intense wave of anxiety. My nails find my inner wrists and drag along the skin. The sting and the repetitive motion give me an anchor, but it’s still another minute before I gain control.

“Don’t run off like that, Sara. You’ll give me a heart attack.” Angela appears behind me, hooking her arm through mine. “Marco will kill me if he finds out I left you alone out here. Jasmine said you looked upset. You want to talk about it?”

I decline the offer with a head shake. Ever since the night of the attack, Angela and my interactions have seemed strained. I tell myself to give her grace for disappearing on me. Maybe the townhouse siege spooked her more than I originally believed, despite how cool she seemed most of the time.

She exhales loudly before pivoting us back in the direction of the clinic. Our arm-in-arm march reminds me of Mount Dinaric and how we used to return to the nurses’ station following a break. Neither of us was ever in a hurry to jump into work again after sharing a stress-free fifteen minutes of laughter and camaraderie.

The yearning for those days, for simpler times, almost cracks me wide open.

After a long moment of quiet shuffling, Angela hesitates just outside the clinic’s entrance. “I never got a chance to apologize for the day those assholes broke into the house.”

I rear back. “Apologize for what?”

Angela shifts, uncomfortable. “For leaving you. You’re my best friend, and I got scared and bailed without you.”

With her simple admission, all the weirdness between us dissipates like dust in the wind. I bump her with my shoulder. “Don’t be stupid. We were under siege. What were you going to do? Create a diversion? Show them your boobs?”

She chuckles, and the tightness in her shoulders eases. “That only workedonetime in Miami on spring break, like, a million years ago.” She smirks. “Ididget us out of paying for those tequila sunrises, though.”

I snicker at the memory. “See? You’ve always been a master of distraction. We should do that again. Not the topless tequila thing. Miami. Or the Bahamas. You know…get away for a while. After all this.”

I swallow past the lump clogging my throat, and the amusement fades from Angela’s expression too.

“How do you do it, Ang? How do you…survive this life? For every step forward, I’m yanked three steps back. I can’t seem to keep up with any of you.”

Angela inhales sharply through her nose before exhaling and pulling me the rest of the way into the clinic. “You’ll be fine.” Angela pats my arm in a gesture that almost strikes me as condescending. “You’ve just gotta learn to embrace the chaos.”

If anything, her answer leaves me feeling even more out of my depth. I don’tembracechaos…I survive it by the skin of my teeth. Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be good enough this time around.

With a heaviness in my chest, and more unsure of myself and my place here than ever before, I return to Perez to prepare him for transport. Luca helps me guide the injured guard downstairs and out the side entrance where Gregor waits with his car.

Once the black vehicle disappears around the corner, I resolve to finish out my shift with my head held high. So maybe I’m not some badass mafioso. Maybe I’m the woman who almost pees her pants when facing down a pointed gun. I’m still a damn good nurse, and if that’s what Dante needs right now, that’s exactly what I’ll be.