Page 69 of Cartel Devil
“You’ve seen his size. He won’t need to. He’s very convincing. He can even be charming in a pinch.”
Everything next is another blur. Tomás barely has the SUV in park before he’s scrambling out and bolting for the doors. Hospital security tries to step in front of him, but he plows through them. I hear him yelling for help as he grabs a wheelchair and spins it around. I’m already out and running around the back of the vehicle. Each step sends searing pain through my hip. By the time our guard returns, I’m lifting Tre into my arms. Tomás holds the wheelchair steady as I lower Tre, who’s clinging to my neck and shaking her head.
“Don’t let me go.”
“I have to.”
“No! They can take me from you that way. No, Joaco. No!”
I glance at the hospital doors. Someone in scrubs and the two security officers hurry toward us.
“Okay, chica.”
I lift Tre back into my arms and run with her toward the ER entrance. While it’s usually a fireman carry, I’ve hefted all the men in my family into my arms. Tre’s a feather compared to them, but the run while holding someone has never felt longer.
I burst through the doors, and heads shoot up as people gape at me. I probably look like an enraged bull carrying a lamb as I enter the lobby.
“What happened?”
“A car hit us while we were crossing the street. She’s nine weeks pregnant and bleeding.”
I barely remember Tía Margherita’s explanation that pregnancy is counted from the first day of the last period, not the date of conception—even though we know exactly when that was. I add two weeks on. The nurse’s eyebrows shoot up, and she calls out orders for a bed. One appears, and I have no choice but to put Tre down despite how she fights to hold onto me.
“Sir—”
“I’m her husband. I stay with her.”
The guards hover nearby, ready to block me. But they’ll be no more successful with me than they were with Tomás. He was careful not to hurt either of them. I won’t give them such courtesy.
“We need to get her settled, and you need to complete paperwork. We’ll call you back.”
“That’s not fucking happening.”
It’s Tre who speaks up. I notice she has her purse tucked against her side. She wears it cross-body. I know she has a gun in it since she showed me this morning. She reaches for the bag, and I cover her hand with mine while I shake my head. It’s bad enough we set off the metal detectors as we came inside. I don’t need her confirming it isn’t an artificial hip or something that set it off.
“Ma’am, we—”
“My uncle is Tommaso Vizzini.”
Not everyone in Boston knows the Vizzini family. But considering they’re major donors to many medical facilities across the city, it’s no surprise when the nurse stops arguing.
I hold Tre’s hand as we pass through another set of massive metal doors. A doctor joins the nurse, and she repeats the reason we’re here. The doctor glances at me before focusing on Tre. He asks a series of questions about her pain level and location. He asks about her pregnancy and any complications. Each question results in her digging her nails deeper into the back of my hand until I see them draw blood.
“Sir, you’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.”
“You need to be looked at. Ma’am—”
“I said I’m fine. Take care of my wife.”
Tre shifts her attention from the doctor to me and finally takes a long look.
“Oh, fuck, Joaco. You need a doctor. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It’s a couple scratches.”
“But your hip—”
