31

Portia
I take a sip of tea that’s gone cold. The same cup Lenore gave me hours ago. Wonder where she is now. She’s so worried about him. I saw it on her face.
I didn’t know she was Alec’s aunt. When Alec and our small party got back to the island, I saw that he had caught a bullet, but it was a flesh wound. Still, seeing it, seeing her peel the shirt off his bloody skin and watching his face, I know it hurt like hell. It may have hurt her as much, from the look on her face.
They’d called a doctor in. She said Callahan and the other men may need him when they’re back.
When. Not if.
But before the doctor got to the house – because we had to wait for transport by either boat or chopper – Lenore had cleaned the wound. I just sat there and watched.
Blood doesn’t bother me. It’s strange, in situations like tonight, I’m just really quiet. Calm even. At least on the outside. I’m not sure, maybe it’s that I’m slow to process what’s happening, to absorb the shock of it.
Even after all this time, it is still shocking to hear gunfire considering I was born into a cartel family.
I see my uncle’s face again, the moment his body jerked, and he grabbed hold of me. His eyes had gone wide, filled with fear. But they were also remote. The look before death. Before violent death. Maybe it’s a godsend.
A gift. A mercy he didn’t deserve.
I didn’t see my father killed but I watched my mom as she died. Her eyes looked the same as his. I swipe my eyes with the heels of my hands and drink another sip of cold tea. I’m sitting on the floor of Callahan’s bedroom leaning against the wall, staring out the open window at the still dark sky. I should close it. It’s cold but I don’t care. Cerberus is beside me, keeping vigil with me. He’s quiet. I wonder if he senses his master may be in trouble.
Maybe dead.
God.
What if Callahan dies?
No. I can’t think about that. It can’t happen.
They wouldn’t let me bring Nathan upstairs. Only let me down to see him when I screamed bloody murder. What if someone had gotten to him? He’s an easy target in that cell. But he was all right.
Calmer than me when the guards dragged me back upstairs.
What will happen to us if Callahan dies?
Just then the sound of the chopper’s blades cut through the night. I’m up so fast I tip the cup in my hand, spilling tea on the carpet.
Cerberus gives an anxious yelp, his tail wagging once. He remains beside me as I get to the window.
The helicopter angles toward the roof, blowing my hair in my face. I go to the door, Cerberus at my heels. Alec is dozing on a chair outside my door. I don’t know why he wouldn’t just go to bed. I wasn’t going anywhere. He stirs awake when he hears me.
“The chopper,” I say.
He’s on his feet in an instant and I follow him in the opposite direction from the stairs. We take several turns and climb two sets of stairs. All I can think is, please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead.
Please God don’t let him be dead.
And then before I even see him, I hear him.
“I’m fine,” Callahan growls to someone in his usual annoyed way and relief floods through me.
I’m grateful for Cerberus’s bark as he rushes Callahan coming around the corner. I have a chance to school my features, tamp down my obvious relief.
He’s my enemy.
He. Is. My. Enemy. I have to remember this.
Yes, he may be the lesser of all the evils, but evils that’s only because he needs me. For the moment at least. I
know how the cartel works. I understood why my brothers were anxious to get me and Fernando married.
And my uncle’s words from earlier ring in my ears.
Callahan straightens from his crouch where he was petting Cerberus. I see the pain this causes on his face, and I see how he’s holding his arm against his side. The blood that stains his tuxedo shirt is obvious. He’d had his hand pressed there earlier too. I remember when he’d missed a step as he’d crouched around me, protecting me. Was that when he was hit? Did he save me from a bullet only to take it himself?
His jacket is gone. He looked nice tonight. Cleaned up and sparkling.
Then his eyes meet mine and I feel a rush of something I can’t or won’t name surge through me.
He’s using me. Just like every one of them. That’s all.
“Callahan,” Antonio says as Callahan comes to me.
Antonio got to the house about an hour ago and has left me alone in Callahan’s room. That surprised me but I also saw the worry in his eyes.
The near panic. He loves his brother.
“Slow down, man. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” Antonio says.
“I’m fine,” Callahan grumbles, stopping in front of me.
He reaches out to touch my face with his good arm, just staring at me for a long minute, thumb caressing my cheek. And I realize I’m doing the same. Staring at him. He blinks, slides his hand to my neck, my arm.
He looks me over. “The blood.”
“It’s not mine. I’m not hurt,” I say quickly.
He nods, looks relieved.
From beside him I see Antonio’s expression harden in my periphery. Callahan grits his teeth, and I can tell he’s in tremendous pain. His face drains of color and he closes his hand over my shoulder. In the next moment, I feel his weight.
“Help!” I cry out as he stumbles into me. I reach out to catch him as if I could keep him upright.
Antonio grabs hold of him.
“I’m fine,” Callahan grits out, straightening, shoving Antonio off. His face contorts as he manages the pain.
“Callahan!” It’s Lenore. She rushes toward him from the top of the stairs, looks him over and then over to Dante. “Get him to his room. Doctor Marino is waiting.”
I’m forgotten in the chaos and watch them go, watch more men shuffle down from the roof. They all look like they’ve been through a war.
“Come on,” Alec says to me.
I turn to find him waiting at the door we just came through. I nod and follow him back down to Callahan’s bedroom where I watch Antonio and Dante ease him onto the bed. The doctor who’d come earlier tears Callahan’s shirt open.
“Get the dog out,” Antonio orders. “And the girl.”
“I’m staying.”
“Get her out,” he tells Alec.
“She stays,” Callahan says, voice low, but the authority in it no different than if he had roared.
I raise my chin, give Antonio a defiant look before nearing the bed to see the damage.
The doctor brings a needle toward Callahan’s arm.
“No,” Callahan says, giving a shake of his head.
“For the pain.”
“No. Get the bullet out. Sew me up. I need to get up.”
“I also need to reset your shoulder. Again. You’re not getting up,” the doctor says, putting the needle away, muttering something about how he’s always been stubborn.
I laugh. I can’t help it. It’s the adrenaline leaving my system.
Callahan meets my eyes and opens the palm of his good hand.
“Come here, Little Kitten.”
I go to him. He looks me over while I watch the doctor cut away what’s left of his other sleeve. He’s bleeding from his side and his arm lays at a strange angle.
“Why didn’t you clean up?” Callahan asks me.
I look down at myself. “I don’t know.”
“I’ll reset your shoulder first. It’s going to hurt but maybe it’ll teach you a lesson,” the doctor says.
“Although I doubt it.” Callahan smiles and I wonder how much effort it takes him to do that. “For what I pay you, you could pretend to be nice.”
“You should pay me double for the number of times I’ve sewn you back together for Christ’s sake.”
The doctor looks at me, gives me an expression as if asking if I’m ready for something.
I bend down, turn Callahan’s face to mine. “You’re going to look like Frankenstein soon.”
Callahan grins, opens his mouth to say something and I know the instant the doctor slips his shoulder back into place. I see it on Callahan’s face, see it in how he grits his teeth and hear it in the curse he mutters sending the doctor straight to hell.
“There,” the doctor says.
Callahan turns to him. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten how to do it,” he teases. I have no idea how he has the energy. He looks half-dead.
“I’ve had to reset this shoulder what, three times now?” The doctor tells me, that last part directed to Callahan.
“Four. You’re getting old.” Callahan’s eyes flutter closed.
“What’s happening?” I ask, panicked.
“Shock. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He’s healthy as that monster dog he’s got out there.”
As if Cerberus has heard and understood, he howls from out in the hallway.
“I need to get the bullet out and clean him up, see what else I need to sew back together. You can go get some rest.” He looks me over.
“Shower first, maybe.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Go,” Antonio says to me and I wonder where he was. He’s the only one who doesn’t look like he’s come from battle. “I’ll stay with him until
the doctor finishes.”
“I can – ”
“Just go, Portia,” he grits out. The way he says my name, it’s not as hateful as when we’ve talked before. “I’ll stay with my brother.”
No, not hateful. He sounds defeated.
I rub my face, nod, and walk out of the bedroom to find Alec in his chair and Cerberus anxiously half-sitting staring at the door.
“He’ll be fine,” I tell them both, petting Cerberus.
Alec nods, relieved.
“Was it Fernando?” I ask him. Or the cartel. I don’t ask that part though.
“Not sure.” But I get the feeling he knows something.
“I’m going to shower. I’m just in here.” I point to Elizabeth’s room. “I promise not to go anywhere so just get some rest or something. You look like shit, Alec.”
“I’ll be here.”
Stubborn as Callahan.
“Suit yourself.” I walk into my borrowed bedroom feeling like an intruder in this little girl’s room. A dead girl’s room. Killed when she was young enough to play princess. I think about Nathan down in that cell. At least he’s alive.
I rub my face and close the door behind me. I’m dead tired but I need to shower and get my uncle’s crusted blood off me before I lay down. And what I need to focus on now is getting Nathan out of that cell.
Whether it was the cartel or Fernando, it won’t be the last time and if Callahan doesn’t survive the next attack, then Nathan’s as good as dead locked in that cell.