His thoughts spiraled, jumping from relief to guilt to fear in an endless loop. She could have been gone. She could have bled out while he was thousands of miles away.
His mind was filled with images of pain radiating through her body in ways he couldn’t even imagine.
"What part was she shot?" he asked finally.
"In the thigh." Marco answered.
Luca’s head lolled back against the seat. His breath shook as the information sank in, each word hammering at his chest. "God..." he whispered. "Oh God..."
Marco could feel Luca’s tension radiating. "Luca? I had to dig the bullet out."
Luca’s eyes snapped to Marco, disbelief and rage crashing into each other in a violent storm. "Why?! Why the fuck would you do that?! Why in the fucking hell would you put her through that????!!! You fucking asshole!!!"
The kick that smashed into the back of Marco’s seat carried all the weight of his panic, his helplessness, and his fear. If he had been sitting beside Marco instead of behind him, Luca knew without a doubt he would have strangled the man, just to vent the raw, scorching anger that consumed him.
"Because it was your gun!"
"What?!"
"I didn’t know if there was history to it. It was your gun, Luca. If the doctors got their hands on it, it would get to the police. It was a risk I could not take!" Marco tried to explain.
"Who the fuck shot her?!"
"Your wife!"
Every thought fractured, spiraling uncontrollably. He didn’t speak for a long moment. His mind was a cyclone of disbelief, rage, and shock.
He wanted to scream, to shake the world into telling him this wasn’t real. "She’s here?" Luca asked finally.
"Yes, she came in with Don just a day after you left. They said they had a wedding. Julian was supposed to tell you but I am guessing he didn’t." Marco answered.
"Do you have my guns?" Luca asked.
"No! We can pick them up at the office but Luca...you need to think this through." Marco’s words were calm but he knew the consequences better than Luca did. He knew what would happen if Luca acted too fast, too angry. This was the Vitale family he would be going up against not just his own father.
"Stop talking. Take me to her."
*****
"Are you blind?" Bianca snapped. Her eyes narrowed, scanning him.
"God, you are gorgeous..." Cassidy whispered under his breath. He had to maintain the illusion, had to sell the accident.
The driver’s hand came down roughly on Cassidy’s shoulder, snapping him back to the present. "Hey!"
Cassidy’s hands lifted slowly, open in mock surrender. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I wasn’t looking. Can I...what can I do? You want to clean up somewhere?"
Bianca recoiled slightly. "Get away from me!" she snapped.
"Look, I made a mistake. I’d like to properly apologise for it." Cassidy said. He kept one hand raised, the other adjusting the collar of his jacket.
"How about buy me another dress, you fool?" Bianca snapped.
Wow, he thought. Luca really had this one picked out, didn’t he? "I admit, I am a fool. A clumsy fool. Come on, let me make this up to you. I’ll let you insult me some more. But I must tell you right now, I cannot afford that dress."
Bianca’s gaze flicked over him quickly, assessing, measuring. He could feel it in the way her eyes lingered just a fraction longer than polite, the tilt of her chin, the subtle narrowing of her eyes. Threat level assessment, he thought. Not that he was worried — it was part of the game, part of the dance he had been trained to navigate.
(Brought to you by Jennifer Willard)

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