Luca immediately released her. "It’s okay. It’s okay..."
"No, it fucking isn’t," she gasped, bending around the pain. "Jesus Christ, Luca."
"I know, love." His voice softened. "I just need to pop it back in. It will only hurt for a second." He reached for her hand again, moving more slowly this time. "Trust me." He studied the injury properly. The thumb sat at an unnatural angle, but the problem was not only at the base. The second joint had shifted too.
His stomach dropped. "Oh, crap."
Veronica’s eyes widened. "What?"
He turned her hand slightly, his touch feather-light. She hissed through her teeth. "We need a hospital."
"What happened?"
"Nothing. Nothing," Luca said quickly. "You did good, baby."
Her mouth trembled. "Luca—"
"You did exactly what you needed to do." He drew her carefully against his chest, cradling her injured hand between them so nothing could strike it. "Come here."
Veronica melted into him, her remaining strength abandoning her all at once.
Luca pressed his lips to her hair. "I’m never letting you out of my sight ever again."
"Luca, you need to get checked out."
Blood still slipped from the wounds David had made, running over his wrist before dripping from his fingers. His shirt sleeve was soaked, his face pale beneath the fury.
"I’ll be fine," he said.
"You are literally leaking."
"I have had worse." He tightened his good arm around her waist and looked down at her legs. "Can you stand?"
Veronica tested her weight carefully, leaning heavily against him. "I think so..."
"Come on. Put on the shirt." Luca tugged Marco’s T-shirt over Veronica’s head, extremely careful with her. The fabric swallowed her whole, hanging almost to her knees. He bent and scooped her into his arms.
"Luca," she protested weakly, "you’re bleeding."
"I need this, okay?"
Exhaustion had finally found the courage to overpower her. Veronica rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her out of the warehouse.


VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABEL
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Undressed By The Mafia God