Page 6 of Queen of Misfortune (Shadows of Redemption)
“Go! Now!” Liam barks.
Finally, they scatter, a flurry of activity to get what I need and move Donovan.
“Where can we take him?” I ask.
“There’s a room over here. It’s for servants, but Niko uses it for visitors.” Liam leads the way, and two of Niko's men carefully scoop up Donovan's limp form. I follow behind as they bring Donovan into the room.
Once he’s settled on the bed, I open Donovan’s shirt to inspect the wound. I’m no expert, but the entrance appears to be right of center. That’s good, I think. I mean, it didn’t hit his heart. But there is a great deal of blood. That is a concern.
My fingers probe the wound gently, searching for the bullet.
“Here are the supplies.” One of Niko’s men places alcohol, towels, and bandages on the side table.
"Okay, Toady, let's see about keeping you alive." I take a breath to steady my shaky hands. I start by pouring alcohol onto a towel to clean the wound.
"Always did like a woman who takes charge," Donovan’s weak voice murmurs.
I glance down, catching the ghost of Donovan's infamous smirk before it fades into a grimace of pain.
"Idiot," I mutter, even as my heart stutters. "You'll owe me for saving you from being six feet under."
"Counting on it.” His eyes flutter closed once more.
With the tweezers, I press down on the area around the bullet wound. His chest rises and falls steadily under my touch, which reassures me that I’m not making anything worse.
As I prod gently, seeking the bullet lodged within him, the memory of first meeting him flashes in my mind.
I’d just arrivedin New York with the goal of finding Elena and bringing her back to Italy with me. She’d made a plan to escape a forced marriage, but when she didn’t arrive, I knew something had gone wrong. Then she called to say Niko Leone had kidnapped her off the altar. Terror struck deep at the idea thatIl Soldato della Mortehad kidnapped her. Still, I was determined to save and protect her.
I’d ordered a ride, pleased it was waiting once I exited the airport.
"Welcome to New York," he'd said, voice smooth as silk.
But we hadn’t driven very far before I realized this was no ordinary ride. He’d pulled off into a secluded area and zip-tied me. Perhaps I should have considered him a serial killer, but given the world I grew up in, I knew he was Mafia. The question was whether he was with my father, in which case I was dead, or the Abates or Leones.
“Who are you? What do you want?” I demanded, my pulse hammering in my ears from fear.
“Donovan. I don’t want anything. My Boss, on the other hand?—”
“Who’s your Boss? Do you know who I am? My husband is Don Conti.”
Donovan smirked at me through the rearview mirror. “How do you think I knew to pick you up? Of course I know who you are.”
“Jerk. Who is your Boss?”
“You sure are loud. Are you like this with Conti? Why does he put up with it?”
“Because he’s a real man, not a Toady like you.”
He laughed. He actually laughed. It made me hate him more. How dare he be amused by me when I was being serious?
Once in the city, he pulled into an alley. He got out of the SUV and opened the back door with that stupid grin.
“Behave.”
“No. Why should I? You’re just going to kill me anyway. Why make it easy for you?”
“There’s no plan to kill you at this time.”