Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“I think most.”
“Does that apply to you?”
I smirked. “We’ll find out next time I get shot.”
“Next time?”
“Oh, I get shot a lot.”
“Then you must not be very good at your job.”
My grin widened because she was just as sassy as I’d hoped she’d be. “If that’s the case, you’re going to be seeing a lot of me.”
For a split second, she seemed to be lost in thought, as if she didn’t catch what I’d said because she’d been distracted by how hard I stared at her. She brushed it off a second later by rising to her feet and collecting the bloody trash from Salvatore’s sutures. She tossed everything in the bin then went to the sink to wash her hands.
I gently let go of Salvatore, and he remained balanced in the chair like he wasn’t going to tilt sideways then break his head open on the tile floor and give Frankie an even bigger mess to clean up.
I stared at her back as she scrubbed her hands and underneath the nails, which were painted a brilliant blue.
“So, you’re a doctor.”
“A nurse,” she corrected.
“Salvatore called you doctor.”
“Because these idiots don’t know the difference.” She turned off the faucet then dried her hands with the colorful towel and turned back to me.
I was right beside her, leaning against the counter and seeing the way the light struck her face through the open window directly over the sink. “Wolfe.”
Her eyes shifted back and forth between mine. “Frankie.”
“What’s your real name?”
“Francesca.”
“Pretty.”
“Yours?”
I smirked. “Maybe after we get to know each other a bit, I’ll tell you.”
“Maybe?” she challenged.
“Gotta earn it, sweetheart.”
With a suave level of confidence I’d never seen a woman pull off, she said, “And how would you like me to earn it?”
Ooh…she’s into me.
“What—what happened?” Salvatore jerked in the chair and nearly toppled over. He lifted his arm and looked at it. “Oh shit.”
Frankie left my side at the counter and walked over to him. “Be more careful, alright? That’s the third suture kit I’ve used in a week. We’re going for a record.”
He continued to eye his gauze. “Gonna hook me up with the good shit?”
“No. But I’m going to give you some antibiotics.”
“That’s not the good shit.”
“Would you rather get an infection and then have surgery? Because you’ll definitely get the good shit then.”
He gave a sigh. “Alright, thanks.” He got to his feet, his face still as pale as snow.
“You’ll be fine, alright?” she said in a kinder tone. “Just watch it next time. You’ll probably have a scar.”
“Yeah, I should get back to work,” he said. “The truck’s probably loaded.” He walked out.
The second he was gone, I was aware that I was alone with Frankie. Two open archways led to the rest of the house, but it was the first time someone else wasn’t in the room with us.
She turned back to me. “How’s the warehouse?”
“Boring as fuck,” I said honestly. “But I’ll pay my dues.”
“My father doesn’t trust you.”
“And he’s smart not to.” Not that I had any nefarious intention toward the Mancini family. But I definitely had less-than-honorable intentions toward this specific Mancini family member.
“Do you think—”
“Frankie.”
She turned to the open archway when she heard her father’s voice.
He must have spotted her in the kitchen because he stepped inside. His expression was a lot kinder than it was a second later when he realized I was in there with her. His eyes landed on my face and stared for a hard second.
The room filled with unspoken tension.
“What happened with Salvatore?” He addressed his daughter but looked at me.
“Cut himself in the warehouse.”
His eyes stayed on me. “And how did that happen?”
“He helped me with the crates—”
“And why was he helping you?” Don Mancini stepped toward me, turning his back on Frankie and facing off with me in the kitchen.
I continued to lean against the counter, arms crossed over my chest, several inches taller than his six feet of height.
“Because you’re too weak and lazy to do it yourself?” He was ten years older than me but in great shape, lean and toned like he was a runner and didn’t eat too many biscotti in the morning. He infected the room with hostility that he didn’t have to work hard to produce.
I was impressed but not intimidated.
“Dad,” Frankie said in a warning tone.
“Leave us,” he said without looking at her.
She stayed.
I didn’t look at her, my eyes on her father, but I wanted to tell her to leave. I could handle her father like a man, no problem. Didn’t need a woman to fight my battles for me—especially against her father.
Her footsteps sounded as she walked out.
He continued to show me his quiet ferocity. “You belong in the warehouse, not in my house. Is that understood?”
My eyes flicked back and forth between his. “Just wanted to get him to the doctor—”