Chase smirked. “Don’t you worry about that.”
“Disgusting,” I muttered.
“Says the soon-to-be father.” Nixon said dryly.
I glared in Sergio’s direction and answered, “Right. Soon-to-be… father.”
If he was bluffing about anything he didn’t have any tells. Instead, he simply met my stare with one of his own.
One that told me.
I wasn’t getting shit.
CHAPTER TEN
Dogs can smell fear… so can people.
Mo
MY HANDS WOULDN’T stop shaking. I blamed it on the shooting. Since when have I ever been terrified of getting shot at? Never. I’d been around this life since as far back as I could remember.
Funny, how it wasn’t the violence that caused me to tremble.
But him.
I wanted wine so badly it wasn’t even funny. Irritated, I followed the girls into the kitchen and waited for the guys to get home.
It was a tie between who I wanted to strangle first. Mil was stringing so many curses together it was hard to decipher if she was upset at the situation or at Chase. Trace spent her time soothing Mil while giving me the, “Are you okay?” eyes.
After about ten minutes the doors burst open, and the guys barreled in. Chase stumbled a bit as Tex helped him into one of the chairs.
My husband, God it still sounded wrong, ran out of the room to grab our kit while Nixon tore the rest of Chase’s shirt away from his body.
“Mil.” Chase clenched his teeth. “I’m fine!”
“You bastard!” She punched him in his good arm. “Stop taking bullets!”
“Right.” Chase snorted and lifted his head to the ceiling, closing his eyes. “Because it was a choice!”
“Well!” Mil huffed. “Damn it, Chase, just try not to get shot every two weeks. It’s irritating as hell!”
“You’re irritating as hell!” he fired back.
“Good one, must be losing your touch with all that blood loss.”
“Mil,” he warned, then his eyes flashed as her breathing increased.
“Could you guys not eye screw each other right now?” Nixon swore and ran his fingers through his messy hair. “It’s going to be hard enough to get Chase to sit still Mil, so if you could stop making it so that he wants to do you on the kitchen table, we’d all really appreciate that.”
Mil flushed and crossed her arms over her chest. “Sorry.”
“No you aren’t.” Chase leaned forward and winked
She licked her lips.
I groaned into my hands. The last thing I needed was to see how ridiculously happy they were.
“Whoa!” Tex walked back into the room. “I leave and things get more tense?” He snorted and put his hands on his hips. “That’s a first.”
“Everyone!” Nixon held up his hands. “One thing at a time. Tex, keep your head out of your ass, pull the bullet out while I deal with the fake marriage contracts and murder. Sergio, can you—”
“I’ll sew him up.” Sergio nodded. “Just another one of my many talents.” He winked at Trace and Mil. “I’m really good with my hands.” He turned his head slightly, briefly making eye contact with me before going over to the kitchen sink and turning on the water to wash up.
The girls’ mouths dropped open.
“Oh please,” Chase grumbled, sweat starting to pour down his face, most likely from the pain.
“Tex,” Sergio ordered, his voice slightly accented, which I knew from experience happened only when he was under stress and not paying attention to his annunciation. “Could you grab the scalpel?”
“I hate this part.” Chase squeezed his eyes shut.
Mil gripped his arm.
Nixon was pacing back and forth, yelling into his phone, but all I was focused on was Sergio as he very carefully made an incision next to the wound and began working.
He was an artist.
Since when had he become a surgeon?
“I’m older than you guys,” he answered without looking up. “In case you haven’t noticed that my balls actually descended.”
Tex rolled his eyes.
“And…” Sergio made another incision. “…I actually graduated at the top of my class and went to two years of medical school.”
“Was that before or after your parents went to prison?” Tex sang out with a forced smile lifting his lips. “I mean, just curious about the timeline and all.”
“Hmm…” Sergio placed the scalpel on the table and grabbed the tweezers. “Let me think. It was probably after your parents disowned you and before you killed your father. Yeah, how’s that for a timeline?” His voice was so smooth that if you weren’t listening you’d think he delivered a compliment instead of an insult.
Tex’s jaw twitched.
“Not now, Tex.” Chase winced and cursed violently under his breath, half in Italian half in English. “Not while he has tweezers in my skin. Damn, that burns.”
Sergio smiled with his lips but his eyes remained viciously cold and emotionless. “Almost done.”
“How old are you?” Mil asked, still not taking her eyes off of Chase.
“Old,” Tex answered for him.
After a few seconds Sergio lifted his head and looked directly at me. “Old enough.”
The room got really tense.
“Twenty-eight.” Tex swore. “It’s not like he’s an elder or anything. Damn, Sergio, could you be any slower?”