This Thing of Ours (The Gamblers Spin-off Novel) Page 6

She took a step back and to the side, putting more distance between the doctor and moving closer to the door. “I don’t want it. The bath I took relaxed me just fine.”

  He capped the syringe and tossed it back in his bag. “I was only trying to help. I won’t force it on you.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “I do still need to examine you though, to make sure you’re alright.”

  His hand reached for her, and her mind flashed back to other hands. Hands that hurt, clawed, and ripped. Logically, she knew the doctor wouldn’t hurt her, but that didn’t stop the panic that crawled up her throat to choke her. She tripped over her own feet in her haste to get away, falling and landing on her ass. Greene grabbed her arm. More than likely to help her up, but she was too far gone to be rational, and she yelled, “No, get off me,” while kicking out with her leg.

  The door flew open, banging against the wall, and Marco, looking pissed, loomed in the doorway, taking in the situation. He reached them in less than a second, ripping the doctor off Gabby and pulling her to her feet. “What the hell is going on?”

  “Explain yourself,” Nico said, grabbing the doctor by his arm.

  “She fell. I was trying to help her up.”

  “That didn’t look like you were helping her.” Marco took a step forward, putting himself between her and the doctor.

  “Maybe we should talk about this in the other room,” Greene suggested.

  Gabby heard low whispers between Nico and the doctor before they were cut off by the closing of her bedroom door. She stepped out from behind Marco. “Thank you.” She hugged her arms around herself.

  Marco grunted, acknowledging but not accepting her gratitude. His eyes were locked on hers, and she had to fight not to look away. “You’re tired. You need some sleep.”

  She shook her head. “Not while the doctor’s still here.”

  He moved to the side of her bed and pulled back the covers. “Get in. I won’t let him near you.”

  “Promise.”

  He gave her another grunt, this one accompanied by a nod. Not a sworn declaration but close enough.

  She climbed into the bed and let Marco pull the covers over her. “I’m not sure if I can sleep.”

  “Just try.”

  She closed her eyes. “I’m too amped up to fall asleep,” she said around a yawn.

  But if Marco replied, she didn’t hear it.

  Chapter Eight

  Nico was lounging on the sofa when Marco entered the living room, but the good doctor was nowhere to be seen. “He gone?”

  Nico stretched his arms across the back of the couch and crossed an ankle over his knee. “For now.”

  “I don’t want him touching Gabriella.”

  Nico raised a brow at that. "She needs to be looked at."

  Marco held firm. "Not by that quack. He treats gunshot and stab wounds."

  "He's been our family doctor for more than twenty years."

  "Because he was stripped of his license and can't practice legally." Marco expelled an uncharacteristically frustrated sigh and knew Nico noticed by the lifting of that damn single brow again. He took a breath, and stated calmly, "You can't tell me you're okay with this."

  Nico conceded, "No, but we need to know what happened to her."

  "And she'll tell us."

  "Are you sure about that?"

  “Yes.”

  Nico was silent a minute. “What’s going on with you, Marco?”

  He slipped his hands in his front pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do.” Nico and that damn fucking eyebrow. He’d never noticed how much the fucking trait pissed him off before.

  Not wanting to make things easy, he said, “Be specific.”

  “Okay, I’ll play. Where’s your head at? You’re acting out of character. Why the sudden concern for Gabby?”

  Did he confess? He’d held his feelings in check for so long, it was almost second nature by now. He shrugged again. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  Nico saw too much, had known him too long. He felt his temper rise. “Nothing other than she’s a human being who’s been traumatized, and then almost again by a quack of a doctor.”

  “Easy, my friend, your feelings are showing. Which I find, that in itself, interesting. I wasn’t sure you had any.”

  Marco needed to shut the fuck up. He backtracked by saying, “I’ve known Gabriella since she was twelve. I care for her… just as you do.”

  “So, you care for her as a sister?”

  Marco’s lips flattened, and he tipped his head in a nod.

  Nico’s lips pursed. “I see.”

  And Marco was afraid he did.

  The whimpers woke him from a doze. He looked toward the window—light out, but just barely. Gabriella hadn’t been asleep for long. A few hours, tops.

  After their chat, it hadn’t been hard to convince Nico to go home to Olivia, promising that he would watch over Gabriella and stay until her front door was fixed or her mother showed—whichever came first. Odds were high it would be Donatella, and Marco was pretty sure Nico had known that. In fact, Marco was surprised Nico had convinced the Conti matriarch to stay away from Gabriella for the night. He’d been sure as soon as Nico’s car had left, Dona would be banging on her daughter’s door.

  Marco stood from the couch and made his way to the open bedroom door. With her head thrashing back and forth on her pillow, it was easy to see Gabriella wasn’t resting peacefully. She called out in her sleep, something he couldn’t understand, and he found himself at her side before his mind could even think of an excuse to stop him.

  He reached out a hand, stroking away the bangs that had fallen over her closed lids, murmuring soothing sounds that had no meaning. It seemed to calm her.

  He sat at her hip, picking her hand up and lightly tracing the veins that showed through the creaminess of her skin. Raised welts—red and angry—circled the part of her wrist that had come in contact with the zip tie, and a clear line of fingerprint bruises marked the inside of her forearm.

  Anger burned in his gut, twisting and coiling like a living entity. He wished he could go back in time and re-kill the men he’d shot. He’d make their deaths a whole lot slower… and more painful.

  She stirred, her eyes slitting open, trained on his hand that held hers. Her gaze traveled up his arm to his face. She licked her lips. How could one such innocent act have such an effect on him?

  “You’re still here?” Her voice was hoarse, groggy, and so fucking sexy.

  He knew his thoughts were inappropriate. Forget the fact she was off-limits, she’d also been hurt, physically, and God knew what the fuck kind of tortures were running through her head. “I’m still here.”

  She looked back down at their joined hands. “I don’t want to talk about what happened.”

  “I know.”

  Her eyes flew back to his and grew wide. “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Streghetta mia, we all have demons. Sometimes sharing them gives them power. Brings them to life and gives them the ability to hurt. Gives others the power to hurt you with them, too.”

  “You know that’s the opposite theory of what you would find in just about any psychology text, right?”

  Marco shrugged. He didn’t know much about that. He’d gotten most of his education from the streets, not from books. And what he’d learned—the hard way—was it was best to keep all things to himself—whether they were his secrets or someone else’s.

  “My family’s going to make me talk.”

  “They want what’s best for you.”

  “And you don’t?”

  Marco shrugged again. “As you’ve pointed out, I don’t see things the way others do.”

  He lost her eyes when she turned them toward the window. He knew she was struggling, wondering whether she could come to peace with what’d happened to her on her own.

  “I won’t ask what happened, but I do need to know if y
ou need to see a doctor.” He knew she knew what he was asking.

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He exhaled a relieved breath, giving her hand a squeeze.

  She pulled her hand from his, rolling to her side while closing her eyes. “I’m going to try to get some more sleep.”

  She was shutting him out. Shutting the world out. He understood the need to do that better than anyone. “It will take some time, but soon, I’ll want my old Gabriella back.”

  “What if I don’t know how to find her?”

  “We’ll find her together.” He stood from the bed and looked down at her. “I’ll be close. Just shout if you need anything.”

  She pulled the covers over her shoulder and snuggled into them. “Okay.”

  He watched over her a few minutes longer, but she never opened her eyes or said anything more, so he turned and left the room.

  A few hours later, Gabriella still sleeping, the door fixed, and with the arrival of Dona, Marco had no choice but to leave. He had no good reason to stay.

  After stopping at home for a quick shower and a clean change of clothes, he went to the warehouse where Johnny was babysitting their new friend.

  The guy hung from his wrists from a set of chains attached to the ceiling in the middle of the room. He’d been left to hang—to spend a little time contemplating life. Marco hoped to hell the guy had used the time to work shit out and get his priorities straight because he was about to tilt his fucking world.

  His footsteps echoed through the vast emptiness of the room and both Johnny and the guy turned their heads to watch him approach. Marco got his first good look at the guy. He didn’t appear worked over other than the black eye and swollen jaw he’d probably received at the time of capture. His hands were discolored and useless, hanging limply from a set of cuffs that tightly circled his wrists. His toes barely touched the ground, the sneakered tips taking some of the pressure from his straining shoulders but not completely alleviating it.

  “Give us a few minutes,” Marco said to Johnny as he passed, tipping his head to indicate the exit door.

  Johnny didn’t question the order, and with a curt nod, left the building. Marco slowly approached the prisoner and stopped when he was a few feet away. He took his time staring the man down before he said anything. “You have info I want, and you’re gonna give it to me.”

  The guy’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he worked his throat, trying to swallow.

  “Thirsty?”

  The guy’s eyes widened a fraction, but he nodded.

  “Sorry, man, I don’t have any water. But tell me what I want to know, and I’ll have Johnny,” Marco paused and indicated the door with a wave of his hand, “go get you some.”

  The guy licked his lips. “I don’t know nothing.” He made another nervous swallow.

  “Oh, I don’t know, you look like an intelligent guy. I’m sure you know something.”

  “I don’t have the answers you want,” he clarified.

  “How do you know? I haven’t asked any questions yet.”

  His voice growing stronger the more he talked, the guy said, “You want info on the boss. I already told the last guy that was here, I don’t know nothing about that.”

  “Actually, I want info on the boy.”

  The guy's eyes widened farther, and he shook his head. Bingo. They hadn’t been sure the kid Gabriella had been seeing was involved, but by dickhead’s reaction, Marco would bet his small fortune he was and get good odds on it.

  “No?” Marco took a step closer, tucking his hands in his front pockets, so he didn’t strangle the fucker before he got the information he wanted. “Let me let you in on a little secret. I hate the word no. In fact, the word no sometimes makes me do crazy things. Do you want to know the crazy things the word no makes me do?” Marco cautioned him before he could answer. “Careful. Remember the word no makes me crazy.”

  The guy’s internal struggle was clear to see. Compressed lips. Jaw working as if he were grinding his teeth. Narrowed eyes. Finally, he tipped his chin in a weak nod.

  Marco’s lips pulled up into a smile that he knew didn’t reach his eyes. “See, I knew you were an intelligent guy.” He reached around, pulled his gun from its holster at the small of his back, and held it up, angling it this way and that, so the guy could get a good look. “When I hear the word no, my trigger finger gets itchy.” He tapped his index finger on the trigger guard of his gun for emphasis. “Makes me want to hurt the people who say it.” Marco took a few steps back and pointed his gun at the guy’s foot. “Wonder how long it would take for your shoulders to dislocate if I shoot off your toes.”

  “Wh… wh… what?”

  Marco raised his brows. “Fair warning, I don’t like repeating myself, either.”

  “Listen, I… I… don’t know.”

  The guy was lying. He was scared shitless and still lying. Why was he trying to protect the kid? On the Monday after Gabriella’s disappearance, Nico had sent a couple of men to her school, but Derek Miller hadn’t been in the classroom, and none of the other students had his phone number or knew where to find him.

  He could ask Gabriella, he just wanted to give her a little time, but he would if he didn’t get the answers he needed.

  “I think you do know. Where can I find him?”

  The guy was shaking his head before Marco even finished speaking. “I… I… don’t know.”

  The gun blast was loud, but the guy’s screams were louder. Marco waited until he was down to his last few whimpers before he repeated, “Where can I find him?”

  The guy remained silent, so Marco moved the gun over, aiming at his other foot.

  “Wait! Pl… please. I don’t know where Dmitri is.”

  What? Who the fuck was Dmitri?

  The guy kept stuttering. “V… vol… Volkov has him hidden.”

  “Ivan Volkov?”

  At the guy's vigorous nod, Marco took another step back, thinking. It was all starting to make sense. Ivan Volkov was the head of the Russian mob, and they’d been trying—unsuccessfully—to take over their territory. Guess they’ve upped their game.

  Marco holstered his gun. He was done with the guy for the time being. Volkov shouldn’t be too hard to find.

  Walking from the dim interior of the warehouse into the bright sunlight, Marco paused when he spied Johnny standing to the side of the door. Pulling his sunglasses from his pocket, he slipped them on then said, “Give the guy some water.” He didn’t wait for a response before heading for his car.

  Chapter Nine

  The knock at the front door was startling. Not expecting anyone, Gabby eyed it nervously. It was late-ish, a little after ten, and she was finally alone for the first time that day.

  Her mom had been there when she’d gotten up late that morning after a restless, dream-filled sleep, but Marco had been gone. One glance at her mom’s devastated face when she’d seen the damage done to her only daughter for the first time, had Gabby losing the tenuous hold on her emotions. Tears had filled her eyes and slid down her cheeks before she’d had a chance to blink them away. But it had been the hug that had broken her. Being engulfed by her mother’s arms, she’d buried her face in her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of Chanel, and cried. Huge, powerful, racking sobs that had jarred both her and her mom until Gabby wasn’t sure who was keeping whom standing.

  “I’m so sorry.” Keeping her face firmly planted in her mom’s neck, Gabby whispered her confession. “I should’ve never gone off without security.”

  “Oh, honey, we all make mistakes. I’m just sorry the consequences of yours were so high.”

  “I thought Derek was a good guy. I thought everyone was making too big a deal out of it.” Her mom stroked her back, saying nothing, letting her talk. “It was so stupid to trust him.”

  “It wasn’t stupid to trust him, you couldn’t have known, but you also have to trust in the people who love you, that we do things a certain way for a reason.”

  Gabby nodd
ed, agreeing. Boy, had she learned her lesson. She sniffed and took a step back out of her mom’s arms. “Is Dad very angry?”

  “Your father is… concerned. He’s worried because you wouldn’t let Dr. Greene examine you.”

  Gabby went over and plopped down on the couch and tucked her legs to her chest, hugging them. “I promise, there’s no need. I’m not ready to talk about what happened, but I will say, it’s not as bad as you’re all thinking.”

  Her mom sat beside her, prying one of Gabby’s hands loose to hold it sandwiched between her own. “Fair enough, but know, if you ever do want to talk, I’m here for you.”

  Patting her hand, her mom had gotten up and gone to the kitchen.

  Gabby had been given some soup, that she’d barely sipped at and in a flavor she didn’t recall. She faked a nap while listening to the sounds of her mother cleaning and the softer sounds of music in the background. Then had endured yet another meal—that time choking down chicken and rice, to stop her mom from nagging about how little she was eating.

  She loved her mom, even appreciated what she’d been trying to do, but she was exhausted in mind, body, and spirit and all Gabby had wanted was to lick her wounds in peace. So, after some gentle coaxing and the promise she was going straight to bed, she’d convinced her mom to leave.

  The knock sounded again, louder this time, yet still, she sat frozen on the sofa. She doubted someone with nefarious intentions would go through the motions of polite etiquette, but that didn’t mean she could get her brain to recognize that fact, and in turn, get her limbs working in the proper order to get up and answer the door.

  It wasn’t until she heard her name called in a voice she was beginning to associate with safety that her body jerked into action. Standing, her legs took a few hesitant steps before picking up speed, carrying her to the door.

  She quickly turned the deadbolt, disengaging the lock, and pulled open the door. And there he stood—tall, dark, and menacing. He wore another dark suit with the white shirt beneath, fresh and crisp. She wondered how many times in a day he changed to achieve that goal.