Diavolo

Chapter 2

For one nerve-wracking, gut-wrenching hour, Stefano and Mikey held down the brown-and-blue-gray-eyed man as Elyse proceeded to remove the bullet from his body with the skill and precision of a machine. With no anesthesia, all she could offer the poor bastard was a towel to bite on throughout the hellish experience.

To the stranger's credit, he made every effort to stay still during the operation and only released a few spirited groans and twitches as Elyse disinfected the area, descended upon his wound, disinfected the area again, and stitched him up.

When the worst of her work was done, she relayed in clipped tones, "We'll need to keep an eye out for infection. I need to get him on some antibiotics and pain relievers as soon as possible. You guys took me by surprise tonight. I haven't had a chance to restock. Also, he needs to get a tetanus shot."

At this point, Elyse was only conversing with Stefano and Mikey. Her patient had passed out. Cold. Probably from pain or fatigue. His vitals were steady, though.

Gracias a Dios. Thank God.

Thank God her patient had lived. Thank God she would live, too. Elyse proceeded to offer a silent prayer of gratitude. She had been raised Catholic by her Mexican father. Elyse hadn't stepped foot inside a church in years, but, during times of duress, such as tonight, she found herself clinging to religion in the way a frightened child may clutch onto a familiar, comforting security blanket.

"We outta the woods?" Stefano demanded anxiously.

"Most likely," she replied.

Mikey asked, "How long until he's back on his feet?"

Hiding her anxiety behind a mask of professionalism, Elyse advised in a calm, quiet manner, "He should be on bed rest for, at least, a few days. Afterward, don't let him engage in any kind of moderate to strenuous activity for a minimum of two weeks."

Just then, Stefano's phone started to buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket, took one look at the screen, and cursed loudly, "Fuck! I gotta take this."

He stepped into the kitchen and came back a minute later with a thunderous expression on his face. "Code red, Mikey! The boss needs us."

Mikey's bushy eyebrows shot up. "We leavin' now?"

Stefano gave a curt nod. "Yeah."

Mikey's beady eyes darted toward the man laying on Elyse's living room floor. He was still unconscious. "What about Aless—"

"Watch it, dumbass," Stefano snapped in warning tones.

"Right, right," Mikey grumbled. "Sorry."

Stefano turned to Elyse. "We heading out, doc. Keep an eye on this guy for us?"

Elyse bit back a scowl. This wasn't the first time Stefano had left someone in her apartment overnight. She hated being forced to open her home to hardened criminals day in and day out. Granted, most of the time, the patients that Stefano left in her care were too weak and wounded to try anything funny, but it was still scary as hell to share a space with men who wouldn't think twice about murdering or raping her.

Elyse sighed. "For how long?"

"A few days," Stefano answered. "Give or take."

Her nerves constricted. "A few days, you say?"

"Like you said," Mikey pointed out, "our man needs bed rest, right?"

"Right."

"Don't worry," he added, "we'll be back to check on him. Tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Take good care of him, or else, you know—"

"I die?" she supplied with an arched eyebrow.