Bullets & Bandages

1

I finally slumped down on the rickety metal chair next to my exam table after a grueling six hour surgery. I was tired of digging bullets out of these men in less than ideal accommodations. Personally, I didn't care if they lived or died; in fact, the streets would be better off without them, but if they died on my table, the punishment was unbearable. I wasn't about to lose the mob boss or his self-appointed family for the simple reason that I feared them. I often thought about turning myself in to the police, but that dream was thwarted by the boss man himself. I knew the consequences of turning on the boss and I promised myself to never cross that line.

A firm hand clapped my shoulder. My spine stiffened in response as if my very being knew who it was before I actually saw him. Giovanni trailed his hand over my collar bone as he stepped in front of me and glanced over at the sedated man on the table.

"Nice, Aria," he commented, turning back to me with a smirk I was all too familiar with.

"Yeah, well, next time try to keep pressure on the hole. It's a pain in the ass trying to operate when they're that low on blood."

I used the bend of my pale elbow to push a stray curl out of eyes. I needed a long, hot shower and a midnight snack.

"Boss wants to talk to you," he said as he offered me his calloused hand.

I let out a sigh and pushed off my thighs, refusing his ridiculous attempt to touch me.

"What now?" I asked, flat and annoyed. I hated dealing with Giovanni. I knew he got off on jerking me around.

"Who knows. Maybe you fucked up."

"I haven't been here in a month."

He shrugged his broad shoulders and nodded towards the swinging metal doors.

I looked down at my blood stained scrubs before deciding it probably wasn't best to keep Lorenzo waiting. He was notoriously impatient.

I swung the doors open and followed the dim, dingy hall to an office door. One of the boss' most trusted pets, Peter, focused his muddy eyes on me as I approached. Without question, he opened the office door for me and let me slip inside.

I instantly felt uncomfortable in the room with only the boss and one of his regular girls. Mascara ran down her tanned face as she wound her arms tightly around her chest. Hell, I didn't even know her name, but I saw her almost every time I was called to action. She was tall and lean, beautiful like the rest of the girls he kept around, but she seemed less vapid than the others. Her emerald eyes held a spark of something the other girls did not possess. Not that she was any better than the rest of them; she knew damn well he was a married man with grown children, but that didn't stop her from sleeping with him.

"Thank you for the house call, doctor," the boss greeted in his heavy Italian accent.

I nodded in response. I knew not speaking was better than saying the wrong thing to him. I knew that my tone was often clipped and he would have taken offense to that.

"Ashley has an issue she would like to discuss with you," he started.

I turned my attention to the girl, but she was glaring at him. I had no idea what could have caused that kind of hate to radiate from her, but I was glad it wasn't directed at me.

"I told you I'm not doing it!" she screamed.

The boss rose from his seat and stalked over to her. I cringed when he grabbed the back of her neck and muttered something to her in Italian. Her careful composure shattered with his words and I wondered what he told her. Had I known I would end up working part time for the Italian mafia, I would have taken Italian instead of German in college.