knew you had your part to play. At least she seemed nice.”
Pulling away from her, I hold her hand and lead her over to the well. We sit on the edge, and it takes everything in me to tear my eyes away from her bruise.
“She wasn’t so bad, but she wasn’t you. No one compares to you, Mila. No one.”
Fuck, I hope she believes me, because it’s the truth.
“And no one compares to you, Raphael.”
A small smile plays around her mouth, and I cup her face, trapping her between my hands.
“I swear to you that once you’re my wife, no one will ever lay a finger on you, not unless they want to die a horrid, painful death.”
She places her finger over my lips. “I love you, Raphael. You’re the only one who can hurt me. This bruise is nothing compared to the pain I feel when I imagine my life without you.”
“Don’t ever imagine such things, Mila. No matter what happens, I’m yours.”
For a moment, I think the machines are going off again, but it’s my phone ringing that wakes me.
Digging it out of my pocket, I see Frankie’s name flashing across the screen. Accepting the call, I press it to my ear, but all I can hear is silence before an ear-splitting boom blasts over the line.
“It’s done.”
I hang up and put my phone away. Tortured in sleep of memories of Mila, I reach for the bottle of whiskey I brought in with me earlier and swig it straight from the bottle.
Chapter Eleven
Jamila
I can’t remember the last time I had a dream. I’m sure I dream, but I guess I don’t remember it the next day? Whatever the case, I dreamt of Raphael last night, of him holding me while whispering promises in my ear, and now I can’t shake it off. I don’t allow myself to think of the past. It does no good to dwell on it, as it only reminds me of the life I could have had. I struggle to remember what woke me, but Trey knocking at the door has me pulling the sheets up and under my arms.
“Come in!” I call out.
The door sweeps over the thick carpet and he steps into the room, stopping at the end of my bed. Dropping his gaze to the sheets, I cock my brow.
“What is it?”
Something must’ve happened for him to be awake at such an early hour, let alone knocking at my door.
“St. Jacobs Church on the East Side of the city is in ruins. From what I’m hearing, there are rumours it was a bomb.”
The East Side is Marocchi territory. Slipping out from under the sheets, I grab my robe from the end of the bed and turn the lamp on. The light isn’t as intrusive, as I was already awake.
“Who?” I bark, wanting to know who caused this destruction.
It may be on Raphael’s side of the city, but a church is a church, and it’s sinking to a new level of low when you destroy one of the Lord’s houses.
“I’ve heard nothing. Did you order this without my knowing?” he has the nerve to ask me.
Narrowing my eyes, I see the moment he backs down, and I don’t bother dignifying his question with a response.
“I want answers, Trey, and I want them now.”
He leaves me to shower and dress. I don’t care that the sun hasn’t risen yet, and I don’t expect to hear from Trey until he has answers.
Sitting on my balcony, I watch as the thick black smoke drifts toward the sky in the mid-morning light. Perhaps it was the explosion that woke me? If it was a bomb, surely we would have felt the ripples across the city.
Trey steps out with a grave look on his face. I brace myself for anything.
He looks away from me before he opens his mouth. “It was a bomb. The fire chief confirmed it an hour ago. I’ve been around to all our men, and no one knows anything. Word is spreading that the Camarco’s are full of shit.”
“How quick we are to be blamed. I won’t criticise them for their quick assumptions, seeing as we deserve it. Our reputations are buried too deep in the city’s memory. But, if we didn’t do this, who did?”
“There’s more, and this directly involves us.”
“Spit it out, then. I’m growing tired of your stumbling.”
Pulling out the chair beside mine, he leans in far too close for my liking.
“When I checked in with Michael, he wasn’t answering.