Nick’s stomach kicked queasily at the rancid familiarity of all this, remembering those weeks of feebleness after he’d been shot, when he could hardly make his mind work and time floated on a choppy sea. He’d recovered, but he’d been weakened. Even as his power had continued to increase, he was weaker, and would only become weaker still as the years went on.
Donnie knocked lightly on the glass, and Angie turned. He hadn’t slept, either. He’d gone from the warehouse straight back to the hospital to continue his vigil at his wife’s side.
They’d been married only six months.
Angie kissed Giada’s limp hand—Nick saw a flash of red at her fingertips, an incongruous pop of color in this dreary place—and set it gently on the bed. He rose and came to them, slid the door open and stepped out.
“Any new word?” Donnie asked as Angie slid the door closed again.
Angie shook his head. “No. She’s hanging in but there’s no change. The doc was hoping she’d wake up by now, but she lost a lot of blood—about three liters.”
“Jesus.” Nick let that one utterance of shock loose, because it was true shock. Every one of them knew how much blood the body could lose before it simply stopped. Forty percent of total blood volume—or, in a woman Giada’s size, maybe three and a half liters.
“How about the wound? What damage did it do?” Donnie asked. Giada had been shot in the throat.
Angie turned back to the glass wall and studied his wife. “They saved her esophagus. The bullet tore through it, but they were able to repair that. We won’t know if she can talk, or how she’ll sound, until she wakes up, but I don’t give a shit about that. I just want her back. She needs to wake up. We won’t know anything until she wakes up.”
Mimicking the gesture Donnie had made with him repeatedly, Nick set his hand on Angie’s shoulder. “You should go back and stay with her. Is Bruno still in the hospital?”
“Yeah. There’s no reception in here, so he went downstairs to make some calls.” Angie’s eyes sharpened and took on a hot light. “But don’t you fuckin’ think you’re shunting me to the side. I’m not your man anymore, Nick, and we Saccos have pieces in play already.”
“What’s that mean?” Donnie asked, with an edge of anger sharpening the words.
It was a question Nick wanted the answer to as well. “This is not the place to talk about it,” he countered. “Let’s go to the chapel. And Bruno. We need to talk.”
~oOo~
“We’re moving on the Cuccia site,” Bruno said once they were secured inside the hospital chapel.
“Moving how?” Nick asked.
“We’re gonna crater that fucker,” Angie answered. “That’s how.”
“No,” Nick said, keeping his voice calm and easy. “Not yet.”
Bruno cleared his throat and sat forward. “Rispetto, Don Pagano, but this is not your show. We are equal partners in this, and our don could be dying.”
“She’s not dying,” Angie snarled. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth, Bruno.”
“Sorry, Ange.”
Nick glared at Bruno. “My home was attacked. My daughter killed. I am the head of the Council, so it absolutely is my show.”
“You’re not king, Nick,” Bruno came back. “I don’t care what the civilians call you.”
A burst of rage escaped its compartment, and Nick stood up. The three other men reared back as if he’d swung at them.
He caught the tail of his anger and pulled it back. He didn’t take his seat, however, until he said, “Tell me exactly what you set in motion, and I will tell you whether you have my support.” Then he sat.
It was Angie who answered. “It’s simple. Bruno’s been in touch with the Romanos already today, and they’re on board, can ease our way to the site. We’ve been watching Cuccia stock that damn site for weeks. We all know he thinks he’ll wipe us out and then move in and take over. Now we set charges and blow the whole thing sky-high, show him we’re not fucking around.
When Nick made a big gesture, he did it so that there was no sign after the cleanup, so only the people directly involved knew and understood. He didn’t like flash. Flash got you noticed by the wrong people, and though Nick had a lot of important law enforcement and governmental arms tied to him, he didn’t have everyone.
Other crews and families liked to make loud statements, to thump their chests and blow holes in the world. Nick