Page 113 of Chasing Caine
“I’m so sorry, Antonio.”
“You’re amazing, Samantha.” And so fortunate for whatever happened to the man. “You caught them.”
She blew out a long breath, wincing as she did. “Umberto got away again.”
“I found him in the stairwell and literally dropped him at an officer’s feet.”
She laughed quietly and it cut off into a groan of pain. “Guess I can go home now that the mystery’s solved.”
I chuckled at her weak attempt at a joke. “Hopefully it was just the three of them and they weren’t part of a larger organization.”
“Umberto said it was all Eva’s idea…” She inched closer, laying her head more heavily on my shoulder. “But she said the same thing about him, so who knows?”
“I have someone checking into it.” A complete honesty I couldn’t share with her just yet, no matter how close we were becoming. There were still secrets we needed to keep a while longer.
“The burner guy?”
“Sì, the burner guy.” I tensed, running my fingers over her injured hand, maintaining the cloth on her forehead.
But she didn’t ask any further questions, frown, or sigh. Not a single sign she didn’t trust me, which probably took every shred of energy she had.
“I love you, bella.”
“Good,” she said with a shaky breath. “I was really afraid I screwed that up.”
I pressed my lips to the side of her head, gently, in case there were injuries I couldn’t see. “You’ll have to work a lot harder than that to push me away.”
“I’m a lucky girl.”
“Sì, very lucky.”
Her shoulders shook and she sucked in a breath. “No more jokes, Ferraro. They hurt my head.”
There was a hint of laughter in her voice, but she needed a doctor and some rest.
“Shh.” I peeked under the washcloth, but the blood sprouted again. Which blood was hers? The wall? The floor? The bed? Somewhere unseen?
The man on the floor should have been thanking his lucky stars for whatever knocked him out. Because I would have done far worse if I’d arrived when he was hurting Samantha.
IkissedSamantha’shandone last time before they loaded her stretcher into the ambulance. “I’ll see you at the hospital as soon as they let me.”
“Thanks,” she whispered and lay back, closing her eyes. She looked so tired.
They closed the back doors and the engines started up. I stepped away from the vehicle, finally letting out a breath. The EMTs said the wound on her forehead would need stitches but would heal just fine. She joked it would make a great scar to add to her collection.
The primary concern would be a concussion since she lost consciousness when the thug smashed her head against the floor.
He—the muscle, whoever he was—was in far worse condition. A broken arm, three broken ribs, and a potential neck injury. Broken nose, broken orbital bone. Good. All of it.
The ambulance drove slowly through the pedestrian area, police clearing the way.
“She’ll be alright?” came a voice next to me.
I startled, turning to see Pasquale’s helicopter pilot. The bodyguard who’d followed Samantha while we were on the yacht. What was he doing here?
“They expect she will.”
His aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, but a cut at the top of one cheek was visible. Fresh. Also a scrape along his jaw.