Page 95 of Single Malt Drama
Marco
I woketo the glorious sensation of a warm, wet, tongue on my neck. Mmm, Nico must have really missed me last night.
Last night?Memories of arguing with her, of climbing out the window, of running toward Cyril’s, flashed through my mind like mini-hand grenades. I opened my eyes and caught a lump of reddish-brown fur in my peripheral vision.
“No, Saint.” I bolted upright and immediately regretted it. My head felt as over-inflated as a Macy’s parade balloon, if said balloon was filled with hydrochloric acid.
The hound dog sat beside me with his tongue lolling. Twin columns of drool hung from his jowls like shoestrings.
I wiped the side of my face and cringed. The idiot dog had covered me in spit—pinkish, blood-tinged spit. Tentatively, I pressed my fingertips to the source of the ache. My hair was crunchy, and there was a lump the size of an egg just behind my temple.
How did I get back here? Where’s Nico?Panic set in. I stood too quickly and sank back to the mattress.
“Whoa there.” Cyril appeared as if by magic. “Take it easy. You’ve been out for hours.”
Hours?I glanced to the closed drapes. The thin lines of sunlight laser beamed my pupils. “Where’s Nico?”
Growling under his breath, he turned away. “With the men who did that to your head.”
Right. Gian-freaking-carlo. I’d failed Nico. We’d known they were coming. I should have had a security team on her around the clock, but I’d worried about privacy. I’d put getting my dick wet above my wife’s safety.
Cyril folded his arms and stared at me. “Who were they? What kind of trouble are you two in?”
“The ringleader is her brother.” Ignoring the pain and carnival ride dizziness, I stood. The place looked like a herd of muddy elephants had passed through.
“That explains why they carried you inside instead of leaving you as easy pickin’s for the gators.”
“I suspect that was Nico’s doing.” I patted my pockets. “Any idea where my phone is?”
He reached into his pocket and handed me his cell. “Use mine. Yours is at the bottom of the river along with the house phone and your computer.”
Finding Nico was my top priority. I didn’t give a shit about losing the gadgets, but he seemed to know a whole lot for someone who wasn’t directly involved. “You watched them take her and didn’t try to stop them?”
“Take? There was no taking. She went with them.” He made a sour face. “I couldn’t understand why she was curled up on the big one.”
Struggling to understand what he was saying, I held up my hands. “Whoa. Start over. What do you mean, curled up?”
“The guy had his arm around her, all cozy-like.”
Nothing he’d said made any sense. Nico wasn’t close to her brothers, least of all, Giancarlo. “Was she injured?”
“Not that I could tell, but there was puke on the dock.” Cyril shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Who puked?” My imagination conjured up images of Giancarlo’s men punching Nico in the stomach. “Are you sure the guy wasn’t holding her because she was hurt?”
“Look. The whole thing was crazy. I heard a gunshot and came to check on y’all. Saint found you bleeding in the grass. Then two of them carried you inside. I snuck around to the dock about the time Nico got into the boat and snuggled up with the big feller.”
“Right.” I stared at the phone trying to remember any of my brothers’ phone numbers.
“You should have your head checked.”
Between my sluggish brain and my missing wife, my patience wore thin. Too thin to stand there and explain the situation. “I’m not crazy. Nico may have saved my life by agreeing to go with them.”
Cyril chuckled. “I meant that bump on your noggin.”
“Don’t have time for that.” After three wrong numbers, I managed to get through to Dante.
“Marchionni.” My brother mumbled into the phone.