Page 2 of Amadeo (Dark Legends #4)

Gia

Deacon Walker was sitting up in bed.

I rushed back over and stared at him.

He still looked as pale as a ghost, which in a way he was. His eyes were closed and he had gone still.

“Oh, my God!” a voice came from the doorway.

I heard the voice, it was the patient’s sister as she must have just arrived. I didn’t turn. I waited to see if this was a cognitive movement by my patient.

Deacon then plopped back down onto the bed.

I immediately checked his eyes for dilation with my pen light, his pupils didn’t react. No sign of awareness and his breathing hadn’t changed much either. I looked over at his EKG monitor to see that his heart rate and rhythm was the same. With maybe a blip or two of an increase.

“I-is he…” Valencia’s question faded away.

I looked up at her and slowly shook my head. I wish I could tell her something positive but I had nothing at this point. “He is still non responsive.”

“But I-I saw—” Valencia again halted as she raised a shaky hand up to her mouth.

Amadeo stepped up next to her and nodded his head at Deacon. “That looked responsive to me. I mean I know they move and stuff, but he sat upright.”

I shook my head at him and explained it, “Abnormal movements might be seen in the comatose state and they could represent motor paroxysms in the setting of cerebral herniation. Such as flexor or extensor posturing secondary to severe brain injury and subsequent cerebral edema.”

Amadeo stared at me and then blinked his eyes as he raised his phone up to me. “If you could just tell me what language you’re speaking, then I can get the translator app. Cause woman, you lost me at abnormal movements .”

Nurse Jocelyn giggled from behind me.

I resisted the smile that tried to spread across my lips. I often forgot to talk like a normal person, not a medical encyclopedia. When I was in medical school my father used to say I was a walking encyclopedia. I wasn’t a normal person though, not by any definition.

Valencia stepped toward the bed and asked, “So, he’s not awake?”

Awake? Not even close. And we had no way of knowing if he would ever be awake.

This could go on for years until someone decided to pull the plug.

If I understood right, Stephano would be that plug-puller.

Valencia waited for me to reply. It had taken lots of work and training to care about anyone other than my patient but I remembered my caring card, or my bedside manner as one of my professors had called it.

I gave her a sympathetic look and replied in a soft voice, “No. He is not awake. His condition is the same.”

Releasing a pitiful sigh she looked saddened then she sat in the chair next to the bed. This had been what she had consistently done since Deacon arrived here at the estate. Sit vigil. Fare il leale .

I had to give her credit, she was loyal.

“I remember when I was twelve,” she spoke softly.

“I had a nightmare. Deacon heard me crying and he came to my room. He asked me what happened. I was trying to be brave and cool like he was. I think he was about nineteen then? I told him it was just the boogeyman. Not sure where I heard the expression but I shrugged and tried to hide my tears. He came over to my bed and handed me a little troll doll. Like the ones with green hair, a huge smirk and a wide face. I asked him why was he giving me such an ugly doll? He said, ‘because it is uglier than any boogeyman and will scare them away.’ I smiled at him and he left my room. I kept that doll by my bed for so long that it was a collectible by the time I moved it.” Valencia laughed a little and reached over to pat Deacon’s hand.

“Did it really work?” Nurse Jocelyn asked her.

Valencia looked up from Deacon to her and replied, “It did for a long time until I went to college and lost track of it. But now I wish I knew where that uglyass doll was. Maybe it could scare the boogeyman away that’s holding Deacon under its spell.”

I paused at her comment. I studied comatose patients for a couple of years now.

Some woke up and had no memory of what their coma was like.

But there had been a few that spoke of hallucinations.

Saying they could hear the people who were around them or seeing monsters.

This boogeyman theory from Valentia should have been a stretch to me but I had read articles about this subject and it really came close to what some patients had said.

Amadeo moved closer to Valentia while looking concerned.

Gazing up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know why I want him to wake up. He hasn’t got a lot to wake up for.”

“He has you,” he told her.

She folded her hands into her lap as she still looked upset. “I just don’t know what would be worse… Him in a coma or him awake?”

This question she brought up touched on something I had wondered about. I glanced over at Amadeo.

He looked very troubled over her words.

I paused at this as I felt very troubled over them as well. I knew only a little about this situation. Deacon had done some bad things, despite being an FBI agent. I didn’t know what those things were and I didn’t know exactly why Deacon Walker had been brought here specifically.

Amadeo patted her shoulder. “It will work out somehow.”

Valencia peered up at him. “I cannot see how?”

He shrugged. “Well, I heard that everything works out in the end. But if it hasn't worked out yet, then it's not the end.”

I stared at him. His statement had to be the dumbest yet most profound thing I’d ever heard.

Valencia nodded at him. “Tito told me not to assume he’s gone. But I can’t assume he’s still here either, can I?”

“Look, I’m no philosopher,” Amadeo stated. “Mainly because I’m a guy who thinks of just three things.” With a smile, he waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind those 3 things. What I am trying to say is maybe this had to happen.”

Valencia stared at him and asked, “The plane wreck?”

Amadeo shrugged. “The wreck, his coma. A change in the dangerous life he was leading. It is make or break now. He lived underground. That’s great for a gopher but not a man. This guy was many things he shouldn’t have been and the latest was being a man on the run.”

Valencia shook her head. “Look who raised him. O taught him to grab, hold and squeeze until it’s gone.”

Amadeo chuckled. “Sounds like what a football coach would say about the ball. Or maybe Austin Powers about…” He paused to give her a grin. “Well, other activities.”

Valencia looked up at him and laughed.

Nodding, he grinned at her. “My job here is done.” He gave her a wink and said, “If ya need me, I’ll be the bored looking wannabe comedian in a wrinkled suit, sittin’ by the door.” Then he moved away to sit down in his chair.

I slowly shook my head and hid my smirk.

Why did the asshole have to be so damned likeable?

His puns and his so-called dumb philosophy were funny as hell and yes, he managed to make Valencia smile.

She looked better now. Why did he have to act like a caring person, give her comfort and just be all around… a nice guy?

I needed to keep in mind who he really was and who his father was.

That was another reason why I wondered about my patient even being here.

I could say that it was because of Valencia’s relation to him.

She was Tito’s girlfriend, so they could have offered to take care of her brother.

But no...I don’t think that was it either.

Stephano Descalia disliked Deacon Walker.

Well, disliked would be putting it too lightly.

His eyes nearly burned with rage whenever he came in here.

No, he didn’t care about Deacon Walker’s health.

He only cared about when the man would wake up.

I glanced over at Nurse Jocelyn.

She kept watching Amadeo with a smile on her face.

I followed her amused gaze over to him.

He had been staring at me then dropped his eyes to his phone.

I’d caught him looking at me a few times.

I didn’t think anything of it really. Except for the fire in his eyes and not the kind that his father had.

No, I’d seen attraction in men’s eyes many times before.

Not that I was some beauty queen. Don’t get it twisted I did not walk around thinking I was all that.

Yes, I had a decent body and great skin.

Someone said I looked like Sophia Loren.

It had been an old doctor. I had to look her up and after I did, I took that as one of the best compliments ever.

But I didn’t really agree. I was just average, as I did not care much for appearances.

I barely wore any makeup. Hell, I did love my lipstick but that was about it.

I did that for me, not a man. I kept my nails short with just a clear coat.

I had long hair, jet black like my mother’s but I kept it up in a bun or a ponytail.

I didn’t wear it down as a shroud of beauty.

It would just get in my way. I was a doctor walking through hospital halls, not along a runway.

I became a doctor for a reason. And that reason wasn’t about beauty or landing a man. Those things were stupid, useless and a waste of fucking time.

I again glanced at Nurse Jocelyn.

She caught my eye and was doing this funny thing with her eyebrows like wiggling them at me.

I shook my head at her. I got what she meant.

Yes, he was cute, funny and sexy as fuck.

My mother would say he was ‘molto bello.’ But I couldn’t forget what he really was and what he did.

I rolled my eyes then grabbed my Ipad to tap the screen.

I had to forget all that for now and get back to my job.

Then I paused. My job was to monitor and that was just like being one of the machines.

What I really wished for was a cure or a remedy.

So far in the world, there was none for a coma.

And I sure as hell did not have a troll doll.

I scoffed to myself. Damn, if only it was that easy…

Shaking my head, I reset my focus on my Ipad.

The specifics on Deacon Walker weren’t good.

He had shown no real change. Head trauma was a tricky thing at best. His CT showed slight damage to his cranium.

He did have a concussion and that was almost healed now.

The fact that he hadn’t woken up could just be the natural process of how the brain often shuts things down to protect the body.

An odd reaction that sometimes kicked in that most people don’t know about.

Just one of a hundred unexplained occurrences within the mystery of the human brain.

No matter how many studies there were or how many years went by, medical authorities had no clue as to the real functioning inside the brain.

The very nature of the brain was only half guessed.

I actually went into medicine because of the brain so to speak.

Comatose cases were my specialty. I had a degree in neurology and a sub degree in neurosurgery.

I became a doctor for a specific reason.

One that I kept hidden from the world. It suited me too.

Doctors I’d met who pursued me and failed had told me I belonged in the medical world.

Cold, logical and only dedicated to my work.

Some men I briefly dated even said, I should never step out of the sterile, stark white world of medicine.

I belonged where there was only logic and no real emotions.

None of it ever hurt my feelings. I was an ice queen.

My mother had been right. I took those remarks as compliments in fact.

My mother always worried about me as a young child and as a young woman.

How I would end up alone and a spinster.

Her philosophy of life had always been a sunny one.

She said I should strive for happiness and love.

She often told me and my sister that a woman needed to grow into beauty.

But it took time and perseverance to do so.

She would nod sagely and say… I asked God for flowers and he gave me rain .

I was fifteen when she recited this lovely analogy to us.

My reply to her was… And I asked for strength so He gave me a brain.

Then her Italian Mama mode would kick in .

“ Gia, sarai una regina del ghiaccio.” ‘Gia, you will be an ice queen. Until he arrives.’ Well, I was curious about this ‘he’ she spoke about, so I asked her about this person in a dry sarcastic tone.

She then told me… ‘He will be the only one who makes your heart skip beats and take your breath away. The only one who will be able to melt your crown.’

I laughed as me and my sister teased her about hot men melting things.

To which, she chased us out of the kitchen with her broom as we all laughed.

In essence, I scoffed at this whole fairytale nonsense about love.

A prince coming to your rescue to save you from the cruel world.

Hell, men WERE the cruel world. And to this day, my opinion hadn’t changed as I still scoffed at the ideal of finding your true love.

My mother was as smart as they come. Great at many things.

Cooking, sewing, art and being able to cheer up almost any soul.

She just wasn’t right about everything .

I worked in a world full of men. I had yet to meet one that even got my attention, let alone took my damned breath away.

Plus, I’d seen this supposed love of a man in action.

I wasn’t impressed. Often, it did so much damage, a woman never got over it. I knew this lesson well.

Nah, you couldn’t trust men…Period.