Page 119 of Chicago Sin

“Who’s after you, Armando? Why?” I know I shouldn’t ask. He doesn’t talk business, but this is the second time I have felt like I could die. I have the right to know.

He rubs his face. “I killed a guy in prison. Self defense.” He shoots a dark glance at me like he’s worried about my reaction to his words.

I nod. I’m actually not shocked. I knew bad stuff had happened to him there.

”He was a member of a gang. Now they’re trying to kill me.”

No! a voice inside my head screams. Even though I knew someone was trying to kill Armando, hearing him explain it makes me want to rage for him. He’s a good guy. He has a moral compass. He follows a code. He’s been mixed up in dangerous business from a young age, but it isn’t his fault. He’s doing the best he can with what life dealt him.

And I really want life to give him a break for a change.

I find a parking place when my mom calls. I’m going there tomorrow for dinner, so I ignore it. As soon as it stops ringing, she calls again.

I throw the van in park and pick up.

“Hannah, it’s your dad,” she says in a tight voice. “I had to call an ambulance for him, and I’m following now.”

“What?” A sob chokes my voice. Could this day get any worse? “What happened?”

Armando goes rigid at the terror in my voice, his eyes intent on my face.

“He had a heart attack, but I kept up chest compressions until the paramedics got there. I think he’ll be okay, but we’ll have to see.”

“What hospital?” I manage to ask.

“Cook County.”

“Okay,” I choke out. “I’m coming now, too.”

“Thanks, baby. Call me when you get here.”

“What is it?” Armando demands the moment I end the call.

“My dad.” Tears spill down my cheeks. “He had a heart attack.”

“Okay,” Armando says softly, pushing his door open. “I’ll drive, bambi.”

I have no idea why he called me Bambi, but I don’t have the presence of mind to inquire. I tumble out of the driver’s seat and let him catch me on the way down. He pulls me into a strong hug.

I soak it up—all his strength and power. His support.

We drive to the hospital in silence, me picking at a hangnail until it bleeds. Armando shooting me concerned glances. He’s got someone trying to kill him, but he’s more worried about me.

We find my mom in the waiting area, and I must introduce her to Armando, but it all blurs together. As we sit down to wait, I start to understand Armando’s hollowness.

There’s a numbness that sets in. I block out the fear, and in its place I find nothing. A total void of feeling.

I hear sounds—the television, people talking—but they mean nothing. I feel Armando’s hand clasping my own but can’t find any gratitude for it or even comfort.

I don’t know how long we wait like that, me not breathing, barely living, waiting in the purgatory of the unknown. Of emptiness.

And then a doctor comes out. “Mrs. Munn?”

My mom surges to her feet, and Armando and I follow.

“You can come back now. Your husband suffered a mild heart attack. I’d like to keep him here under observation for the night, but he’ll probably be ready to go home by tomorrow.”

“Thank God,” I breathe, falling into Armando. He holds me up with a strong arm around my back. His lips find the top of my head before we follow the doctor back.