Page 28 of Soulmate of the Mafia King (Kings of Philly #8)
TOMMASO
R hythmic Arabic bounced off the walls of my brain. Everything hurt, my chest worst of all. The last thing I truly remembered was the monster dragging me down, but somewhere in my mind, I knew I’d been hearing rushed, frantic Arabic for some time.
I opened my eyes. Bright, white light poured in, and I shut them again with a groan.
Someone said something with a cadence that sounded like I should be able to understand it.
I peeked one eye open, barely made out the face of someone with long hair, and realized I still couldn’t make sense of anything.
The monster opened its arms for me, welcoming me down, and I dipped into darkness once more.
The next thing I heard was beeping. Infrequent, but constant. Remembering the blare of light last time, I eased one eye the slightest bit open. Brilliant white, but I could just make out a few details. Angular lines on the white, like ceiling tiles.
“Thank you,” a woman said next to me. “I can keep an eye on him.”
Not a woman. Paige. My heart leapt. The beeping sped up.
Oh, fuck, that hurt. But if Paige was here, in the white place, either we were both dead, or neither of us were, and I suspected death wouldn’t hurt this goddamn much.
That meant Killian got there in time. He’d saved her. Slowly, I opened my other eye.
“Tom?” she asked breathlessly.
I couldn’t hold back the smile that split my face, no matter how much it fucking hurt. “Paige.”
She took my hand in hers. The feel of her skin was like a miracle, something I’d never thought I’d feel again. Tears appeared in my eyes, and I was too exhausted to wipe them away, or even hide them. Still, I mustered the energy to twist my head in her direction.
The white light made her glow like an angel. She wore a rumpled, oversized T-shirt and pants. Her fiery hair had been collected into a messy bun on her head, and not a trace of makeup kissed her features. My tears spilled freely. She was so goddamn beautiful.
“How are you?” she asked.
My smile widened. “You’re here. I don’t have a problem in the world.”
She laughed wetly, and as my eyes adjusted, I spotted moisture in her gaze as well.
“Where am I?” I asked.
“A hospital in Jordan.” She smiled wryly. “You’ve been here for a couple days already.”
Days. Distantly, I wondered what I’d missed.
More immediately, I wondered if I could move my hand well enough to touch her face.
Thankfully, as I grew more and more conscious, the pain collected on my left side, and Paige was on my right.
I twitched my fingers, and a wave of exhaustion threatened to drag me under again.
It didn’t dampen my mood, though. I’d have all the time I needed to remind Paige how much I loved her.
“Carp had a friend in this country,” she continued. “Between the two of them, they found a way to get you into a proper hospital for surgery.” She swallowed. “It was close, Tom.”
My chest squeezed painfully. She’d been scared.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
She shook her head furiously. “Don’t apologize. If it weren’t for me, you never would’ve been in that house.”
“If it weren’t for you, I’d be half the man I am,” I murmured.
Paige smiled.
“And anyway, I wasn’t apologizing for that.”
She frowned. “What?”
My smile widened. “It sounds like I broke my promise. You had to find your way to my side.”
Paige laughed so hard tears spilled down her cheeks.
I started to laugh with her, but that triggered a coughing fit so intense I thought I might pass out from the pain alone.
As I crumpled into the hacking coughs, I discovered a tube jutting out of my side, between two of my ribs and right above a trail of stitches.
She sobered as I poked at the new attachment.
“The knife punctured your lung,” she said. “Apparently, that’s called a pneumothorax. They had to put the tube in to manage where the air goes.” Her lower lip quivered. “And make you keep breathing. You can’t leave safely for another few days at least.”
Fuck, it had been close. I would’ve given anything to be able to hug Paige right then, but given my hand experiment and how much the laughter had taken out of me, my hopes were low on that front. I twitched my fingers and hoped she understood that was the best I could do.
“Next time, I’m getting the vest with protection on the sides, too,” I said.
“Next time,” Paige repeated.
She didn’t sound happy. She sounded scared.
I frowned. Zahur was her last dragon, but there were so many women still to save.
I just assumed we’d be doing this together for the rest of our lives.
But that seemed to knock her right out of the conversation.
She stared worriedly at the tube in my side, not saying anything.
“Enough about me,” I said. “What about you? What happened?”
She snapped back to attention. “Zahur came to the hotel, but I’m fine.”
I shook my head. “I should’ve known the asshole wouldn’t just wait for us to get him. I should’ve known Mostafa would turn on us.”
She stroked the back of my hand. “It’s not your fault, Tom.”
“I guess.” I sighed. “But Killian got there in time? He killed Zahur?”
Paige looked away. “Uh, yeah. He got there in time.”
Something had changed, but through the haze of pain and exhaustion, I didn’t know what. “And Zahur?”
“Dead,” she replied.
That, at least, sounded normal.
She kissed me on the cheek. “Speaking of, Killian wants to see you.”
I wasn’t done seeing her yet. But she walked out of the room, and I had no ability to stop her. A moment later, Killian walked in and dropped into the chair on my right Paige had just vacated.
“I told you,” he said.
“Told me what, asshole?” I asked.
“That we should’ve gotten the vests with side protection.”
“No the fuck you didn’t,” I replied. “You wanted us to get medieval suits of armor. Over my dead body.”
Killian shook his head. “It almost was.”
He looked at me, and I saw the exhaustion in his eyes. He hadn’t left my side since he and Paige arrived, not even to sleep. I’d scared the shit out of him.
“I love you,” he said quietly. “And I’m sorry I didn’t get there in time.”
I blinked. “What? Paige said you did. You killed the bastard, right?”
Killian’s eyes widened as he looked at me, then the door Paige left through. “No, she did.”