Page 34 of Twisted Little Games (New York City Mafia #3)
Kirsten
I wait in the hallway, leaning against the wall and scrolling through a ton of messages on my phone while waiting for the doctor to leave Tristan’s room. I wish I could’ve stayed in there with him. I should have.
While I still care about my reputation, my career, it all feels insignificant to the man who took two shots meant for me.
I may not have known the mobster long, but if the bullets had killed him, I would’ve missed him more than anything else in this world.
He’s the only person who understands and cares about me.
Tristan may be a little violent and intense at times, but I like that about him. No, I love everything about him.
Finally, the doctor strolls out and sees me waiting. He flashes me a smile. “How did the bullet removal go?” I ask him.
Before he responds, he approaches me and flashes a light in my eyes, making me shrink away.
“Your pupils look normal. I think Mr. Ferraro will feel better if we get a head CT.”
“It’s just a little bump, and it’s stopped bleeding,” I tell him.
“You’re both stubborn. He’s refusing pain meds, and you’re refusing an exam.”
“Why is he refusing pain meds?” I ask in confusion.
“No idea.”
I have one. The insane man probably doesn’t want to risk getting drowsy or being incapacitated in case someone else tries to shoot me. Or he thinks we’re still going to have sex tonight and doesn’t want to pass out on me.
“He’s free to go once the nurse checks his vitals again. I’ll send her in and give you a prescription in case he changes his mind.”
“Thank you.”
“And you should probably leave out the morgue exit. There are reporters outside the emergency room and front lobby.”
“Right. That’s a great idea.”
“Good luck,” he says before he walks off toward the nurses’ station.
Before I go back in Tristan’s room, I scroll through the missed calls on my phone until I find the only one I want to return.
“DA Hunt, thank you for calling me back so fast,” Rob from The Post says in greeting. “Is it true that you were shot at tonight in front of the courthouse?”
“Yes, I was. And the two men in the vehicle shooting at me are dead thanks to Detective Daughtry. They were police officers with the NYPD and in a personal vehicle.”
“Wow. Okay. That’s what I heard as well, but there were no official reports yet. Anything else you can tell me?”
“Yes. I can also tell you who I think sent the men after me, and why they failed to kill me.”
“Do you think you can make it up the steps to your bedroom?” I ask Tristan while eying the bed where the horde of prostitutes once slept.
“There’s nothing wrong with my legs, so yes, I can make it up the steps. But I better hurry, since the pills you shoved down my throat are making me dizzy.”
“You’re in pain, so you need pain pills.”
“You’re a pain pill,” he slurs with a grin. “A smart, beautiful, pain pill.”
“Okay, you’re definitely high.” I keep my arm around his waist as we make our way up the narrow stairs.
When we reach his bedroom, Tristan flops down on the mattress, and I start untying his boots to remove them.
“Bad enough you made me wear your coat. Now, you’re taking my shoes?”
“You won’t need them while you sleep,” I tell him. Once his boots and socks are off, I reach for his pants.
“You ready to pop your ass cherry?” He smirks when I unzip his pants. “I’m game.”
“No, you’re not. And that’s not happening tonight. You’ll have to pop it another night.”
“Aw, man. I should’ve done it with the detective watching. I bet he’s a bottom, right? We should send him to the gelato shop. Let him scare the shit out of Emanuele. They would make a cute couple.”
I tug his pants off before I realize he’s not just talking gibberish, he’s actually conspiring to play matchmaker for the two men. “That’s not a terrible idea.”
“Just because I’m high, doesn’t mean we can’t fuck.”
“Hush.” I place my finger to his lips. “Tonight, we’re just going to cuddle.”
“You just want to cuddle?” He looks up at me with glassy eyes.
“Yes. I’m going to be the big spoon, and you’re going to be the little spoon.”
Tristan closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No. You’re so pretty.”
“You’re injured,” I remind him.
“I want to see your face. You’re too pretty to hide behind me. Unless bullets are flying…”
“You’re sweet. Just don’t do anything that hurts, okay?”
“Okay,” he agrees.
I go to the restroom to get ready for bed, and remove the plug before returning to Tristan.
He looks like he’s sound asleep, so I put his phone and mine on the charger, then turn off the light and slip underneath the covers with him.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, Tristan reaches out with his sore arm to pull me to his chest. I go rather than put up a fight about him hurting himself, just happy to be here in his arms.
Stubborn, sweet man.
He places a kiss on the top of my head, and I instantly drift off to sleep.