Page 2 of Brox Boar

“I know. But you know that can’t happen before we finish dealing with Valentino’s shit.”

The light turns green; he pushes the accelerator in response, and the Corvette surges forward.

“Let’s talk to her,” I say. “Ask her what she wants.”

“She wants us,” Rio says at once, stubborn. “You saw her last night. You heard what she said.”

I heard all of it. Every moan, every curse, every broken, ‘Don’t stop, please.’ But there’s a question she didn’t quite let herself ask. How would this, what she got herself into, impact her life?

“Yeah,” I say roughly. “I heard.”

We turn down a narrower street that leads to the club. The building rises at the end of the road, the sign discreet, just a stylized two wild boar’s heads above the door. Daytime makes it look almost respectable. At night, the queue wraps around the block, and trouble comes dressed in designer clothes.

Rio swings the car around, tires splashing through a shallow puddle, and drives inside the garage. Before he can cut the engine, my cell vibrates. At the same time, Rio’s cell starts buzzing, too.

I glance at my screen. Unknown local number.

Rio fishes his cell out and looks down. His mouth twists. “Italy.”

Ignoring him for a second, I tap green and put my call on speaker. “Brox.”

“It’s Morti.” Morti’s voice fills the car, edged with nerves. Alessio’s so-called bodyguard. “We have a problem.”

Rio stops mid-movement, his own cell still buzzing in his hand.

“What problem?” I ask.

“We’re at the hospital,” Morti rushes on. “They did morning rounds, and they said they’ll need to examine Alessio’s wound properly tomorrow before discharging him.”

My jaw clenches. “Tell them he’s fine.”

“I did. But they’re talking about scans. They’re talking about calling in another consultant. They keep mentioning protocols.”

I can hear the murmur of hospital noises on his end – announcements, trolley wheels, distant beeps. It sends my pulse into a quicker rhythm.

Morti drops his voice. “They can’t see his gunshot wound,” he says. “Brox, if they see it, they’ll call the police, they’ll report it, they–”

“Morti.” I cut him off. “Stop. Take a breath.”

He sucks in a ragged inhale.

Beside me, Rio hits the side button to silence his cell without answering it. The Italian number disappears from his screen for now. He leans closer, listening.

“You said they want to look at it tomorrow, not that they already are,” I say.

“Not yet.” Morti’s voice tightens. “Right now they’re talking in front of the curtain. They think I can’t hear them.”

“Okay,” I murmur, thinking. “You keep them out until we fix it.”

“How?” He sounds close to losing it now. “They’re doctors. I can’t push them. It’ll look–”

“We’ll sort it,” Rio cuts in. “Relax. We’ll get someone there to make sure they see what they’re supposed to see.”

Morti seizes on that. “The girl?” he asks quickly. “The nurse?”

My eyes meet Rio’s. Fuck. Are we going to ask her to do this again after what she went through?

“Yeah,” Rio says slowly. “Her.”