ATONEMENT | MAFIA ROMANCE | SMUT

CHAPTER THIRTY

I stared at the woman in the mirror. She looked exhausted, cadaverous and depressed. On the brink of tears, she blinked droplets back and felt something sinister awaken.

My expression morphed into cold-blooded vanity before my very eyes.

Tossing bunched up tissue in the bin, I flung open the restroom door, ambled through the crowded waiting room and returned to the emergency unit where Brad and the others, all wearing worried expressions, waited for answers. I doubt anyone will take me seriously in satin pyjama shorts, six-inch heels and an oversized hoodie, but I no longer cared what people thought of me or how ridiculous I must look. "Any luck with a donor?" I asked Brad, espying Detective Donny Stevens by the nurses' station. "What's happening?" It's not unusual for Donny to be here. He's Vincent's close friend, after all. "Who called him?

Brad licked a toothpick to the corner of his mouth. "Donny claims he's a match," he said with an aura of suspicion. "I don't know why he's here. I'll question it later. For now, let's pray for the best outcome."

Donny relocated to a separate unit with two nurses.

Minutes felt like hours. Everyone amassed yet stood mutely. Josh ventured out twice to buy rounds of coffee, which most of us declined, and Nate occasionally answered phone calls to concerned syndicate members.

I sent Alfie text messages, asking him to take care of Logan.

Alfie: Logan is knocked out to the world, Ma'am.

Me: If he wakes up, just let him know I will be home later.

Me: And tell him not to panic.

Alife: Of course, Ma'am.

"What's taking them so long?" Brad's irritated voice hastened to a feverish pace. "You said the attacker missed vital organs, right?" The plump nurse peered up from behind the U-shaped desk. "Flesh wound?" Her eyebrow raised. "What the fuck is that face? Do you think this is funny? Look at us!" He signalled to the evident gloominess. "You need to get your ass to the surgeon and come back with updates."

"Mr Jones." She removed her overly large, black-framed reading glasses. "When I receive updates from the surgeons, I will put your mind at ease. Unfortunately, I cannot provide answers or reassurances at this moment in time." The vile harridan curled her lip. "Step away from the desk and stand by your friends, or I will be inclined to call security."

"Security?" Brad's tone of voice lowered to a dangerously dark undertone. "Have you met me?" His hands positioned onto the desk, and she eased back in the tattered leather computer chair to distance herself from him. "We don't take kindly to threats. That's your first mistake." Ripping the smartphone from her hand, he lunged it at the wall behind her. It rebounded with a loud bang and slid across the tiled floor, and she recoiled, glancing at her co-workers in astonishment. "They won't help. They know better. Now, walk down the hall and get me some answers before I take you to the nearest window to throw you out on your goddamn ass!"

Her mouth formed a circle. "Mr Jones..." Nate joined Brad's side. Together, they were an impenetrable force you didn't want to mess with; the woman, noting the threat in their eyes, in their corded bodies, slowly soared to her feet and slid behind the chair as if it could protect her from them. "Yes, absolutely. I will be right back."

I didn't even have the energy to watch her beat a hasty retreat.

Josh gently pinched my elbow. "How are you holding up?"

I gave him a subtle head shake. "I feel sick." Accepting bottled water from him, I downed enough to slake my thirst and kept a close eye on Brad, who's pacing back and forth in irritation. "He's seconds away from losing it."