Married To The Mafia: Book II

16 - The Knight.

"Idiots!" Cain muttered as he clutched an ice pack to his head.

When he had fainted, he had hit his face on the floor and one eye had been bruised. The bruised eye was swollen nearly shut, but he didn't need two eyes to see that he had failed. And he blamed it all on the incompetent guards he had brought to help him.

He had awoken in Pamela's room and was disgusted to have seen them out on the floor like dummies. His head throbbing with pain, he had gone to the bathroom and had dumped a bucket of water on them.

The fool, Harrison had the guts to say that Pamela had been the one who had taken him down. He could still understand James who had been knocked out by a man but Harrison? How could a mere woman take him down? How dumb was he?

"We're sorry sir." They said in unison.

The sound of an ambulance wail made him swallow the acid reply he had been working up for the blockheads. He angrily stoned the icepack at a wall and made his way downstairs. To his surprise, not only was there ambulance, but also the police and the press with their news vans.

His heart skipped when he saw his superiors, Maya Johnson and Art Dwayne. He hated the looks they had on their faces, especially Dwayne. How the fuck was he going to explain his reason for being in Pamela's house? What was he going to do? Was it over for him? If he was caught his skeletons would be dropping out of his closet, one by one and that would end him.

His eyes lit up when an idea struck him. Halfway to the ambulance van, his knees buckled and he almost went down. Thankfully, two cops were nearby and they had rushed to support him. A gurney was rolled towards him and he was strapped on one. Reporters pounced on him, asking him myriad questions.

"Mr. Rodgers cannot make a comment right now." Johnson said and signaled for the EMTs to shut the van and leave. "We will give you a report later on."

That was the last he heard before a drip was passed into his arm. The sedative was so heavy that he couldn't help but succumb to it. He didn't fight it anyway, he had a plan that was going to work perfectly well. But for this evening, he would gladly give in to rest.

When he awoke, he felt very hot, and his head pounded. He sat up and looked around. It was daybreak and he was in a hospital room with another patient who was asleep. A drip was being passed to him and his side was filled with dozens of flowers pilled so high that Cain couldn't see the man's face.

He chuckled. The average American. Has kids, doting wife, caring parents, neighbors that dropped by to borrow sugar. It annoyed him to have been put in a room with the man. Not that he was jealous, no, he just hated things like that.

He turned away from the patient and was surprised to find a bouquet of roses on his bed side table. Who the hell would send him flowers? Probably the nurses had thought he would be depressed to see his roommate with lots flowers and him without and thought to give him one. How thoughtful.

Whatever the case was, was he ignored it. He looked around to see if he could leave. He hated being static. He ran his hand over his bandaged scalp and his swollen eyes. It seemed the swelling had reduced.

He looked into the direction of the door when he heard a doctor and a nurse come in.

"Mr. Rodgers. How are you feeling?"

"So-so."

The doctor checked the dressing covering his wound. Cain moaned when he peeled the bandage off to take a look. "Hurts bad?"

"You have no idea."

He applied his stethoscope to several spots on his chest. "Your heart beat is good, strong in fact. Your vitals are too." He looked at the nurse. "Replace his IV bag and get him something to drink."