“He was shot. Can you help him?”

I tuck away all the emotional reactions swirling in the front of my head and I jump to my feet. He’s a patient. A patient.

“Let’s take him to the hospital.”

“Negative,” Angelo says. “No hospitals.”

I know I can argue from here to tomorrow, but Jasper’s men are just like him; if they don’t want to do something, they won’t do it.

Besides, this must be because of criminal activities.

“Put him here.” I motion to the bed.

I try not to focus on how much blood he lost and fail. That’s a lot of blood soaking his shirt. Shit.

“Is there a medical kit here?” I ask Angelo as I rip the buttons off Jasper’s shirt.

“I can check with Salli.”

“Do it, now! And get hot water.”

I take my first look at the wound. It’s a graze, there’s no bullet, but it’s a deep graze that hit vessels and it’s why he lost a lot of blood. It’s been oozing out of him for a long time, hours I assume.

“Jasper!” I hit his cheek. “Jas, come on, open your eyes.”

They move behind his lids but he doesn’t open them. I need to stop the bleeding and stitch him up fast.

“What have you gotten yourself into this time, you idiot?” I try to use my stern nurse voice but it comes out as something close to a sob.

His pulse is steady so that’s a good sign. On the other hand, his breathing is slightly choppy.

“You asshole.” I press on his wound and he groans. “What did you do to get yourself shot, huh?”

His lids move again and his lips part but he says nothing. A drop falls on his cheek and I realize it’s coming from me. I’m crying. I’m not supposed to cry when I take care of a patient.

This isn’t a patient, though. It’s Jasper.

“Here.” Angelo barges inside carrying a box that has the red cross logo on it. “Salli is bringing the hot water.”

I wipe my eyes and get to work.

Surprisingly, the box has most of what I need. I get the tweezers, soak them with isopropyl alcohol and remove the pieces of tissue stuck inside and then I clean the wound.

Salli, Angelo and even Enzo join me. Salli helps me as if she’s the nurse and I’m the doctor. She doesn’t even look away when I stitch the wound. Most people don’t like seeing flesh being sewn together, but Salli and everyone here aren’t normal people.

They all come from a brutal world where gunshots are normal.

In my world, gunshots only belong in the ER, and while I worked there, I never got used to them.

And now that Jasper is the victim of one of them, I’m on the verge of a breakdown. I keep thinking of all the scenarios this could go into. My hand shakes and I take deep breaths to regulate it before I continue.

After I inject him with antibiotics, I hand Salli a list of what I’ll need. She leaves saying she’ll have her son get them.

“What happened?” I ask Angelo, my voice low and thick with emotion.

“He was shot by Lucio’s men when we were leaving.” Angelo talks while still standing at the entrance.

Enzo has made himself at home and is sitting on the chair by the bed.

“Lucio’s men came here?” I ask, closing the lid of the box.

Angelo stares at Enzo as if asking permission from him to talk.

“They were in the States,” Enzo says in a monotone voice. “Your family is finishing what they started decades ago.”

“You were in the States?” I stare at Angelo, unbelieving. “Why didn’t you get his wound treated there? It might get infected.”

Angelo keeps his rigid posture. “He didn’t want to.”

“If he stayed there, Lucio would’ve killed him for sure.” Enzo pauses. “Or is that what you want, Costa?”

“I don’t know what your problem is with me, but you need to stop.” I jut my chin. “If I wanted him dead, I would’ve done it just now.”

Enzo continues staring at me with his unmatched eyes but doesn’t say anything.

Angelo disappears outside, leaving me in my silent war with Enzo. I ignore him and focus back on Jasper, checking his temperature.

It’s climbing. Damn it. He has an infection. But then again, with the time he spent bleeding, it would’ve been a surprise if he didn’t.

The sound of mewing gets me out of my thoughts. Angelo appears in the entrance carrying two cat cages with Mr. Bingly and Mrs. Hudson inside.

“He made a stop to get them,” Angelo says. “That’s how he got shot.”

All my attempts to fight the need to cry fail. I couldn’t stop even if I wanted to.

He went back to get my cats. He did this for me.

Damn him.

Damn him to the darkest pits of hell.

I wrap my hand around his neck and brush my lips against his as I let the tears loose.

“Don’t you dare leave me, Jas. Don’t you fucking dare.”

11

Jasper

A few weeks have passed and my injury still hurts like a fucking bitch.

You know those times when your skin hates you and kind of starts attacking you? Yeah, me neither.

It’s called infection and my little Petal has been doing her best to get rid of it, or rather to stop me from spiraling down that path. She cursed me, too, in the meantime, always reminding me of how stupid I was when I came all the way back here when I could’ve gotten treated back in the States.

She’s so fucking adorable when worried and acting like a stern nurse. And yes, it’s like porn, and yes, she fucked and sucked me like in those nurse fetish movies.

I can’t get over how our kinks keep expanding over time.

Now, however, she’s making me take a walk because I need fresh air and Vitamin D from the sun or what-the-fuck-ever. The only reason I’m going along with this is because I get to wrap my arm around her waist, tuck her to my side, and show her to the entire fucking world.

The workers at the grapery nod in respect whenever we pass by. My little Petal has learned enough Italian to greet them back and even accept the grapes some of the workers wash for her.

I glare at a boy who watches her with admiration in his light blue eyes. He can’t be older than seventeen, but I still want to poke his fucking eyes out for staring at her. Who does he think he is to show me this type of disrespect? To look at what’s mine as if he has every right to?

His father seems to understand my sign and scolds him in low murmured Italian words.

“Why is he yelling at him?” my little Petal asks me as she sucks on a grape.

For a second, I’m lost in the way her lips wrap around the fruit before it disappears inside her mouth. Fuck me. She’s like an erotic dream come true.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” I answer her question.

She narrows her eyes. “Why do I not believe that?”

I lift my good shoulder as I whisk her away from the workers’ field of vision. It’s not the season of olives, so fewer are on this side.

Even though Petal’s dressed in a simple floral dress that matches the spring sky, I don’t like that anyone can look at the hints of skin showing through the cloth.