Chapter 2 - He watched Norah like a trapped predator waiting for an opening.
She placed the basin on the nightstand.
No greeting.
“Time to wash.”
Norah reached for the first button of his pajama shirt.
Salvatore’s left hand lunged toward her throat.
Norah shifted aside and caught his wrist.
She did not shout this time.
“We can do this quietly.”
Her grip remained firm.
“Or Frank can hold you down while I wash you.”
She looked into Salvatore’s eye.
“And I know you don’t want your men watching you helpless and undressed.”
A pause.
“Lower your hand.”
Salvatore glared.
Beneath the hatred, Norah saw the humiliation.
This was a man who had lived through violence and power.
Now he required help to bathe.
Slowly, he lowered his hand.
Norah released him.
She washed him efficiently.
Not cruelly.
Not gently.
Clinically.
She moved the paralyzed right arm with respect for the joints rather than the ego attached to them.
Scars covered his body.
Old bullet wounds.
A long knife scar across the ribs.
A map of a violent life.
“You take your blood thinner with food today.”
Norah dried his neck.
“If you throw the plate, you get a feeding tube.”
She adjusted the towel.
“I cleared that with Dominic.”
“Your choice.”
Salvatore produced a rough sound.
The corner of his damaged mouth moved slightly.
Not quite laughter.
Recognition.
He knew she was not bluffing.
Downstairs, the house held a different kind of danger.
On her way to the kitchen, Norah passed the partially opened doors of Dominic’s study.
3 men in tailored suits stood in front of his desk.
They moved differently from the household guards.
Soldiers.
“The port shipment was short.”
1 of them spoke.
“Then find the person responsible.”
Dominic’s voice was completely flat.
“And take both hands.”
Norah slowed only slightly.
“I don’t care whether it was a union worker or 1 of our own captains.”
Dominic continued.
“Make it public.”
“Leave them by the containers.”
Norah kept walking.
Her pulse quickened.
She did not look toward the study again.
Her work involved the medical consequences of this world.
She wanted nothing to do with the machinery producing them.
For the next 3 days, a strange truce settled into Salvatore’s room.
He stopped throwing food.
He continued glaring.
Continued communicating with sharp grunts.
But he took medication.
Cooperated with exercises.
Followed instructions.
It was not respect.
Not exactly.
It was recognition.
Norah would not break.
And Norah gradually understood that beneath his rage was terror of complete dependency.
Dominic noticed.
On Thursday afternoon, he entered while Norah performed range-of-motion exercises on Salvatore’s paralyzed leg.
Dominic remained near the door.
As always.
Salvatore refused to look at him.
“He ate the fish.”
Dominic sounded almost curious.
“He needs protein.”
Norah bent Salvatore’s knee.
“We compromised.”
“I didn’t puree it.”
“I flaked it.”
“He normally throws fish at the wall.”
“We have an agreement regarding walls.”
Norah did not look up.
Dominic watched the exchange.
The silence between father and son filled the room.
Dominic remained at the edge.
Never approaching the bed.
“Keep it up.”
He turned toward the hall.
“The truce is refreshing.”
When he left, Salvatore released a low hiss.
“I know.”
Norah lowered his leg.
“But he signs the checks.”
She looked at him.
“So we tolerate him.”
Salvatore’s eye shifted toward her.
For an instant, something like amusement appeared.
Then vanished.
3 days later, at 2:00 a.m. on Sunday, violence reached the house.
Norah was awake in her quarters reading beneath a small lamp.
The estate was silent.
Then engines tore across the gravel outside.
Doors slammed.
Voices filled the foyer.
Norah left the bed and pulled a cardigan over her scrubs.
Through the cracked door, she heard boots pounding up the stairs.
Frank’s voice echoed down the corridor.
“Get the bag.”
“Call Doc.”
“Wake him up.”
Norah stepped into the hall.
Frank was helping Dominic upstairs.
Dominic’s arm was over Frank’s shoulder.
His face had gone pale.
His white shirt was soaked red near the left ribs.
Frank dragged him into the guest room opposite Norah’s door.
Another guard appeared carrying medical supplies.
“Doc’s in the city.”
The guard was breathless.
“He’s 1 hour out.”
“He doesn’t have an hour.”
Frank put Dominic onto the bed.
“He’s bleeding out.”
Dominic pressed his hand against his side.
Blood moved between his fingers.
Norah stopped thinking.
Years of emergency-room rotations returned.
She entered.
“Move.”
Frank turned.
“Get out, nurse.”
“He has a penetrating wound.”
Norah took the medical kit from the other guard.
“He has already lost at least 1 pint.”
She looked at Frank.
“By the time your doctor arrives, he’ll be hypovolemic.”
Her voice hardened.
“Move or watch him die.”
Frank looked toward Dominic.
Dominic’s eyes were glassy.
He gave a small nod.
Frank stepped aside.
Norah pulled on gloves.
“Cut the shirt.”
“Do not pull it off.”
“Rip it.”
Frank tore the expensive fabric.
The injury was a knife wound.
Deep.
Angled upward.
Somebody had come extremely close.
The blade had missed major organs but opened a significant vein.
Blood pooled beneath him.
“I need pressure.”
Norah pressed thick gauze into the wound.
Dominic arched.
A sharp gasp escaped him.
“Hold him.”
Frank pinned Dominic’s shoulders.
Another guard helped.
Norah leaned her body weight into the dressing.
Blood soaked through.
She replaced it.
Pressed again.
“Listen to me.”
She looked directly at Dominic.
“I’m clamping the vein and suturing the muscle.”
His eyes fought to remain open.
“There is no local anesthetic in this kit.”
“It will hurt.”
“Do it.”
Dominic forced the words between clenched teeth.
Norah worked.
Cleared the blood.
Found the lacerated vein.
Applied the hemostat.
Dominic shouted.
His body thrashed.
Frank kept him down.
Norah threaded a curved needle.
Her hands did not shake.
3 deep sutures closed the muscle.
10 more closed the skin.
6 minutes.
By the time she tied the last knot, Dominic was unconscious.
Norah stepped back.
Removed her gloves.
“He’s stable.”
She wiped blood from her own cheek.
“Keep him warm.”
“When your doctor arrives, tell him I gave 1 g of ceftriaxone.”
“Have him inspect the sutures.”
Frank studied the stitching.
Then Norah.
The hostility in his face had changed.
“You got ice in your blood, nurse?”
“No.”
Norah picked up her cardigan.
“I know how to stop a leak.”
She left.
In the bathroom, she washed her hands until they hurt.
Only after the water ran clear did the adrenaline collapse.
Norah gripped the sink.
She had saved the life of a crime boss.
The invisible line was gone.
She had touched the violence directly.
The following afternoon, Salvatore slept beside the window.
Norah sat nearby reading.
The door opened.
Dominic entered slowly.
He held his left side carefully.
A dark sweater concealed the dressing.
His face remained pale.
But the cold clarity had returned.
“The doctor said your work was flawless.”
Norah turned a page.
“He didn’t replace a single stitch.”
“I worked emergency medicine in the Bronx.”
“I’ve stitched worse.”
Dominic stopped in front of her.
“I owe you my life.”
Norah closed the book.
“You don’t owe me anything.”
“You pay me for medical care in this house.”
“Last night, you needed medical care.”
“That’s all.”
“That is not how this works.”
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“In my world, blood debt is absolute.”
“I’m not in your world.”
Dominic came closer.
The smell of antiseptic and expensive cologne reached her.
“You entered my world the day you came through those gates.”
His eyes locked onto hers.
“And last night made it permanent.”
Dominic raised his hand.
His thumb brushed lightly across the place on her cheek where his blood had dried hours earlier.
“Thank you.”
Then he left.
Norah remained beside the sleeping Salvatore.
For the first time, she wondered whether the son might become more dangerous to her than the father.
4 days passed.
The estate changed.
More guards.
Different faces.
Frank now wore a tactical vest openly.
The conflict outside had moved closer.
One morning, Norah stood in the kitchen with lukewarm black coffee.
Frank walked in.
“You look terrible.”
“I sleep fine.”
“No, you don’t.”
He opened the refrigerator.
“I hear you pacing.”
Frank drank from a bottle of water.
“You did good that night.”
Norah dismissed it.
“I clamped a vein.”
“You kept your head while the rest of us lost ours.”
Frank looked down.
“How’s the old man?”
“Angry.”
“Stubborn.”
“The usual.”
“Does he know Dominic got hit?”
“No.”
Norah shook her head.
“I’m not sure whether he’d laugh or have another stroke.”
“He wouldn’t laugh.”
Dominic stood in the doorway.
He entered carefully.
“My father built everything around loyalty and fear.”
He poured coffee.
“A hit on his son would insult the legacy.”
Dominic looked toward them.
“He would want the people responsible skinned alive.”
He sent Frank to check the front gate.
Then remained with Norah.
“You haven’t packed.”
“My contract is 6 months.”
Norah kept her tone neutral.
“I need the money.”
“It isn’t only money anymore.”
Dominic turned.
“You could have left yesterday.”
He watched her.
“I would have paid enough severance for you to buy a better home.”
“But you stayed.”
Norah set down the cup.
“I don’t abandon patients.”
“Is Salvatore the patient you’re staying for?”
Silence.
Dominic’s gaze searched her face.
Norah felt the pull toward him and hated its irrationality.
He was violent.
Embedded in blood.
She was trying to eliminate debt.
“I’m here to work.”
Her voice remained steady.
“Do not confuse obligation with anything else, Mr. Moretti.”
A faint smile appeared.
“Dominic.”
He nodded toward her.
“You’ve had your hands inside my chest.”
“I think formality is unnecessary.”
“Dominic.”
Norah tested the name.
He set down his coffee.
“Come upstairs.”
“I want to see my father.”
They entered Salvatore’s room together.
The old man sat near the window.
He did not turn when they arrived.
His posture stiffened.
Dominic stood beside him.
For a long time, neither spoke.
“They missed.”
Dominic’s voice was flat.
Salvatore’s eye shifted toward his son’s abdomen.
He noticed the stiffness.
The guarded movement.
A rough grunt demanded explanation.
“Knife.”
Dominic answered.
“At the docks.”
“1 of the lieutenants you promoted before the stroke.”
“He decided he was tired of taking orders from a kid.”
Salvatore’s face hardened.
“He’s dead.”
Dominic continued.
“Frank handled it before sunrise.”
Some tension left Salvatore’s shoulders.
He looked toward his son.
For the first time since Norah arrived, she saw something resembling respect.
Dominic turned toward her.
“She patched me.”
May you like
A pause.
“Saved my life.”
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