Chapter 6 - He Took the Bullet Meant for MeEverything happened at once.
Lynn raised the gun.
Mateo moved.
The shot exploded.
I hit the floor.
Mateo landed on top of me.
For one insane second, I thought we had escaped.
Then I felt something warm spreading across my hands.
Blood.
Mateo’s blood.
“No.”
Luca fired.
Lynn screamed.
The gun clattered across the floor.
Security alarms erupted.
I rolled Mateo onto his back.
The bullet had entered below his shoulder.
“Mateo.”
His eyes found mine.
“You okay?”
“You got shot!”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes!”
“Good.”
Then his eyes closed.
My training took over.
Pressure.
Airway.
Breathing.
Pulse.
“Call trauma!”
People ran.
I pressed both hands against the wound.
“Stay with me.”
Mateo opened his eyes.
“Elena.”
“Don’t talk.”
“You’re bossy.”
“You can complain after surgery.”
He smiled weakly.
Then monitors arrived.
Doctors.
Nurses.
My colleagues.
Suddenly I was not Nurse Cruz.
I was the woman covered in the blood of someone she could not admit she loved.
They took him away.
I stood in the corridor.
My hands were red.
Luca remained beside me.
“He knew,” I whispered.
“What?”
“He knew the bullet was coming.”
Luca said nothing.
“He moved before Lynn fired.”
“Yes.”
“He took it for me.”
“Yes.”
My knees gave out.
Luca caught me.
For the next three hours, I waited.
Isabella arrived.
Then Sofia.
Then men I did not know.
Powerful men.
Dangerous men.
All asking the same question.
Would Mateo Falcone live?
Finally, Dr. Bennett emerged.
“He’s stable.”
I nearly collapsed again.
“The bullet missed the subclavian artery by less than a centimeter.”
I closed my eyes.
“He’ll recover.”
Isabella hugged me.
I cried against her shoulder.
When Mateo woke, I was beside him.
His eyes opened slowly.
“Hospital?”
“Yes.”
“I said no hospitals.”
“You were unconscious. Democracy temporarily suspended.”
He smiled faintly.
Then he looked at my face.
“You cried.”
“No.”
“Elena.”
“You were shot.”
“So?”
“So normal people cry when idiots get shot protecting them.”
His smile disappeared.
“I’d do it again.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.”
“Mateo.”
He reached for my hand.
Weakly.
I let him take it.
“I couldn’t watch you die.”
My throat tightened.
“You barely know me.”
“I know enough.”
“That isn’t romantic.”
“I wasn’t trying to be romantic.”
“You’re terrible at it.”
“Probably.”
I laughed through tears.
Then leaned forward and kissed his forehead.
“You scared me.”
“I’m sorry.”
That was the first time Mateo Falcone apologized without qualification.
It mattered more than it should have.
Lynn survived.
His wound was nonfatal.
The FBI took him into custody.
The ledger went to Agent Reeves.
Within forty-eight hours, warrants were issued.
Accounts frozen.
Properties searched.
Three city officials arrested.
Two detectives suspended.
Carlo Rossi disappeared.
Mateo remained in the hospital.
For once, the most dangerous man I knew was forced to stay in bed.
He hated it.
“This food is criminal.”
“You would know.”
He glared.
I smiled.
Something had changed between us.
Neither of us named it.
Then, on his fourth day, Agent Reeves visited.
He closed the door.
“Rossi contacted us.”
Mateo’s expression hardened.
“What does he want?”
“A deal.”
“For what?”
Reeves looked at me.
“For Elena.”
My stomach tightened.
“He says he has information about Daniel Cruz’s death.”
I stopped breathing.
“What information?”
“He claims he can prove who ordered it.”
Mateo immediately said, “No.”
I looked at him.
“No what?”
“You’re not meeting him.”
“He knows who killed my father.”
“He claims he knows.”
“I need the truth.”
“He’s using it to draw you out.”
“I know.”
“Then no.”
Anger flared.
“You don’t decide.”
“Elena.”
“You took a bullet for me. That does not give you ownership of my choices.”
His expression changed.
Pain.
Not physical.
“You’re right.”
Reeves watched us.
I continued.
“But I’m not stupid. I’m not walking into some warehouse alone.”
Mateo sat straighter.
“You’re not walking anywhere near Rossi.”
“I want to hear the plan.”
Reeves explained.
Controlled meeting.
Federal surveillance.
Wire.
Backup teams.
Mateo hated every word.
I understood.
But my father had been dead fourteen years.
I had lived fourteen years believing weather and bad luck had killed him.
I needed the truth.
The meeting took place two nights later.
Rossi chose an abandoned restaurant near the river.
I wore a wire.
Mateo watched from an FBI command van.
Before I left, he caught my hand.
“If anything feels wrong, you walk.”
“I know.”
“Elena.”
“I know.”
His eyes searched mine.
Then he pulled me toward him and kissed me.
Not cautiously.
Not accidentally.
Like a man who had spent days imagining losing me.
When we separated, I whispered, “What was that?”
“Insurance.”
“Against what?”
“Regret.”
I touched his face.
“Then come back to me after this.”
His expression softened.
“Always.”
I entered the restaurant.
Carlo Rossi waited inside.
He was older than Mateo.
Silver at his temples.
Perfect suit.
Cold eyes.
“You look like Daniel,” he said.
My chest tightened.
“You knew my father.”
“Very well.”
“Did you kill him?”
Rossi smiled.
“No.”
“Who did?”
He leaned forward.
“Mateo’s father.”
My blood froze.
“That’s a lie.”
“Ask Mateo why his father’s signature appears on the order.”
He slid a document across the table.
There it was.
Vittorio Falcone.
A payment.
A date.
Two days before my father died.
My hands began shaking.
“Your father discovered too much,” Rossi whispered. “Falcone had him removed.”
In my ear, Agent Reeves said, “Stay calm.”
Then another voice.
Mateo.
“Elena, don’t believe him.”
Rossi smiled.
“He’s listening, isn’t he?”
He reached beneath the table.
I thought gun.
Instead, he pressed a button.
Static exploded in my earpiece.
The connection died.
Doors opened behind me.
Armed men entered.
Rossi stood.
May you like
“Now we can speak privately.”
And I realized the FBI plan had just failed.
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