My Don Chose My Best Friend-So I Took His Empire novel · Chapter 8 of 24

Chapter 8: What He Kept

I drove the dock truck out of that lot with a bullet hole through the tailgate and Santino bleeding onto the passenger seat.

Two cars chased us as far as the Goethals Bridge.

Santino's men blocked the ramp behind us with a flatbed, and the headlights fell away.

His apartment was above the gatehouse at the yard, one room with a cot, a desk and a window over the cranes.

"Sit," I said.

"I'll do it myself."

"You can't reach it."

I pushed him down onto the cot and cut his jacket off with kitchen scissors.

The bullet had gone clean through the meat of his shoulder, front to back.

I knew what to do. I had trained as a nurse for two years before my father needed me at home, and Lidia had sat next to me in every class.

I did not think about that.

I washed my hands and flooded the wound with water.

Santino breathed through his teeth and looked at the ceiling.

"You've done this before," he said.

"On a mannequin."

"That's comforting."

"Hold still."

His shirt came off in my hands.

I had not seen him without a jacket in three years of Sunday dinners. He had a long white scar across his ribs and another on his forearm, and his skin was hot under my fingers.

I pressed the gauze to the wound and slid my other hand under his shoulder blade to hold him still.

My palm lay flat against his bare back.

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