When She Falls (The Fallen, #3)(84)

Gemma leans against me like she’s struggling to hold up her weight. I snake my arm around her waist and use my other hand to pull out a chair. “Sit down. You shouldn’t be on your feet.”

Gemma sinks into the chair, wincing in pain. Seeing her like this makes my heart clench. I dig inside my pocket for her meds and hand her the pill bottle. “Stop being stubborn and take two of these. You trying to win an award for being tough?”

She laughs weakly and winces again. “Don’t make me laugh. It hurts.”

I get her a glass of water and watch her swallow the pills.

“Happy?” she asks, giving me a shaky smile.

I squat down in front of her and cup her cheek. She’s trying to put on a brave face, but I can tell she’s still shaken up, and who can blame her?

That family doesn’t fucking deserve her. Thinking about what they’ve done to her stirs up my simmering rage, so I force myself not to ruminate on it. I need to keep a clear head.

“I’ll be happy when I know you’re no longer in pain,” I say as I brush her hair out of her face.

When I stand up, I see Orrin in the doorway of his back office watching us. He’s got a bundle of clothes in his hands and a pair of white sneakers. My body tenses when I see that his holster is no longer empty.

Is he going to give us up to Garzolo or Messero? I’m putting my trust in him mostly because of my history with his cousin, and because my gut tells me that I can, but it’s a gamble.

Orrin walks over and hands Gemma the clothes. “It’s a uniform. The only thing I have close to your size.”

“Thank you,” Gemma says quietly.

“Should she get checked out?” Orrin asks. “That bruise looks like it’s going to be nasty.”

“She already has been checked out. I was getting her medical attention when you called.”

Orrin links his hands behind his neck and gives a shake of his head. “Jesus. I’m sorry about what happened to you, Ms. Garzolo. I’m Orrin Petraki. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?”

“I’m all right, thanks,” Gemma says.

I wrap my hand over her shoulder. “Get her a tea. And then, you and I will go to your office for a chat while Gemma changes.”

“Sure, no problem,” he says while giving me a wary look, like he’s wondering exactly what the fuck kind of trouble I’ve brought to his doorstep.

Once Gemma has a steaming cup on the table in front of her, I follow Orrin into his office.

He sits down in the squeaky desk chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Care to explain what you’re doing? The last thing I want is for Messero to get word that his fiancé left her house and somehow ended up in my coffee shop with you.”

“I wouldn’t have come here if I had other options.”

“You think I don’t realize that?”

“I need to disappear for a while with Gemma.”

He laughs like he thinks I’ve lost my mind. “What the fuck are you talking about? And who are you to her exactly?”

The guy who’s going to do right by her, no matter what it takes or what it costs me. “I’m going to get her out of New York. I’m not giving her to Messero. I’m also not taking her back to the fucking house where her father just beat the shit out of her.”

Orrin hooks his thumb around the thick gold chain hanging off his neck and blows out a breath. “This is one of the worst ideas I’ve ever heard, and you haven’t met my cousin Hector, but trust me, that’s saying something.”

“I’ll pay you forty grand.”

He taps his index finger against his head. “This thing’s worth more than that.”

“Name a price, and I’ll pay it. No one knows we came here. No one in New York even knows you and I know each other.”

“Your boss does. Did he sign off on this genius idea of yours?”

At the mention of Damiano, something unpleasant runs through my veins. “Don’t worry about Damiano. He won’t fault you for helping a friend.”

“A friend?” Orrin cocks a brow. “I thought you were his underboss.”

When I don’t answer, he groans. “Fuck me. No, honestly, fuck me. This is what I get for having this friendly mug, isn’t it? If I looked like a mean motherfucker, you wouldn’t have come to me with this bullshit.”

“We need a way to get out of the country.” Orrin is my best bet for making that happen. Gemma doesn’t have a passport, and even if she did, Garzolo would be able to use it to track her, so we can’t just show up at the airport and catch a flight.

He sighs. “Ton chtýpise i malakía sto kefáli.”

I have no idea what that means, but I’m guessing it’s not particularly flattering. “You bring in your cargo by plane, don’t you? Where do those planes land?”

He gets out of his seat and paces the cramped space before kicking a half-empty crate of condensed milk cans. “I’m going to regret this.”

“You won’t. I’ll owe you.”

He snorts. “Unless you’re the luckiest man in the world, it’s highly likely you’ll be dead within a week.”

“Not if you help us get out.”

A few seconds tick by while he stares at me, just shaking his head like he thinks I’m out of my fucking mind.