Uninvited Armed Guests

The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital lobby burned her tired eyes as Cora scribbled her initials on the sign-out sheet.

She needed to get back and check on the unconscious man bleeding on her narrow sofa. Handing the clipboard to Nadia with a brief wave, she headed straight for the underground garage.

The concrete cavern of the parking structure was unusually quiet. Four massive, blacked-out SUVs sat idling near the exit ramps. A prickle of unease crawled up the back of her neck. She tightened her grip on her bag, forcing herself to walk past them and toward the residential elevator bank.

"Good afternoon," she said to the attendant, stepping into the metal box.

"Good afternoon, Miss Vance." He punched the button for the fifth floor.

As the car rattled upward, she caught him staring at her through the reflective steel panels. He kept shifting his weight, opening his mouth and then clicking it shut. The look in his eyes wasn't just nervous. It was pure, unfiltered pity.

She didn't have the energy to pry it out of him. The chime pinged for her floor.

"Thank you," Cora told him.

He offered a tight, grimacing nod.

She stepped out into the quiet corridor and walked straight to her unit. Digging her keys out, she unlocked the door and pushed it open.

The apartment was pitch black.

She reached blindly for the wall plate and flicked the switch.

The bulbs flickered on, and she slammed her back against the doorframe. Her breath hitched, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat.

"Who are you?" a voice demanded. The tone was absolute ice, freezing her in place.

A man sat on her cheap sofa. He wore an immaculate, dark tailored suit that strained across his broad chest. His dark hair was pulled back into a neat tie at the nape of his neck. His face was rigid, angular, and deeply intimidating.

Six massive men flanked him. Every single one of them was holding a suppressed firearm.

A vague sense of familiarity brushed her exhausted mind, but the immediate threat drowned it out.

"Who are you?" the man barked, his voice vibrating through the small room.

Cora forced her trembling knees to lock. Did they follow the blood trail from last night?

"Excuse me?" she shot back, keeping her face completely blank. "I think I'm the one who gets to ask that."

She stared directly into his dark, predatory eyes.

"Who are you, and what the hell are you doing inside my apartment?" she demanded.

The man tilted his head. A slow, dangerous smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

He pushed off the couch and closed the distance between them in three long strides. The sheer size of him blocked out the ceiling light.

Cora refused to step back. She held her ground, maintaining unbroken eye contact even as a cold sweat broke out along her spine.

"If you don't start speaking this instant," he growled.

His hand shot out. He grabbed a thick fistful of her hair, yanking her head back. For a split second, his fingers stalled in the strands, a brief look of absolute surprise crossing his harsh features at the unexpected texture.

Then the cold metal barrel of a pistol slammed directly against her temple.

"I'm gonna fucking pull this trigger if you—"

The room violently tilted. The adrenaline that had kept her standing completely evaporated, replaced by a suffocating wave of heat and dizziness.

Her knees buckled. Total darkness swallowed her vision, and she collapsed forward.

The man caught her before she hit the floor, sweeping her up into a firm hold.

He pressed his palm against her forehead.

"She's burning up," he snapped.

He turned his head toward the armed guards.

"What the fuck are you standing there for? Get the car ready now!"

Tires screeched to a halt outside the emergency entrance fifteen minutes later. The guards piled out, securing the perimeter and pulling the rear door open.

The man stepped out onto the pavement, still carrying Cora in his arms. He bypassed the triage desk and strode directly toward the elevators, heading for the prepped VIP wing.

Nadia was rushing down the corridor with a mobile stretcher, flanked by two orderlies. When she saw the woman slung across the terrifying stranger's chest, she stopped dead.

"Dr. Vance?" Nadia yelled, her voice echoing off the tile.

The man paused. He looked at the nurse, a heavy scowl settling over his features. "Dr. Vance?"

"Yes, sir," Nadia stammered, shrinking back but holding her ground. "She just signed out an hour ago. What... what happened to her?"

The bodyguards tensed, clearly waiting for their boss to order the nurse dragged away.

Instead, Lorenzo Falcone shifted Cora's weight against his chest and actually answered.

"She fainted," he stated flatly.

He didn't wait for a response, carrying her straight into the expansive suite.

Thirty minutes passed. Lorenzo sat in a plastic chair near the bed, his gaze locked on her pale face.

The heavy door creaked open. Dr. Preston shuffled in, clutching a clipboard to his chest like a shield.

"Good afternoon, sir," Preston managed to squeak out.

Lorenzo did not blink. "What is wrong with her?"

"Severe exhaustion and a lack of sleep," the doctor babbled, his hands shaking violently as he thrust a printed sheet of lab results forward. "It caused a sudden drop in blood pressure. These are the readouts—"

Lorenzo scoffed. "You expect me to read the result?"

He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lethal calm.

"I want your resignation letter on my desk in ten minutes. If you want to keep breathing, you'll find a new career."

Preston's legs gave out. He hit the floor, dropping the clipboard with a loud clatter.

"Please, sir, I beg you! I have a family. Revoking my license will ruin me!"

Lorenzo looked at the weeping man with total disgust.

"Rocco!" he roared. "Get this bastard out of my sight!"

The shout shattered the quiet room.

Cora jerked awake, gasping for air. She rubbed her eyes with a heavy hand, wincing at the blinding fluorescent lights. "What is going on in here?"

Rocco froze mid-step, dragging the sobbing doctor by the collar.

Lorenzo turned around. He looked at the woman sitting up in the hospital bed, and his breath hitched. The harsh overhead lighting caught the natural angles of her face. Stripped of the dark shadows of her apartment, she was stunning. He stood there, completely speechless.

Cora dropped her hand. She stared at the man looming near the foot of her bed.

"It's you from earlier," she said, her voice raspy but sharp.

She didn't cower. She just glared at him.

"Why were you in my apartment, and why am I back in the hospital?"

He didn't answer.

"And how dare you point a gun at me?" she snapped, the anger finally bleeding through her exhaustion.

"I... I..." Lorenzo started.

Rocco nearly dropped the doctor. Both men stared at their boss in absolute shock. The ruthless head of the Falcone family was stammering.

"I am Don Lorenzo Falcone," he finally managed to say, squaring his shoulders as if the title would silence her.

Cora just looked tired and deeply annoyed.

"Am I supposed to know you?" she asked.

She looked him up and down.

"And what does your name have to do with breaking into my house and shoving a gun in my face?"

Lorenzo gritted his teeth. He flicked his wrist toward the door. Rocco immediately hauled the blubbering doctor out into the hallway and pulled the door shut behind them.

The room went completely silent.

Lorenzo took a slow step toward the bed. He reached up to his chest and began undoing the buttons of his suit jacket.

Cora’s breath caught in her throat. The familiar motion of a large man stripping off his clothes in a locked room slammed into her chest like a physical blow. The old memories ripped through her mind, dragging her straight back to the abuse.

A cold sweat broke out across her skin. Her hands started to shake violently against the blanket.

"What..." she choked out, shrinking back against the pillows. "Are you... trying to do?"

The raw terror in her cracking voice made Lorenzo freeze. His fingers dropped away from the buttons.