The Doctor's Marriage For A Month. Annie O'NeilЧитать онлайн книгу.
clearly wasn’t impressed. What she should have been was scared. Her father’s life was in danger. Hers too. There was nothing win-win about this situation. The only way he could keep her alive for now was to make her crucial to Cruzito’s welfare.
“Help me bind this packing for the bullet entry wound and we’ll get him on the boat.”
It wasn’t a request.
She met his gaze, seemed to understand what he was saying and gave him a curt nod. She put the IV back between her chin and shoulder, then wound the gauze round Cruzito’s shoulder as Diego carefully raised him and held him steady so Isla could tightly secure the gauze in place.
He continued in a low voice. “Have you seen El Jefe?”
She shook her head no.
“He’s The Chief. The man who runs Noche Blanca. This is his son.”
Her shoulders stiffened but she continued to wrap. Most people would have run for the hills or broken down in tears. She took the information in silently.
She was obviously running on adrenaline. He knew the feeling all too well.
He’d been in her shoes seven long years ago, but he could still remember every second of that night as if it had just happened.
He swallowed back the memories and continued, “They’ve run the island for the past ten years or so.”
“Is this a turf war? Are there other gangs they’re fighting with?”
“No. It’s... There’s a complicated history on El Valderon. All of the islands round here—like tiny countries...” He paused and started again. “You know how a farmer likes to ‘know’ his fox?”
“What? Keep the fox sweet otherwise a meaner, bigger one will move in?”
“Precisely. That’s how it works here. There are other gangs who are much worse over in Latin America. Much more violent. This...” He nodded toward the hodgepodge squad of henchmen. “This is small-fry.”
He watched as she absorbed the information. Many visitors refused to understand. Couldn’t comprehend how might ruled over right. Especially on such a small island with a population under a million.
But fear, power and a very clear identity were effective means of gaining control. It was the way they’d won over his kid brother. A reedy teenager who hadn’t yet found his place in the world. They’d given him one. Then put him in the line of fire.
Diego didn’t know who he loathed more. The hospital for not treating him, Noche Blanca for putting him in front of a bullet, or himself for not seeing what was happening and forcing his brother to work for the family business.
He’d turned his loathing into action. Volunteering to treat any victim of violence, wherever they were, no matter the circumstances. No matter the danger.
“Your father’s ruffled a lot of feathers since he’s arrived here.” He met her solid gaze. Damn. He’d never known eyes to be so blue. Or so unwavering in their ability to meet his. “You don’t look surprised. I’m guessing you’re your father’s daughter.”
She huffed out a laugh. “Genetically? Yes.”
An invisible knife plunged into his gut and began to carve upwards toward his heart. Isla shouldn’t have to go through what he had. Endure the loss senseless violence could bring.
He tilted his chin up at El Loco—the universal man signal for Hey, pal, tune in.
In Spanish he asked if he could find out if El Jefe would bring Isla’s father to the clinic. The one hidden away from prying eyes.
“Estas loco?” The enormous bodyguard who had been with the gang since he’d been a teenager looked shocked.
“Sí.” He shrugged, as if asking for the impossible was just how he rolled.
It was crazy. But if Diego saved Cruzito, Noche Blanca would owe him a second favor. And he was going to call both of those favors in tonight.
“Call him.”
He flicked his head at the other men and issued a few quick instructions. They began forming a chain to load Cruzito onto the boat. He fixed his gaze on Isla.
“You ready for the ride of your life?”
Her jawline tightened and she arched an eyebrow. “Ready when you are.”
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