How To Own A Mafia Boss

Chapter 6: The Angel That Can Fall

They allow me back into his hospital room immediately after I come in the next morning.

"He's been asking for you," Joe tells me with a wink. "You sure know how to pick them."

I frown, "What does that mean?"

"Uh, you were just walking down the beach and found a tall, handsome man to rescue. Sure. That happens to anyone."

I glare. "Wait till I tell your husband you're eyeing other people."

He barks a loud laugh and saunters towards the general hallway. "Good luck with that. You think he'll believe a random woman over the man that gives him head every night?"

"I'm not a random woman," I growl back, before realizing what he said. Ew! Joe thrives on making me (and the general world population) cringe. The people that heard him didn't even bat a lash. We're all used to Joe by now.

The stranger is lying back the way he was this morning, watching my progression. It's rather predatory, even though I'm pretty sure he doesn't know what he's doing to me. He's the one lying prone on a hospital bed, but suddenly, I'm the one who feels powerless.

Who is this man?

"How are you doing?" I ask, taking a seat in the chair beside him despite how truly terrifying this moment is. "You went through a lot, you know? You fought for your life."

"You saved me," he says simply, seeming unwilling to drag out this conversation. "I don't know why you saw me and decided to risk your life for a worthless bastard, but I'm grateful."

I know he means it. "I don't think I did anything. You saved yourself. I just happened to be there." My voice is a whisper, mostly because I'm battling back tears. I didn't realize till now how relieved I am that he didn't die, dear God.

What would I have done?

He shakes his head. "Please, don't cry. I promise you, I've been through worse."

My tears disappear instantly. Because I realize what he's telling me, and...I stare at him, the wealth of knowledge that lurks beneath those gray eyes. "Did you really lose your memory?"

A troubled storm takes over his features, and I know it's because he's trying to decide whether to lie or not. In the end, he shakes his head silently. He's not going to lie to me, I realize. A certain camaraderie has sprung between us borne from our shared strength that day in the water.

"Who are you?" I ask helplessly.

A small smile crooks his lips. "I can't tell you that, Ashbourn Jean."

"Just AJ is fine," I reply reflexively, even though the sound of my name on his lips doesn't make me want to rip the world to shreds. "Who told you my name?"

"The nurse. Joe." Of course, that little f*cker would call my full name that way to a perfect stranger. "He had a lot of delightful things to say about you and this place — Nottingham. I've never been here before." His accent is a bit different — something exotic. Where did he come from?

"It's not fair that you know my name and I don't know yours," I say, curiosity digging its claws into me.

"I can't be that man anymore," he says with a shake of the head. "That's why I have a favor to ask of you, AJ. If the doctors know I didn't lose my memory, they'll alert the police and return me home. And the people after my life will definitely find me."

Why didn't I think of that? Of course, if they knew they didn't succeed in killing him, they'd be back. Oh, AJ, you fool. "Who are the people that tried to kill you? Maybe we can get help! Surely—"

"AJ," he whispers haltingly. And that's all it takes for me to melt. "I know it's too much for me to ask. You don't know who I am. You don't know what I've done, and why I almost died. You're curious and maybe a little angry on my behalf, but you still worry if you're on the side of the wrong guy. I get it. And I'm so sorry I'm going to ask you to do this."

I don't know what it is about his speech. Maybe it's because of what it took for a man of his stature to humble himself this way. He's now aware of his mortality if he wasn't before, and it makes me sad for him.

"I'm truly sorry you have to go through this," I say.

"Please don't apologize for something you had no hand in causing. Just hear me out. I need you to keep me with you till I get strong again. Don't tell anyone about this conversation. I promise you my loyalty the second I'm out of here."

I have a feeling his 'loyalty' is a pretty big deal. He doesn't know that I already made arrangements to move him to Quentin's old room above the bakery.

He continues, "As long as I'm in this place, nobody outside here will find out I'm alive."

I shake my head. "News travels fast. By tomorrow morning, everyone in Beachbay will know a stranger was rescued and is alive."

His eyes stay on mine, but I know his mind is a million miles away. Plotting something. "What are you saying?"

"That if the people after your life were to pop up to do a little check-in and make sure you're gone for good, all they need to do is talk to one Beachbayer and our secret is out."

He shakes his head. "They won't come back to find me."

"How are you so sure?"

"Long story short, I know how the shooter was trained. He knows to go here and here—" a long finger points at the wound in the middle of his chest, and the one beneath his left breast, "and he did just that. Right now, he's certain I'm dead weight in the middle of the ocean."

I shrug. "Just in case, I'll drop a few hints and let some people know that you're here because were almost killed, and to watch out for strange people. We protect our own. We can also start a rumor that another dead body showed up on the shores. Let's cover all the bases, shall we?"

His jaw tightens for a moment. I take it as an equivalent of showing emotion. "Thank you, AJ. You won't regret this."

"I still want to know your name." Before he builds up a protest, I interrupt, "I understand. But tell me just this once. For reference purposes, at least."

He looks at me as if to determine my certainty, then nods. "Very well. My name is Azrael."

I'm not very religious, but I know that name is owned by one of the Archangels. At least, I have a hint about his family. They must be religious, at least.

I try to make myself seem more open and comforting. Try to let him see that he can trust me with anything. "Okay. Do you want to tell me how you got here?"

That full, pale mouth twitches again in a half smile, "Let's just say that this angel fell."