The Doctor's Marriage For A Month

Diego knew he wielded enough power with the thugs that all he had to do was say the word and they would pull her away. Disappear her. But he couldn’t load Cruzito into his boat and get on with things without his conscience bashing him in the head every five seconds. She was fighting for her family. And that spoke to him louder than anything else could.

He turned to El Loco. “Donde esta el Profesor?”

El Loco, the largest of the group replied. They had him “in custody.” El Jefe had rung when he’d heard about Cruzito and wanted “a word”.

Diego’s eyebrows shot up. A “word” could easily be accompanied by a bullet, followed by a mysterious disappearance.

This was his fault. He should be the one having a word. He hadn’t told anyone he was the one who had donated the land. Most people thought it was government property and, as such, would remain unfunded. Noche Blanca hadn’t realized until he’d got here that Doug MacLeay had come with more than his heart on his sleeve. He’d come with money. And the means to change the power structure on the island.

“Hello? Excuse me?” Isla MacLeay was waving a hand in front of his face. “I don’t suppose you have any oxygen in that magic bag of yours? His respiratory distress is increasing.”

Diego produced a small tank and deftly slipped the mask over Cruzito’s mouth and nose.

“And can I get that fourteen-gauge? I don’t think the chest tube can wait.”

“I don’t have any one-way valves on me. Just the catheter hub.” He opened his case, his hand automatically going to it.

“Do you have a pair of gloves?”

“Yes,” he said, passing them to her.

He watched as she deftly slipped the needle into the second intercostal space, then asked for a scalpel, surprising him when she cut the finger off one of the gloves, inserted it on top of the catheter hub and heaved a sigh of relief when it began to flutter as the air released and Cruzito’s gasping eased.

Impressive. The woman knew how to improvise. It was one of his specialties and he hadn’t seen that particular technique before.

Diego lowered his voice and tried to make it look as if he was speaking to Isla about treating Cruzito.

“Do you know how things work here? With Noche Blanca?”

“I’m getting a pretty good idea.”

And she 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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