"We were still lucky," I said, looking out the window. I laughed bitterly and set my tumbler down. "A few seconds later, and I would for sure not need that damn Creatine I bought today."
He finished his glass and nodded. “I’m glad that you’re mostly unhurt. Come, let’s see how Miss Mendosa is doing and then call the lawyer just in case you two were spotted on any cameras."
As always, my father had a point. "All right. Thanks for the drink."
We left his office to go down to the gym, where we found the doctor still with Luisa, who'd woken up in the time she was on the table. He was checking her eyes with his penlight and looking carefully. "Well, I don't think you have a concussion, Miss Mendosa, but I'd still be careful for a while. That laceration on the back of your scalp was pretty nasty. I had to put in thirty stitches."
She nodded slowly, laying still. "How long will they be in?"
"I'd say you can have them taken out in a week. If you're still in town, I'd be happy to do it," he said, putting his light away. He turned to see Dad and me walk into the room, and he smiled. “Other than a ruined suit and a nasty little scalp laceration, I'd say she’s okay.” He turned to me. “How's the ear, Tomasso?"
"I can hear now," I said, turning to the side while the man got his little device out of his bag and checked me out. "Guess that one just took more of a blast than the other."
"That, and you need to clean your ears out better," the doctor grumped, and Luisa chuckled on the massage table. The doctor smirked and gave me a wink. "No, seriously, you're okay. I'm sure you're a busy man, so I’m going to get out of your way.”
He left, leaving Dad, Luisa and myself in the room. I looked down at Luisa, whose suit was pretty trashed. “Thanks for having me seen to, Don Bertoli."
He shook his head and came over, putting his hand on Luisa's shoulder when she struggled to get up. "It was nothing, Miss Mendosa. After you recover some, we should contact your father. The man who ran you over is a member of a radical eco-terrorist organization, and while I doubt you were specifically targeted, we should get you protected just in case. What do you remember about him?"
"His eyes and the scar on his face," Luisa said, before describing what she’d seen. "I'm sure that makes him stand out quite a bit."
"For sure, but first, we should talk to our lawyer. No offense, but for families in our line of work, a talk with the police isn’t always the smartest thing. Or at least, an unchaperoned talk."
Luisa smiled and slowly sat up, revealing the large mass of stained hair from where the blood had soaked in. "I understand. This isn’t Brazil, where the Porto Alegre chief of police is a cousin of mine, bought and paid for. Your Seattle police are probably a bit more honest than mine."
"They aren't family," Dad acknowledged. “That’s all that matters. But come. First, let’s get you a shower—you look like hell. My niece still has some clothes here. Maybe you can wear some of her things while I send someone to your hotel to get your things."
"Don Bertoli, I don't think that would be necessary," Luisa protested, stopping when Dad held up his hand.
“You could be in danger. Until we know for sure you weren’t the target, I insist that you stay under my protection for the rest of your stay in Seattle. My son will be responsible for your immediate safety."
Dad turned and walked out of the gym, leaving behind an obviously pissed off Luisa, who stared at the door before looking at me. "Well?"
"He's a stubborn man," I explained simply, refusing to be baited into an argument to let off her anger. "Come on. The gym has a shower, and you've got a lot of blood in your hair. Doc didn't say anything about you washing up some, but speaking from experience, be careful with the scrubbing. Angelo's got a scar on the back of his head from a bike accident when we were kids, and he ripped the sutures open by accident washing his hair afterward."
"And clothes?" Luisa asked, looking at her suit. "Should I just wear this nasty mess?"
"You didn't listen very well, did you?" I said with a smirk. "He said Adriana left some things here for when she visits. She's shorter than you, but she always did like longer t-shirts for when she was painting. I'll get you some shorts too, if that's okay."
Luisa growled, but nodded. "Can you show me to the shower, at least?"
"Sure," I replied with a chuckle. I showed her the small locker room, which was normally used by the staff members who didn't live in the mansion but still wanted to use the room. "From what I remember, the water pressure's not too strong, but be careful still."
"Can you leave me alone long enough to risk showering alone, or will these terrorists come charging in while you’re fetching a t-shirt?"