Mr. and Mrs. Rossi

The brave chica moved around to the back of her car to face off Little Mexico’s notorious leader, gun still in her hands. “It’s Harley.”

“A name like my favorite ride,” Alfaro glanced over his shoulder for reassurance of his funny joke from his minions and got it. The laughter from the audience made Dante’s blood boil. “Can I ride you?”

“You can try,” Harley loosened aim.

“I have a feeling I might get hurt in the process. Put your weapon down, you’re out numbered here but I assure you, no harm will come to you.”

“Your feelings are right,” Harley flashed him a flirtatious smile. Dante recognized it because he’d received the same one last night. She holstered her gun into the back of her pants.

“What is a pretty lady like yourself doing carrying such a big gun?”

“Well, just as you said,” Harley kept her hands in her back pocket, the position made her breasts stand out further, “I am a pretty lady venturing out in this side of town, notorious for crime.”

Alfaro walked right in front of Harley and stood toe to toe by the time Dante reached the edge of the crowd. “Crime? In my neighborhood?” Alfaro laughed again and this time did not need reassurance from his minions, the crowd laughed automatically. “The only crime that seemed to be committed was when you blocked the street so my men couldn’t see who was shooting at us.”

“I caused?” Harley’s voice went up a range. “Here I am driving around lost when someone starts shooting.” She blinked. Dante caught the innocence she portrayed to Alfaro and wondered if he should nominate her for best dramatic actress. “I turned down the wrong street and almost rammed the front of my car into the car that just left and your men,” she nodded her head toward the men behind Alfaro, “started shooting. Who is going to pay for my damages? This car is a classic. Does car insurance pay for bullet holes?”

“Really? So what you’re saying is you’re lost?”

Harley shrugged her shoulders effortlessly, “Yes, and now I am extremely late for a barbecue.”

“You looking to party?”

The half laugh and half sarcastic chuc

kle she gave him—priceless. Dante smiled to himself and watched the interplay. Harley didn’t scare easy. He assumed she developed a thick skin from photographing scary images such as the one from this morning.

“Not to, but for a party. A specific party, a graduation party.”

Alfaro opened his arms, revealing wide pools of sweat that stained his pits. “We have a graduation party going on right here. Come, let me show you around.” He reached for her hand but she pulled away. “Don’t like to be touched?”

“I don’t know you well enough.”

I didn’t, Dante thought, yet he touched every inch of her body.

“We can arrange to fix that, come with me, Harley,” Christopher Alfaro attempted once more to reach for her.

The cocking of a rifle inspired her to have a change of heart. Dante noticed the passenger’s door depress downwards but Harley hipped it closed. The tinted windows blocked his view. Hannah? Didn’t Hannah leave?

“C’mon, let’s go have a talk. I am interested in why your friends in the other car tried shooting at me.”

“Like I said,” Harley moved slowly with Christopher Alfaro’s hand clamped around her wrist, “I was looking for a graduation party.”

They approached the door to the restaurant Christopher Alfaro emerged from. “I did not get to have men this protective over me by believing every pretty face that came to me,” he said through a forced smile into her ear.

A woman standing next to Dante looked down at his hands when he balled them into fists. If he let Harley disappear into the restaurant, he might not see her in one piece. If he exposed himself now, he risked Leonardo being inside and fleeing. Then he noticed Harley’s left foot hesitantly move forward. Her red toes paled as they dug into the plastic of her yellow flip flop. That was it. Dante pushed through the crowd, Leonardo be damned. As he made his way, Harley’s courage stood out. She stomped Christopher Alfaro’s foot, forcing him to let go of her wrist, then double punched him in his chest sending him several steps backward. She reminded him of a video game character. Alfaro’s men made a move for Harley, grabbing her by her arms and holding her back. Christopher Alfaro recovered and moved toward her, his fingers gripped her face. Dante went red.

Guns cocked and a no-pun-intended Mexican standoff ensued. Dante’s arms spanned out like wings, guns in both hands. One end of the barrel made an indent in Christopher’s temple, the other pointed at no one in particular. Roman moved the crowd by clearing his throat.

“If I were you,” he growled, grabbing Christopher Alfaro by the scruff of his neck, “I’d let go of my wife.”

“Wife?”

Blurting it out like that hadn’t been his plan to break the news to anyone, let alone Roman or Harley’s niece, Hannah, who slammed the passenger’s door. It wasn’t like they discussed their marriage last night as to whether or not to keep it a secret. The topic of conversation did not come up in her kitchen only because they were trying to identify the men in the picture. Dante would rather spend an hour under one of the men in the picture’s guns than face the icy cold daggers Harley shot him right now.

Chapter 6

“You married this guy?” Hannah asked, her mouth gaped open incredulously.