Plain Jane and the Mafia Beast

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Daniel asked.

“Make it the day after.”

“Vince?”

“Don’t. I don’t need to hear anything. I’m perfectly capable of doing what I need to do, thank you very much.” He took the bag and jacket, then saw Daniel out. He held her jacket up to the light, and he saw the hole from the bullet. That would have to go.

Walking into the kitchen, he put the jacket on the counter. He’d burn it in due course. Opening her bag, he started to pull out books and her purse. Opening it up, he saw she had a couple of dollars and a few bits of change. Checking her ID, he saw her name was Arika Jane, just like on her name tag. It was a rather strange name, but he then pulled out his cell phone and dialed his private contact. Within half an hour, he had everything there was to know about the woman currently sleeping in his bed.

Her name, Arika Jane. The fact she was in the foster care system. No one knew her parents’ identity so that made sense with the last name being Jane. She was in all senses a “Jane Doe,” but they named her Arika. No family to speak of. She was twenty-one years of age, enrolled in college, taking classes in between working at the diner. She rented a small apartment that wasn’t worth the money.

In all senses, she was a nothing and a nobody, until tonight.

Turning off his cell phone, he walked back upstairs and took a seat, looking at her.

For a plain woman, she really struck him hard. There was no way he could turn his back on her, especially not now.

She’d been an innocent, crossing the road, making her way home when Daniel’s carelessness had hurt her.

This was all new for him. He didn’t care for anyone.

What was it about this sweet little dove that he couldn’t seem to shake?

****

Pain was everywhere.

Arika opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling. Her side burned, and everything seemed a little fuzzy. Letting out a groan, she tried to roll over, but again, the pain was too intense.

Placing a hand on her stomach, she let out a scream as someone touched her hand.

“It’s okay. You’re fine. You’ve just got to take it easy.”

She hadn’t even realized that a light had come on and now she was staring at a man. The one from the diner. The one that kept looking at her.

“What’s going on?”

He took her hand and pressed on her shoulders so she had no choice but to lie down.

“You don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” she asked.

Like being struck, she remembered crossing the road, and the pain of being shot.

“You shot me.”

“I didn’t shoot you.”

“I was shot.”

“You were shot.”

She glanced down at her body and saw she was only in her underwear.

“Where are my clothes?” she asked.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable without anything irritating your wound.”

She took a deep breath. “I’m not at my apartment.”

“No. You’re in my bed.”

“In your house?”

“Yes. You’d have to be in my house to be in my bed.”

He sounded way too amused, and right now, she wasn’t in the slightest bit.

“I got shot.”

“You don’t need to worry about that.”

“I have to tell the police. Someone needs to know that there’s a madman running around with a gun!”

“You don’t need to tell anyone anything.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t afford to be shot.”

“You don’t have to pay for anything. I had a friend take care of everything.”

“Do I have all my organs?” she asked. Other than the pain from being shot, everything felt all right. She’d read an article in the paper a few weeks ago about organs being sold on the black market or something like that.

This couldn’t be happening to her.

“You have all your organs,” he said. “That’s a rather strange question.”

“Between getting shot and waking up naked here, I have a bit of a blank, and I’m trying to figure out what to do about that.”

“You don’t need to do anything about that.”

“I’ve been shot.”

“You keep saying that, but it’s not really a big deal.”

“Okay, I can’t think right now.” She pressed her hands to her face. “What do I do?”

“There’s not a lot you can do. You’ll stay here. Doctor’s orders, you have to rest.”

“I can’t afford to rest. I have to go to work. I’ve got classes. My English assignment. I can’t just sit around and be … sick or in pain.”

“You are in pain though. We seem to be going in circles over this matter. Getting stressed out is not good for you. You need to relax.”

“I can’t. I need the money.” She winced at how greedy she sounded. “They’ll find a replacement.”

“If I promise that I can guarantee your job, will you please relax and take it easy?”