Protected By the Monster

I was a babysitter, no getting around it. Don Leone stuck me with Clair, made it seem like this was some big and important job, but now I realize he just gave the girl to whatever lieutenant was dumb enough to take her on. I should’ve turned him down, but when the Don tells a soldier to do something, that soldier better shut up and do it.

Three weeks ago, I was shaking down Jalisco strongholds and killing anyone that stood up and got in our way.

Now, I’m making sure some rich, spoiled girl didn’t… what, cry herself to death?

“Shit,” I said out loud and took out my phone. It was just a little past seven but I knew Steven would be up and at the bakery, so I called him up.

He answered after a couple rings.

“How’s my favorite soldier?” he said.

“What’s up, boss?” I walked over to the coffee pot, poured a mug. “How’s business?”

“Not too bad,” he said. “How’s your special assignment?”

“Awful,” I said. “What’d you hear about it?”

“Not much, not yet at least.”

I sipped the coffee, burned my tongue, cursed, put the mug down.

“He’s got me babysitting his niece,” I said.

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. Apparently she got left some big money and I’m supposed to watch her.”

“Wow,” Steven said, laughing like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “That’s actually kind of crazy.”

“He thinks the girl’s going to be a target,” I said. “Like the Jalisco would go after some random civilian.”

“How much money did she inherit?”

“A lot,” I said. “Millions.”

He whistled. “Sounds like the sort of score the Jalisco would go after,” he said. “I mean, they’d have to grab her, beat her up a little bit, and make her withdraw it all. Not too hard for a crew like theirs.”

“Even still,” I said. “The girl despises the mafia. I mean, fucking hates all of us, like we’re all a bunch of monsters.”

“We sort of are,” he said. “At least to people outside the family.”

“Fine, but she doesn’t have to act like it.”

“Did you just call me up to complain?”

“I called you up to see if my Capo can get me out of this job,” I said. “Send someone else out here.”

“The Don picked you,” he said. “You specifically. You know I can’t go back on that.”

“Come on,” I said.

“She can’t be that bad. I mean, what’s she look like?”

“Not bad,” I said.

“Not bad?” He snorted a laugh. “Come on, what’s that even mean?”

“She’s hot, all right? But she despises me.”

“Colleen hated me at first,” he said. “Comes with the territory. You just have to show her your winning personality.”

“I’m not sure I have one. And I’m not interested in taking dating advice from you. Just get me off this assignment.”

“No can do,” he said. “And you know it. Now I got to go, Sergio’s giving me a look like he wants to kick my ass, and I think I know why. Adios, pal.”

He hung up and I cursed, tossing the phone down onto the table. I sipped the coffee again, and although it was still too hot, at least it didn’t burn my tongue.

I stood in front of the refrigerator, debating whether or not I wanted to eat leftovers for breakfast, when there was a sound outside. A car door slammed right out front, and I hurried to the window. This time I didn’t want to be surprised if someone barged in.

I saw Roberto, his shiny bald head glinting in the morning sun, as he helped Don Leone out of a big black SUV. I cursed, cleaned up the little nest I made on the couch, and stood up straight as the door opened and the Don came limping in.

His eyes swept the room then rested on me, and my whole body went tense. With just one look, I knew the Don was pissed, really fucking pissed.

“Where’s the girl?” he asked without greeting.

“Upstairs, sleeping,” I said.

“Good.” The Don limped inside.

Roberto stayed at the door, his hands clasped in front of him, a stupid smile on his face. I gave him a glare then kept my eyes on the Don as he walked to the kitchen door, peered inside, then walked back over to me.

“Do you know who visited me last night?” the Don asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“The girl’s mother.”

I cleared my throat, shifted foot to foot. “I don’t know anything about that, sir.”

“Of course not,” he said. “How would you? You’re just the one in charge of my niece.”

“She was up in her room almost all day,” I said. “I made her dinner, but otherwise—”

“Made her dinner?” the Don asked. “You’re her personal fucking chef now?”

“Sir, I just—”

“I don’t care,” he said, waving me off with a sharp turn of his wrist. “That girl’s mother is going to be a problem, and you’re going to have to do something about it.”