Protected By the Monster

“You okay?” I asked Alex.

“Almost fucking killed me,” he said. “They were waiting.”

I moved his hand, checked the wound. Gunshot to the shoulder, not life-threatening, but he’d need work. “Go find Steven,” I said. “He’ll get you out.”

“Fuck,” Alex said. “Getting shot hurts like hell.”

I grinned at him, hit his shoulder. “Just be happy you’re alive to feel it.”

He grunted and staggered into the hall then back down the steps.

“You good, Santo?” I asked.

He gave me a thumbs-up.

I turned away, went to the next room. It was empty except for a mattress on a simple metal platform and a desk shoved against a far wall covered in soda cans with a closed laptop. I found a duffel bag in the closet with some knock-off designer clothes, grabbed the laptop, shoved it in the bag, just in case. I checked under the mattress on a whim, found a bag of weed, a rolled wad of hundreds, and a file folder.

I grunted in surprise as I took the green file folder out from under the bed. I put the weed and the money in the bag then opened the folder up, staring at the contents.

A picture of a woman stared back at me, in her fifties, smiling a little bit. She had dark hair, tan skin, dark eyes, looked about as Italian as it got.

Something bugged me about her, but I couldn’t decide what. I shoved the file in the bag, got up, checked the next room. I found more cash, more drugs, but nothing important, no laptops or phones.

“Fucking useless,” I said, coming back out. Santo stood by the stairs. “These guys were low-level nothings.”

“We should go,” he said. “Might be more coming back soon.”

“Fine,” I said and took the stairs with Santo at my back. Steven and Alex were already gone, and so I strode back out into the night with the bag on my shoulder. Santo turned and walked in the opposite direction, his gun tucked back into his waistband, whistling like nothing had happened.

I sighed, put my gun away, headed back to the car.

Clair didn’t speak when I got behind the wheel. I threw the duffel on the floor at her feet and she stared at it like it was full of live, writhing snakes.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Treasure,” I said.

She unzipped the bag. “Drugs… money… and a laptop?”

“And a file,” I said.

I started the car and pulled out. I noticed more lights on in the houses surrounding us, but ignored them as I drove at a normal clip. I went through the next stop sign, turned left at the stop sign after that, and headed back toward Broad Street.

Clair took the file out and stared at it. She opened it up and I caught the look on her face as her eyes scanned the picture tucked in the front.

Her eyes were filled with horror.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Luca,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “This woman… this is a picture of my mom.”

I nearly hit the brakes. I looked at her, unable to hide my shock.

“You’re serious?”

She nodded, paged through the file. “This is all about her,” she said. “Where she lives… what she looks like… oh my god, I think someone’s been following her. There are notes about where she goes. They know where she gets her hair cut.”

“Fuck,” I said. “Fucking shit. We need to go talk to Don Leone, right now.”

“Luca, is my mom in danger?”

“Yeah,” I said, hitting the gas and speeding up. “Yeah, she is. But we’re going to help her.”

I drove faster as Clair sat in stunned silence, staring down at the folder in her lap.14ClairLuca drove in silence, turning the car to head east then cut up north along I-95.

He was taking the long way and it drove me insane, but I restrained myself. I wanted to criticize him but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. He was taking the long way to avoid police, considering he’d just killed a house full of men.

I hated the idea that I was sitting in a car with a murderer. I knew he was a killer, I saw it happen right before my eyes. But for some reason, that was different. It was the spur of the moment, and he did it to keep me from falling into Jalisco hands.

That house back there, he didn’t absolutely need to kill them.

Then again, I couldn’t help thinking about the folder in my hands. If he hadn’t broken in there and did what he did, then we never would’ve gotten this folder about my mother, and I doubt we ever would’ve realized they were going to target her until it was too late. If he’d held back like I wanted him to, my mother might have ended up dead.

Hell, we might already be too late. She might already be in their grasp.