Protected By the Monster

My leg jostled up and down. I could barely contain my impatience, my anger, my fear.

“We’ll be there soon,” he said, his voice soft. “I don’t think they went for her yet.”

“How can you know that?”

“The file looks new,” he said. “I think they were still following her and trying to figure out how they’d use her against us.”

“God, Luca. This is insane. Why would they want to hurt my mother?”

“To get at you,” he said. “You really don’t get it yet, do you? These guys, they’ll do absolutely anything to get what they want, including hurt every single person you ever loved, including all your friends, all your relatives, your mother, your best friend from college, your fucking pet dog. These are the kind of men that would cut off your head and mount it on a pike out in front of their house if it meant getting some kind of edge over their enemies.”

“And they were watching her.” The realization sent a chill down my spine. “They were so close to her. They could’ve… they could’ve hurt her at any time.”

“Pretty much,” he said. “But they didn’t.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“They didn’t,” he said again. “They wouldn’t just kill her. She’s not useful dead. And they’d tell us as soon as they took her.”

“Right,” I said. “You know this stuff, don’t you?”

He gave me a sharp look. “This shit again?”

“No, I didn’t mean—”

“Without me, you’d be dead right now,” he said. “Dead or worse. Without me, your mother might be in their hands, getting tortured or cut to pieces. Without me, all this shit falls apart, and yet you want to sit there on your moral high horse and talk about how I’m a monster and a killer. Wake up, Clair. It’s time to realize that you need this monster, whether you want him or not.”

I stared at Luca, not speaking, my mouth hanging open.

Then I burst into tears.

God, I felt so stupid. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed hard, letting all my anger and frustration out. I couldn’t help myself and I was so freaking mortified, but the tears just kept coming.

His voice was soft when he spoke next, a couple minutes later, just as my sobs began to calm down.

“I know this is a lot,” he said. “I get it, you’re having a hard time dealing. I can’t really blame you for that. But I’m not the enemy here.”

“I know you’re not,” I said, leaning my head back, tears still coming down. I felt like a stupid mess and I wiped my nose on my sleeve, not caring how gross and pathetic he thought I was.

“Then quit acting like it,” he said. “We both know you don’t really hate me. I felt what you really think out on the back porch.”

I looked at him and smiled despite myself. “Yeah? You think that’s what I really feel?”

“I do,” he said, his face serious. “And you keep trying to tell yourself you’re this moral, upright good girl or some shit, but we both know you’re just as filthy and as fucked up as the rest of us.”

“Maybe you’re right,” I said. “I’ve just gone my whole life with my mom telling me how the mafia is evil, how you’re all just a bunch of selfish assholes and thieves and lowlifes. It’s really hard to turn all that off, you know?”

“I get it,” he said. “But you’re going to have to try. Because you need me now, little Clair. You need me to keep you safe, and you need something else, too.”

I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, what he thought I needed, but I stopped myself.

I knew what he meant. I didn’t need to say the words.

We drove in silence the rest of the way out to my mother’s house in the Somerton neighborhood. It was situated in the far northeast corner of the city limits, just inside of Philadelphia County, but no longer urban. The houses were all detached, though of an older style, probably built in the thirties and forties and fifties. Somerton was a decent place, not an upscale suburb by any means, but better than most.

My mother lived in a small house off Rennard Street. She had a little Cape Cod with a brick facade and white vinyl siding. Five years ago, she put in a small porch out front and got it totally refinished. It was the nicest little porch in the neighborhood, but still tiny. A single car driveway sat on the right-hand side with my mother’s silver Camry parked in her normal space.

Luca pulled over in front of the house. It was late and everything was dark. There weren’t many streetlights, but I knew this place like the back of my hand. We moved out here when I was in high school, back when my mom got a new job doing paralegal stuff for a law firm. It was a stretch at the time, but it was our own little paradise, still within city limits but as far away from the city as we could afford.