The Untouchables (Ruthless People 2)

“Yeah.” I grinned in return. “I wanted something Irish, and she told me to fuck off, that his last name was Irish enough. She kept reading off Italian names, I kept asking if it was a name of an appetizer or entrée. We went down a line of ‘E’ names and Ethan just popped out at us. Feel free to pass it on to Mother so she can start embroidering sweaters and monogramming silverware. Hopefully that will keep her off the baby shower thing.”

“About that…” he trailed off.

“Please tell me you didn’t. Please, for the love of God, don’t tell me Mother is going forward with it.” Pushing off the car, I turned to him.

He continued to smoke, trying his best to not meet my gaze.

“Are you kidding me? I’m doing all I motherfucking can to just make it through the next couple of weeks. She’s going to think this was me.”

“Aww, the poor Boss is afraid of his big, pregnant wife?” He laughed, throwing his cigar on the ground.

“Says the man who probably tried to talk his wife out of this and failed. And I’ll let her know you called her big.” As if he could stand up to his wife either. We were both fucked, and the moment I got the chance, I was throwing him under the bus.

“Your package is here.” He nodded towards the van driving through the small creek towards us.

Peering up at the bridge, I spotted the guns waiting as the older van pulled up right in front of us. I hated dealing with human traffickers; they sickened me. The shit we did was of each person’s own free will. We didn’t hold the needle to their veins or the powder to their noses. It was all on their own accord. Traffickers were sick and they deserved everything that was coming to them, but they still knew how to get a body. And I needed this kid.

The four men pulled the small boy out of the truck. Both his hands were bound, a blindfold over his eyes. The poor kid must have stood at my hip. He fought and struggled against the men, with tears rolling down his face. They held onto the collar of his torn, filth covered shirt.

“I told you he was not to be harmed and that he was to be informed of where you were taking him,” I said.

“He alive, ain’t he? Lucky too ‘cause we got another offer for him. It’s gonna cost you another ten. Or we’ll take him and walk.”

Why people chose to test my patience was beyond me. It was like they wanted me to repeatedly prove I was willing to beat the shit out of them. My father glanced at me with a sickening grin on his face that could have only been matched by mine. I nodded and he knew what this meant.

“Let the boy go and you get the money we settled on, along with your arms,” I said.

They smiled at each other before grabbing the boy again.

“No! No! Déjame ir. Let go!” The boy cried, trying to fight.

Sighing, I pulled at the stacks in my jacket and threw it at one of their chests.

“That’s the half I owe you,” I told them before throwing another ten towards him. “And that’s the ten. Now hand over my package.”

They were all enjoying the fact that they had just stiff-armed a Callahan. They dropped the boy like a sack of potatoes onto the ground. Walking over to him, I took off the blindfold and ropes.

“Who would have thought that the legendary Callahan had a thing for exotic young boys?” one of the men said. “We can make this a continuing business venture.”

“Hold on a second,” I said before looking down. “You are safe. Estás a salvo,” I whispered to the boy on the ground. His brown eyes were wide, shaken, and nothing but a reflecting pool of fear. I enjoyed the look on adults—on men—but for children who didn’t even have all their teeth, it pissed me off.

“I’m taking you to your mother,” I said. “I promise, take a seat in my car.” He looked at my father then back at me.

“You take me to my mama?”

“I promise.”

Nodding slowly, he took my hand and walked the three feet back to my car, my father simply opened the door for him and used his body to shield the window. Our eyes met right before I took off my jacket, throwing it on the hood and allowing them to see the two guns at my back. He simply pulled out another cigar, the man was always packing.

“What the fuck is this, Callahan?” They yelled, unleashing all their guns as two of my cars boxed us in. One by one, my men came out, guns all pointed at them.

“This, my friends, is what happens when you try to cheat me. When you insult me. Each one of my men is just itching to take your heads off. I would suggest you drop your weapons.”

Their dark eyes gazed over at the nine barrels pointed at their faces before letting gravity take hold of their guns; they dropped them at their feet, holding their hands up in surrender.

Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared at the last man on the right, still holding my money in his hairy hands. Reaching out, the little man handed me all of it before heading back in line. Strolling over to my jacket, I dropped the money and started to whistle. I pulled out my knife and gun before turning back around.

“Strip,” I demanded.

“Fuck y—” Before he could finish, I threw my knife right into his nose. His body fell back as he suffocated on his own blood, desperately gasping for air, crying in pain until he couldn’t cry anymore.

The rest of them started to take their clothing off.

“I have no respect for you pigs, but I was willing to let that slide for business. Then you come to me, late, ungrateful, and disrespectful. It hurts me.” I sighed, loading six bullets into my revolver slowly. I enjoyed watching them panic while I did this. “And when I hurt, somebody else gotta feel my hurt. It’s what makes my world go ‘round.”

Smiling, I shot at the first man in the groin. He screamed so loud I’m sure he popped a vein in his neck.

“Do you feel the world spinning?” I grinned.

MELODY

I feel like an obese Jackie Kennedy.

I sighed, fixing the stupid red hat on my head right before Fedel and Monte opened the door for me.

The moment my foot crossed the line and the door shut behind me, I was in enemy territory, and I stuck out like a middle-aged man on spring break. Every badge turned towards me, some wide-eyed, others standing up straighter and fixing their ties. I felt like I was on display, but that was the point. That’s why I’d worn this polka-dot coat with the gloves and hat. I wanted every damn officer in this department to notice me as I stepped into their house.

“Can I help you, Mrs. Callahan?” A young, blonde officer asked, stepping up quickly.

“You know who I am?” I smiled.

“Everyone knows who you are, Ma’am. Your husband’s name is on just about everything ‘round here. May I help you with anything?” I didn’t like the way he referred to Liam, there was an edge at the back of his voice, but I wasn’t Mel right now. I had to be Melody Callahan, sweet wife to a fat cat Chicago millionaire. It had been a while since we had taken down the First Lady and everything had been quiet. Too fucking quiet. And with the election around the corner, I was making sure that there would be no more surprises this November; we were in the home stretch.

“Yes, Officer…”

“Officer Scooter.”

“Well Officer, I’m looking for a Ms. Morales. She was a maid in my house. I haven’t been able to reach her for some time and I’m quite worried.”