Protected By the Monster

“You think the Jalisco are coming here?” I asked, tensing a bit as I walked with them to the door.

He paused on the threshold and shook his head. “No,” he said. “This is the best safe house in the city, my personal safe house. Nobody knows about this, nobody but us. Not even her mother knows the location of this place. But the Jalisco will look for her, and I need you to be prepared. Can you do this for me, Luca?”

“I’ll take care of her, sir,” I said.

“Good.” Don Leone nodded once. “Poor girl doesn’t understand what that asshole just threw her into. And I’m not entirely sure she really knows how much money he left her.”

“How much was it, sir?” I asked, unable to help myself, and regretted it right away. Roberto gave me a look that could melt steel, but Don Leone only laughed softly.

“Millions,” he said, then turned and left the house.

Roberto gave me a lingering, withering look, then shut the door behind them, leaving me alone in the living room.

I stared after them and ran a hand through my hair.

I had none of my stuff, no clothes or toiletries. I was going to have to buy everything I needed, and on top of that, buy everything this girl wanted. I was a glorified fucking babysitter, and all that talk about me being a killer was just a bunch of bullshit.

He didn’t care how many Jalisco I killed for him, he only cared that I was loyal and I would watch over his rich little niece.

I turned back from the door and Clair stood near the kitchen, watching me with narrowed eyes.

I stared back at her, head tilted. I let my eyes roam her body, not trying to hide it as I looked at her breasts, at her hips, then back up to her lips. She looked disgusted, her mouth hanging open, her nose wrinkled like it smelled.

“I’m not taking orders from you,” she said.

“You’d have more fun if you did.”

“I’m not joking. I don’t care if you’re some big, bad mafia guy. Deep down, you’re all just a bunch of bullies and assholes.”

“You’re not wrong,” I said. “But you’d still have more fun if you obeyed my every command.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not interested in talking,” she said. “I’m not interested in staying, either. I’m getting out of here as soon as I can.”

“Fine,” I said. “But I can’t let you leave until the Don says it’s okay. You know that, right?”

“Whatever you say.” She crossed her arms again.

“Good. You do what you want, I’ll do what I want, and we stay out of each other’s way. We’ll get through this shitty assignment together.”

“Fine. Works for me.”

“Just don’t try to run. Seriously, I’m not going to let you go, no matter what. I’ll drag you back, kicking and screaming, and tie you up in the bathtub if I have to.”

“In the bathtub?” she asked. “That’s creepy and specific.”

I shrugged and tilted my head. “Personal experience.”

She opened her mouth and shut it again. She let out a little snort, shook her head, and stomped to the staircase. She brushed past me, and for a moment I caught her smell, grass and honey.

I watched her stomp upstairs and disappear into one of the bedrooms.

I let out a little sigh and walked over to the couch. I dropped down, kicked my feet up, found the remote shoved in between the cushions, and unmuted golf.

It was going to be a boring, frustrating few days, and that girl was going to make my life miserable. But at least there was a decent cable package.

And, hell, at least she wasn’t bad to look at.2ClairI slammed the unfamiliar door and turned the lock on the knob.

For a long time, I just stood there, staring at the floor. It was hardwood, gnarled with small knots, polished to a shine. It looked new, just like the rest of the house, like it had been gutted and refinished at some point in the last few years.

That was hard to believe, since it was apparently some super-secret mafia safe house.

I let myself look up, scanned the room. An old queen bed was pressed against the far wall with a simple nightstand on either side. There was a clock on the right, glowing a red LED, and a lamp on the left. The bedspread was floral, looked musty, and two pillows in off-white cases sat against the black metal frame. There was a bathroom through the door to the right, a small closet, and a bureau with a vase of fake flowers and a few small matryoshka dolls carved in shiny wood and painted a bright red.

A heavy cross hung between the windows.

I walked into the bathroom, my hands shaking. There was a tub and a shower on the left, small toilet on the right, a cheap-looking plywood cabinet and a sink straight ahead. I stared into the unadorned mirror that hung above it, stared at my face, and tried to understand what was staring back at me.