“You were an. . .assassin?”
“That’s a nice, professional way to say it.” I walked further into the room toward the box of ammunition. “They paid well. Plus, the job came with many perks. I. . .retired five years ago. When I left them, I sold my houses, cars, and a small property—a pool hall in the Southside of Chicago.”
“You’re from Chicago?”
“Yes. Born and raised.”
“And,” she swallowed. “You killed people?”
I gave her a weak smile. “Those people that I worked for were bad, but that was probably assumed. They dealt in criminal activities, and the people that I killed for them, weren’t civilians, they were criminals too. Men that did bad things. No children. No women. No innocents. Those were always my rules.”
She hugged herself as if guarding her body.
“I left them because for the last job, they wanted me to kill a man’s family—his wife and four children.”
With a sad expression, she shook her head.
“I couldn’t do it. Because of that, they killed my wife and newborn son.”
She gasped. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”
“That’s okay. It was five years ago.”
“But still. . .” She walked over to me. “I can’t believe they did that. Are they still out there?”
“No. I took care of them.”
She widened her eyes.
“And then I left Chicago. I haven’t been back since.”
“Jesus,” she whispered. “That’s so horrible. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t tell you all of that to make you feel bad for me. I wanted you to know that I could handle my own when it came to Wyatt. And. . .”
She gazed at me. “Yes?”
“And I can teach you how to defend yourself too.” I gestured to the walls. “First, we’ll start with guns.”
“First?”
“Next, hand-to-hand combat. Simple techniques to keep the upper hand.” I leaned my head to the side. “Is this crazy or are you interested?”
She looked around the room and then she nodded. “No. It’s not crazy at all. I’m just. . .I guess I’m just blessed that you want to do it at all.”
“Regardless of if I get to Wyatt first or not, you should always be able to protect yourself, no matter if the person is a man or woman, no matter what weapon they have.” I stepped closer to her, but didn’t raise my hands to touch her, even though I wanted to. “It would make me feel good, if you could protect your kids and you. I would sleep better at night.”
“Yoshiro, I don’t know what to say. You’re helping me out more than anyone I’ve ever known. My family. My friends. Some have turned me away in fear of dealing with Wyatt. Others think the abuse is no big deal. Many feel like they have their own problems and can’t bother with mine. . .” Her eyes watered. “And you’re a stranger. I just met you.” Her voice cracked. “W-why do you care?”
I didn’t want her to cry. If she did, I wouldn’t know what to do. It would hurt me too. And I didn’t have an answer for her question. This need had just come over me, once I saw those bruises on her daughter and her. I couldn’t deal with it. I could barely sleep, knowing there was some maniac out there beating a beautiful mother and her child.
Those tears left her eyes. She wiped them fast, but they still affected me. Twisted my heart. Made it ache. It had been a long time since that affect had come over me.
I wanted to open my arms and hold her, but I knew she probably wouldn’t let me. Once a man hit and beat on a woman so much, it took a long time for her to let another one come near her.
And so I whispered to her and kept my hands to myself. “Don’t cry, Ebony. He doesn’t deserve your tears, and neither the other people that didn’t have your back.”
She bobbed her head and wiped her eyes some more. “You’re right.”
“And. . .” I unfisted my hands, opening and closing them, wishing I could touch and soothe her. “I’m not a stranger anymore. . .please consider me your friend.”
She looked into my eyes. “Okay.”
“I have your back. Regardless of who doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that we’ve just met. Great friendships have been made off of even less time.”
She smiled. “And I have your back, in anyway.”
Shock hit my heart. I hadn’t even considered her helping me. Wasn’t I just fine? Did I even need anything? Sure, my life had become monotonous. Repetitive. Some would even say dull. But. . .
I admitted out loud, “Maybe, you will help me.”
“How? Name anything.”
“You’ll bring some fun to my life.”
She wiped at her eyes again. “With all these guns in this room, I’m shocked you don’t have enough excitement.”
“It’s just been the dogs and me for five years, nothing more. I’ve got one friend. We hang out from time to time, but not much else.”