Taking Care Of The Mobster

“No, I don’t,” Sarah replies. “Carlos doesn’t like people infringing on his personal space. I usually come in every three days to clean and make meals. But since the unfortunate incident, I’ve come in every day to look after him. It’s a good thing you’re here now.”

“I guess,” I say dumbly, swallowing down the million questions that pop into my head all at once. I want to ask how a nice woman like Sarah came to work for a man like Carlos Rodriguez. I want to ask how she seems so comfortable in his home.

I have a lot to ask, but instead, I excuse myself and enter my room after thanking Sarah once more.

The room is wide with a huge bed and exotic artworks placed in strategic parts of the room. The interior design is as classy as the rest of the house and surprisingly warm.

I lower myself to the bed and drop my head into my hands with a sigh. I stay like that until I feel like I can stand to face my reality. I stand slowly and begin my routine of changing into something comfortable.

I decide to check up on Carlos before giving in to my tiredness. I exit my room and head toward the door opposite mine.

I take a deep breath and slowly push open the door to Carlos’s bedroom. The room is twice as big as mine with dark polished furniture that gives off the unmistakable vibe of a bachelor’s pad.

I slowly walk toward the huge bed and take in the large man sleeping peacefully on it. Carlos Rodriguez in all of his unconscious glory. Despite laying immobile on the bed, his beauty was undeniable. If the Greek gods were chosen for their looks, Carlos would definitely be of a high rank with his dark looks and vigorous aura.

I lower myself into the chair beside his bed, strangely mesmerized by the sharp angles of his face and contradicting stillness that seems so out of place. His long lashes cast fascinating shadows on his cheeks, drawing my attention to his sexy, firm lips, slightly parted from sleep.

How can a man with so much history of violence look so tranquil?

I sigh and let my gaze skim to the bandages wrapped clumsily around his waist and around his chest. His chest...I swallow nervously, deeply fascinated by the hard muscles of his chest, almost entirely covered in dark ink.

I lean forward to get a closer look at his tattoos. Each line and curve, carefully drawn and intricately connected, seeming to be a part of a bigger story. It was fascinating and, at the same time, complicated.

I might have pieced the puzzle together, except for the bandages. They ran across his shoulder, down to his chest, and around his waist. The person who applied them had done a decent, albeit clumsy job. I needed to check his wounds and change the bandages. But I couldn’t do that unless he was awake.

I sigh and lean back in my seat. I guess I’ll just wait for him to wake up so I can get to work.

That is if he doesn’t decide to shoot me for being in his home.

CHAPTER THREE

Carlos

Gunshots echo painfully in my head.

I feel trapped in pain – a dark place that I can’t escape. I know I’m way in over my head. I’m not a coward that won’t fight back when being beaten down. But this time, it’s like being trapped within me by myself.

I know in my subconscious that these are the echoes of a nightmare. I’m being punished by my demons – both past and present.

I just need to wake up and get back to reality, a reality that isn’t much better. It’s a world where everyone thinks I’m dead. I just have to wake up and integrate myself back into life – by whatever means it takes.

Don Pablo is probably jubilant over his victory, thinking he’s got the best of me. He attacked when least expected, despite my offer of peace.

I will get my revenge. I will strike back when Don Pablo is at the summit of his triumph. I will hit him like a tornado, and he won’t even know from which direction. But first, I have to escape the shackles of my dreams. I have to survive. So, I struggle against the heaviness of my subconsciousness.

I feel myself floating across several inconsequential layers.

And finally, I open my eyes.

I groan softly at the dull ache in my skull. I blink several times, trying to adjust to the sudden brightness.

I turn my head and see her.

It seems like the world suddenly stops spinning as I take in the gorgeous angel snoring softly at my bedside. Her hair is the color of warm chocolate, a glossy brown that frames her cute round face in perfect waves. Her nose is adorable and button-like, perfectly shaped.