Page 39 of Bidding War

“He’s that fast?”

“Lives near here. I expect him soon.”

Something else makes her go stiff again. “Am I … I know you wouldn’t put me in harm’s way, but should I be afraid of this guy?”

“I would never let him touch you, June. And he’s only violent when he’s told to be.”

“Sounds like a charmer.”

I laugh. “You might be the first person to describe him that way.”

Just then, Moss barges in with a black duffel bag in hand. Dressed in head-to-toe black, as well, complete with a black skullcap. Good for the weather and for witnesses at a distance who will think he has black hair instead of being bald. One of his many tricks for getting away with illegal activities.

He sees June, noting her petrified expression, her mussed clothing, and her throat bruise. He sees me, looking disheveled. Then he sees Green Sweater. His lip curls in a sneer. “The haddock was an asshole, uh?”

“You can say that again.”

He nods once, then kneels and opens his duffel bag. He passes gloves and a spray canister to June. “Miss, if you would, please spray every surface in this room with that. A light mist will do the trick.”

She blinks and takes the items, putting on the gloves. It’s like she’s on auto-pilot—she does exactly what he says with no questions asked.

“You get to help me.” He unrolls a carpet from the duffel bag. I have no clue how he fit it in there. Then he lays plastic sheeting onto it. We make a Green Sweater burrito, and I try to ignore the crunch of bone when Moss kicks the bundle to ensure it’s snug. Or just to get his own knock on the guy. I’m not sure. Then he hoists the bundled roll onto his shoulder and carries it out to his van.

He returns a moment later—or maybe it only seems like it’s just a moment. My brain is getting foggy with post-fight letdown. When he returns, he has a cart with potted plants in vases, wooden stands, cleaning equipment, and bottles of water. He passes me rags with some sort of chemical on them. “Wipe any blood or sweat anywhere you touch. Make it clean.”

“What are you going to do?”

He grins. “What I do.” He holds up a potted plant in a vase and a wooden stand, and I could not possibly be more confused. But I follow orders because he’s saving my life. Still, I steal glances while he works. I might need to know how to do this on my own one day.

Moss wipes down the blood where Green Sweater knocked into the wall and busted the plaster. Once it’s no longer red, he sets the wooden stand on the ground where Green Sweater died. He places the potted plant on top of it. With a gentle push, he knocks it into the wall in a rough approximation of where his head went into it. The sound alerts June, but when she sees what he's up to, she resumes spraying. Potting soil is everywhere, thanks to the shattered vase. It covers anything we might have missed spraying. When maintenance hears of the broken potted plant, they’ll clean it up, and no one will think twice about the broken wall.

After setting that up, he sets out a few more potted plants on stands to make it appear as though the building manager had tried to class the place up. It also makes the sight of a solitary broken vase not that out of the ordinary. Genius.

“Pity there is no camera here,” he grunts.

“A pity?” I ask, shocked.

“If there were, I might have told you to call the police. Cameras are the best witnesses when you do nothing wrong. You are a good man, Anderson. I know you did nothing wrong.”

If only a jury of my peers would believe that. If only that mattered to the evening news. I huff. “Well, we work with what we’ve got, right?”

He smiles and nods. When his eyes fall on June across the hall, he quietly asks, “How bad did it get?”

“Bad. But not that far.”

To my surprise, he crosses himself like a grateful Catholic. “She is fortunate you watch over her. Especially in a building with no security.” Unfortunately, he has a point.

Once I get my life back, I’m moving her to a better building. Mine, if at all possible.

Moss interrupts my hopeful thoughts. “I will need your assistance with the haddock. It is a two-man job. He is a large catch.”

I nod once and turn to June. I do not want to leave her right now. It feels like the wrong thing to do. She’s been through so much. She shouldn’t be alone right now. Hell, I shouldn’t be alone right now. But I suppose Moss is a kind of company … but June. She looks so lost. Her eyes are wide, and I know she’s sprayed that mailbox half a dozen times. She’s dazed, maybe in shock.

“Give me a minute.”

He nods once. “But we will have to go soon. You’re sure there were no witnesses besides the two of you?”

“If so, they would have called the cops by now. It’s the weekend. People are out or asleep this late.”

---