Page 1 of Mob Knight

Chapter One

Joey

“Just let me know if you need anything, Mrs. Ramirez. You know I’m here to support you and Armando. All you have to do is call me.”

“Thank you, Ms. Bracero.”

“You’ve done so much for your grandson, but I know there’s more you want to do. If he needs another trip to the doctor, let me know, and I will come with you.”

I look at the older woman as we converse in Spanish, and my heart breaks for her as I think about her six-year-old grandson. He’s the most adorable kid in the world. As a social worker, I see the best and worst. Armando’s one of the lucky ones.

I spin around at a pop-pop-pop noise.

I know what it is. I’m halfway down the steps leading to the Ramirezes’ apartment building. The little boy’s still tucked away in bed in his grandmother’s apartment. Mrs. Ramirez calls out to me as my gaze sweeps the surrounding area. I immediately spot the men standing outside the bodega across the street. I look to my right and spot a man with a shock of strawberry blond hair and freckles standing just beside the entrance to the pawn shopnext door. I get what’s happening in an instant, and I know the men across the street won’t stop until they’ve hit their target.

“Go inside, Mrs. Ramirez.Now!”

I bolt down the last couple of steps and move to my right, shoving the man as hard as I can. He staggers backwards, even though he must be nearly twice my size. His hand shoots out to grab my shirt as he looks toward me. Shock registers on his face as he realizes I’m not attacking him. He tries to regain his balance as his arm windmills, but it’s holding his gun. I watch in slow motion as he points toward the sky to keep it away from me.

Then we’re falling.

He’s doing his best to shield me as we tumble down the stairs toward a basement apartment. But we go head over toes, rolling side to side. His arm is around me, and he’s gripping me, still trying to curve his body around mine to take most of the impact. When we reach the bottom of the stairs, I already hurt everywhere. Now that we’ve come to a stop, my shoulder screams at me since that’s what I landed most of my weight on when I hit the first step.

“Are you okay?” There’s no sympathy in his voice with that demand.

He looks me over, and I can practically read his thoughts. He wants to make sure I’m fine, so he can get up, walk away, and go back to the shootout that’s about to take place if he shows his face again.

“I am, but you won’t be. Stay down. Don’t move.” I scramble to get back onto my feet, but he grabs hold of my shirt, this time from the back, and yanks me toward him.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m going to make sure you don’t get shot. You or anybody else on this street.”

“You are not getting in the middle of this. You are going to stay right where you are.”

“I don’t know who you are, but I know who those men are, and I know what they’re capable of.”

There’s an aura of menace that surrounds him, and I should be terrified, but he doesn’t seem to direct that toward me. Irritation perhaps, but I’m not scared of him. However, I am scared of the men across the street. The glower he shoots me as he speaks tells he doesn’t believe I can do anything for him.

“I don’t care if you don’t know who I am. I know who those men are too, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting you stick your head out where it can become their next target.”

“The difference between you and me, though, is that I’m not the one they obviously wish to kill.”

“But you are the one who’ll get killed if you keep arguing with me and go up there. The moment they see movement they’ll shoot. They won’t wait to see who it is.”

I point to his red hair, then mine. “There’s no way they can confuse the two of us.”

“It doesn’t matter about confusing my red hair for your brown hair. It’s about a single bit of movement. They won’t wait. I’ve said that twice. Don’t make me say it a third time.”

I don’t bother waiting as he suggests—commands—me to stop. Instead, I push against his chest and scramble again for the stairs.

“Ronaldo, Jesus, stop. It’s me, Jocelyn.”

I call out to the men across the street. I know I have a voice that projects. There’s no way they don’t hear me. I raise my hands slowly and put them above my head where I know they can see them without seeing the rest of me.

“I’m coming up the steps alone. Don’t shoot.”

“Señorita, you helped him. Why should we leave you alone?”

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