Page 49 of Mob Knight

I put my right hand in my pocket, which draws my suit coat back. It’s a move we all refined by the time we were twenty. It nonchalantly shows our gun holstered at our hip. If we’re wearing shoulder holsters, then we place our hands on our hips. If we’re wearing a lower back holster, we aren’t looking to advertise we have a weapon.

“I know you made your bank run this morning, so I’ll take what’s mine and be on my merry way.”

“I—”

The door chimes.

Fuck my life.

Joey—fuck it; I’ll never think of her as Jocelyn—spins on her heels. I can’t chase after her without drawing attention to her. I want to, but I can’t. I need to finish here. I put my other hand in my pocket to show Eduardo the matching handgun. I’m certain he knows I have a pocketknife.

“Fine. Fine.”

He relents, and pops open the cash register. Anger fills his gaze as he pulls out all the cash and hands it over.

“Be sure to run to the bank at lunch. Pablo’ll be back to collect their first installment this afternoon.”

“What? I can’t afford that.”

Eduardo splutters, and his face flushes a deep red. His hand darts under the counter.

“You know what a bad idea that would be. Do you really want to leave your wife a widow and your kids without a father?”

“At least they’d have the life insurance.”

I snort. “And that’ll provide for what? The funeral? You know you’re better off letting me walk out of here, then doing whatever the Diazes want. If you kill me, my family will blame the Diazes. Then they’ll blame you. Is that the sort of visit you want from Pablo?”

The man has no soul. None. It seeped out of him sometime during our mid-twenties. His cousins’ll rough people up, but Pablo’s the one who puts them to the screws—literally.

“I didn’t think so.Vaya con dios, Eduardo.” Go with God.

I tuck the money into my inside coat pocket and saunter out. The moment my head is outside, I scan the area for Joey. I spot her immediately. She’s talking to three Cartel guys. She’s shaking her head and takes a step back. When one of them leans too far forward, I’m done.

By the time I step behind Joey, the guy’s voice rises as he confronts Joey in Spanish. I’m a fluent Spanish speaker, as are most of the guys in my family. We’re all multi-lingual. It’snecessary for business, and speaking Spanish in New York City is hardly shocking. My Yiddish ain’t bad either.

“Does Enrique know you stand on street corners yelling at women, youpinche pendejo?” Fucking idiot.

Joey’s back straightens, but she does nothing else.

“Back off, O’Rourke. You know better than to come back to this neighborhood.”

“What I know rarely stops me from doing what I want. Ms. Bracero, I’m sure you have an appointment you’re late for. We’d hate to keep you or the family waiting.”

“We’re not done talking to?—”

“You must be confused, Andres.”

I step around Joey and put myself between her and the men rather than beside her. When I slide my left hand into my pocket, they know I just wrapped my palm around my knife. Considering the scar the man has from a confrontation just like this where he thought a little too highly of himself, he won’t want a repeat.

“The bit?—”

“Finish that word, and I’ll dump you on Enrique’s doorstep myself.”

Despite shite that’s gone down among the Four Families in the past few years that’s involved women, we’re still all old school about how we speak about women. It’s not like none of us makes crass comments about sex, but we don’t speak that way in front of women and children. Enrique will peel the skin from this guy’s bones before handing him over to Pablo if he insults Joey by calling her a bitch.

“You’re not doing her any favors by coming to her rescue. We were just asking her about you.”

“Now you can ask me about me. Ms. Bracero, I’m certain you’re late now. Have a good day.”

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