Page 14 of Petrichor

The car finally moves. “Where should I go?”

“Head north. I’ll tell you when to turn.” The lights coming from the street and restaurants increase the piercing sensation inside my head, but I can’t close my eyes. I keep the guy in my periphery. Just in case he’s been sent by one of our enemies.

Now that I think about it, the way he agreed to compensate me for my suit without fighting much over the amount was too easy. His surprised eyes when I told him the price of the suit tells me he isn’t well off.

“I was so focused on…other things, I forgot to eat. Mind if I stop at that drive-thru?”

I don’t give a fuck about him being hungry, but he’s already turned into the fast-food place. He stops the car near the big menu board and orders a burger meal before driving to the pickup window. After paying, he takes the bag and places it on his lap, passing a bottle of water to me.

“Drink. It’ll help with tomorrow’s hangover,” he says.

I set the untouched bottle in the drink holder with an irritated grunt. “No eating in my car.” The smell of cheap food is already infusing the seats.

“Alright,” he mutters. Don’t fucking know nor care why he is so compliant all of a sudden.

I open the window to let the stench out and then pull at my shirt. It still feels icky. I direct him through the streets, and we leave the Bronx for Manhattan until we reach my apartment in the upper east side.

“Leave the car here, the concierge will take care of it.” As soon as I finish, Diego comes out of the building’s front door to welcome us.

I get out of the car and have to grip the door for a moment as the sharp pain hits the left side of my head.Merda. I hate migraines. I sometimes get them when I’m particularly stressed out. The alcohol I’ve been drinking didn’t help with that. I need to lie down.

“Mr. Moretti, good evening.” Diego’s every word sounds like nails on a chalkboard. I’m grabbing the side of my head, when I feel an arm sliding around my waist. Fly’s smell of fresh rain envelops me.

“I’m only helping,” Fly whispers softly. My body remains tense but I don’t fight him when he pushes me inside the lobby.

“Do you need a doctor?” Fly asks, sounding worried.

“Migraine. Painkillers upstairs.” I force my eyes open as I enter the code to my floor on the elevator touch display.

It feels like it takes forever to get to the penthouse floor. I stumble through the landing and hear Fly grunting and groaning as he helps me reach the only door on the floor. His small body pushes into mine for a moment.

“God, you’re ginormous!” His fast breaths feel warm on my chest. His small hands start gliding inside my clothes. With my eyes closed, I grab one tightly.

“What the fuck…are you doing?” My angry growl is followed by a darting pain right between my eyebrows. I haven’t had a migraine in months. Why now?

“The apartment keys, where are they?” Fly huffs.

There’s no fucking key. I push myself away from the wall and squint at the keypad near the door. I dial the four numbers and then press my thumb on it. The door opens, and Fly drags me inside, dropping me unceremoniously on the living room sofa.

Painkillers. I start to rise from my sitting position when a hand on my shoulder keeps me still.

“Medicine?”

“On the counter, kitchen,” I reply, dropping my head on the sofa’s back pillow. Something is digging in my back. I remove the gun I took from the Enzino man with some difficulty and place it on the sofa. Then I unholster mine and do the same.

I hear water running. Footsteps. Then a tap on my lower lip. I slowly open one eye. Fly is kneeling between my legs, glass in hand. He pushes a pill between my lips and makes me drink all the water, holding my head high.

I shift and lie down, moving my forearm over my eyes. He lifts my feet up one at a time and takes off my shoes. A moment later, a cool cloth is placed on my forehead. It feels good, just like the gentle fingers carding through my hair. They disappear to start unbuttoning my shirt.

“I’ll just take the dirty clothes off,” I think I hear Fly say. He suddenly starts to talk to someone. Diego? Thanking him for something.Chuckling. I can’t hear the rest.

The migraine medicine is starting to work, the pain, like my senses, has turned dull, and darkness is about to envelop me. But I feel the hand sliding near my side, grabbing the guns.

How could I let my guard down like this?

I knew Fly was pure fucking trouble.

Chapter Two

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