Page 9 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption
“You’ll love the church, Lara. Maybe you could bring your?—”
“Bitch.” A big, hulking man stalks toward us. “You were supposed to be home an hour ago.”
She doesn’t speak and I stay silent, willing myself not to screw anything up.
“Do you really think the driver wouldn’t tell me he dropped you off at this corner? Your husband’s going to be pissed.”
“Sir.” I step between them as movement, or rather a presence, catches my attention in the dark alley at my left. “It was my fault.”
He lifts his hand but suddenly Lara shows why she’s mafia born. “Bernardo, this is my friend from the bookstore. She helps at the church.”
He looks at her and then sets cruel, beady dark eyes on me.
Without a word, a black car pulls up and he opens the door. She looks at me. “Thank?—”
Bernardo backhands her and shoves her into the back seat with a violent push.
“Fucking cunt,” he says as he slams the door on her. Then he turns to sneer at me.
Something in me snaps.
“You shouldn’t treat women like that,” I say. “Coward.”
“What the fuck did you just say?”
“I called you a coward.”
He walks back to me, too close for my liking. He towers over my frame and his big belly rubs against me, sour breath making my stomach roil. “What’s your name?”
“Hazel White.”
“Watch your step, Hazel White, or I’ll make you regret it.”
I clench my teeth. I need to stop, find my center, and not put this woman’s life in danger. So I force myself to speak softly. “I’m sorry, but you pushed her and?—”
“Shut your mouth.”
For a moment I think he’s going to hurt me, but his gaze flickers up and past me. Then he steps back.
“Keep away from her or I’ll be back.”
With that, he gets in the car. The tires squeal as the driver punches the gas. I stand on the street, frozen to the spot. Like someone’s behind me, with menacing eyes fixated in my direction that sear through the icy flesh to my core.
But when I turn, there’s no one there.
I collapse on the sofa when I get home to my one-bedroom apartment. A siren rips the air apart on Avenue D, shattering the silence. I check my messages, but there’s nothing pressing. Only my uncle Anthony inviting me to dinner at his place in Prospect Park next Sunday.
I heave a deep sigh. Lara desperately wants help but she’s scared. But then again, so is every woman I help.
Aaron is the next point of contact in the network, and he’ll pick her up in New Jersey when I drive her there.
If it comes to that.
Two days.
I let my eyes drift closed. I was living on the street for three days. Hiding from everyone who looked like the monster I escaped, and to ten-year-old me, that was every man with an Irish accent, dark hair,and blue eyes.
God, there were so many of them. I was too scared to even steal food.
