Page 25 of The Killer Cupcake
Carmine gave him a sly nod and moved away. Carmelo looked over to Caesar to see if he heard the message within the message.
“Am I in trouble here? You and Matteo have prepped me, but he’s a giant. He’s a killer.” Carmelo said, his bravado now wavering.
Caesar gave him the best smile he could. “You need to be careful and always alert in the ring. Not cocky. It’s not bravery that makes you a winner, Melo. It’s your heart. It’s made of something tough.”
Carmelo smiled. “That’s Caesar.”
“No problem. I have my orders. Before they can get to you, they have to go through me,” said Caesar.
Jazz bled through the walls,a frantic counterpoint to the sudden silence between Kathy and the man leaning against the peeling wallpaper. He was a slab of muscle in a cheap suit, fedora pulled low, shadowing eyes that tracked her like a predator sizing prey.
"Excuse me,"Kathy said, her voice steady despite the ice sliding down her spine. She moved forward, aiming for the faint outline of a door at the hall’s end—the promised exit to the courtyard bathrooms.
He didn’t move aside. Instead, he unfolded himself from the wall, planting his bulk squarely in her path. The dim light caught the sneer twisting his lips.
"You lost, sugar?" The drawl was thick, laced with a malice that had nothing to do with directions.
"No." Kathy kept her chin level, meeting his gaze. Harlem had taught her that much. "Just need to pass." She took another step.
He moved faster than his size suggested. One moment blocking the way, the next lunging. Shock froze Kathy for a critical heartbeat. Then instinct screamed:RUN!
She whirled, dress whipping around her legs. A choked cry escaped her lips. Too slow. An arm like an iron bar lockedaround her waist, yanking her off her feet. A sweaty, calloused palm clamped over her mouth, crushing her lips against her teeth, the taste of stale tobacco and grime flooding her senses. She kicked wildly, heels scraping his shins, connecting with nothing solid. Her hands flew up, nails raking desperately for his eyes, clawing at the shadowed flesh beneath the fedora’s brim. She felt skin tear, heard a guttural curse spat in a language she didn’t know – Italian? Sicilian dialect? – sharp and vicious. He grunted, tightening his grip, hauling her backwards towards that ominous door. Panic, cold and absolute, seized her.Outside. If he gets me outside…Images flashed – dark alley, rough brick, silence swallowing her screams. She redoubled her efforts, bucking, twisting, a wild animal caught in a snare. But he was stronger, fueled by a cruel purpose, his breath hot and rank on her neck, his tongue flicking at her skin as he chuckled at her terror. He was winning. The door handle loomed, inches from his reaching hand.
Carmelo.
He’d seen her slip away, seen the unease on her face, and heard the stifled sound that wasn’t just the saxophone’s wail. What he saw now was a tableau ripped from his deepest nightmares: Kathy, small and fierce, engulfed by a brute, being dragged towards darkness. The fragile control Carmelo had worn like armor in the Marcello meetingshattered.
He charged them like a bull. A force of nature unleashed. No shout, no warning, it was just a blur of motion. He didn'tattackthe man; heerasedthe space between them.
One fist, driven with the piston force of a boxer’s knockout blow, slammed into the side of the attacker’s head. The sickeningcrunchof bone meeting bone was audible even over the distant band. The man’s grip on Kathy vanished instantly. She dropped, stumbling, gasping, crawling backwards on her hands as her assailant reeled, stunned.
Carmelo didn’t pause. Rage, cold and incinerating, consumed him. His fists became pistons, hammering into the man’s face, throat, chest – a brutal, rhythmic tattoo of violence. Left hook to the jaw, snapping his head back. A right cross splits his lip wide open. Uppercut driving into the solar plexus, forcing a wheezing gasp.
The man crumpled against the wall, sliding down, trying feebly to raise his arms. Carmelo followed him down, kneeling, driving his knuckles into the already ruined face–thud, thud, thud. The blood sprayed in dark arcs onto the grimy wallpaper, onto Carmelo’s white shirt, onto Kathy’s shoes. The man’s pleas were gurgling, incoherent bubbles in the mess of his mouth. The relentless jazz from the main room drowned out the sounds of breaking bones, a grotesque soundtrack.
Kathy stood frozen, not in horror at the violence itself. She’d seen her father gunned down in the bakery, witnessed the casual cruelties of the South. It was Carmelo and the violence from him that stopped her heart. This wasn't the charming boy who promised life could be sweeter. This was a primal fury brought to life. A terrifying avatar of retribution wearing Carmelo’s face. The sheer, focused brutality of it stole her breath.
As the man lay groaning, a broken, bloody heap who spat crimson onto the floorboards, Carmelo surged to his feet. His chest heaved, his knuckles raw and slick in blood. His eyes, when they found Kathy, weren’t human.
He didn’t comfort her. Hegrabbedher upper arm, fingers digging in, and shoved her roughly towards the moaning figure on the floor.
"Kick him!" The command was a guttural snarl, ripped from a place beyond reason.
Kathy flinched, stumbling. "What?!" Disbelief warred with the adrenaline screaming through her veins.
"KICK HIM!" Carmelo roared, the sound raw and terrifying in the confined space. He pointed a bloody finger at the man. "NOW!"
Kathy’s gaze snapped down to the attacker. The fedora was gone, revealing a face pulped and swelling. One eye was already sealed shut with blood and swelling flesh. But it was theintentshe saw beneath the damage, the predatory malice that had been in his eyes moments before. The reality slammed into her:He was going to rape me. He would have done worse. He’s done it before to girls like me.
A coldness, different from fear, settled in her gut. A resolve forged in terror and fury.
She lifted her foot. Not a tentative nudge, but a deliberate, powerful stomp, driving the heel of her shoe straight into the man’s ribs.
A wet, cracking sound. A strangled scream that was more a desperate wheeze.
"AGAIN!" Carmelo’s voice was iron.
Kathy kicked. Harder. Aiming for the same spot. She felt something give beneath the point of her shoe. Another agonized gasp. Then, with a surge of pure, furious energy, she drew her leg back and kicked him square in the face. Her heel connected with his nose with a sickeningcrunch. His head snapped back, hitting the floor with a dull thud. He convulsed once, then lay still except for shallow, ragged breaths.
