Page 7 of Fight Me Daddy

Sofia stared him down, a frown tugging on her lips. "Are you going to be okay hijo?"

I nodded and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a soft squeeze. No one else needed to get mixed up in the insanity that was my life.

"Why don't you go back inside and get some rest," I suggested to her. "I know you've been on your feet all day and that's not good for your circulation. Why don't I check on you tomorrow?" I smiled. "And I can pick up that pozole. I can't wait."

She chuckled and smiled up at me, her warm brown eyes reminding me of my mother’s. "I'm happy to do it for you, Calix. Goodnight."

"Goodnight," I said with a nod before I turned and faced Gabriele and was met with his impatient face. "Let's go inside my place."

His eyes lingered on Sofia's and I cleared my throat. She walked inside and I led Gabriele next door to my home. As I trudged up the stairs, I felt his eyes boring into me, but I refused to turn around and look at him.

A shiver licked up my spine as I opened the door and stepped inside. Gabriele slid in, his eyes on me the whole time as if I was going to attack him. Maybe he thought I would. In his line of work, I doubted he could afford to be lax about watching his back. Once I closed the door and threw the lock, I turned to face him.

"Cup of coffee?" I asked on instinct.

"Sure, why not."

I nodded and moved around him. The floorboards creaked as we walked over them and I couldn't stop picturing him shoving a gun up against my spine and firing. My heart raced with every step, but I refused to just lie down and let the Bianchi's kill me. Even if I was going to die, I would fight every step of the way.

"You can sit down if you want," I said, waving a hand at the small table in the kitchen.

"I'll stand," he said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. "Do you care if I smoke?"

"Nope." I grabbed the ashtray my father always used and sat it on the table before I turned to the coffee maker and got it going. "Are you going to tell me why you're here?"

"You're always straightforward. That's what I like about you, Calix. It takes a lot of balls to talk to me the way you do."

"Not really," I said. "I don't trip all over myself for anyone. You included. That's all." I grabbed two mugs and set them on the counter. "How do you like your coffee?"

"Just cream." He walked toward me and leaned against the sink. "So, do you have the money?"

I swallowed past a huge lump in my throat. "Um, no," I said, not trying to beat around the bush. "Not all of it."

Not even half of it.

"That's too bad," he said with a sigh. "I guess that means we need to move on to other options."

My body tensed. Other options? I didn't like the way that sounded.

"Okay," I said as I poured the coffee and added cream to Gabriele's. I opened the cabinet above the stove and took out the bourbon my father kept stashed there. I had a feeling I was going to need it. "What are these other options?" I asked as I picked up my mug and took a long, deep sip, ignoring the way the hot liquid burned my tongue.

Gabriele's eyes ran up and down my body. For the second time in his presence today, I shivered. His gaze was a dark and dangerous thing. It felt as if he was opening up and examining every part of me. Every alarm bell in my head screamed 'run' but I was stuck to the spot, staring, and waiting for his next words with a knot in my chest.

"I've worked out a way for you to keep your gym." He sipped at the coffee and hummed lightly. "Good coffee."

I frowned. "What did you work out?"

"Right, that," he said as he sat the mug down and watched me closely. "I could use an assistant. Nic has other things to do and I need some muscle, someone that can handle a fight. That's where you come in."

Nope, no, no. I didn't like the way that sounded at all.

"What?"

"You know," Gabriele said, waving a hand. "You'll be my personal errand boy until your debt is paid off. Help with debts owed, make my coffee, hell shine my shoes if I tell you to." He grinned and it unnerved me. "So, what do you say?"

I stared at him as if he had two heads. Being his errand boy? There was no way it wouldn't involve some illegal and shady shit. Not to mention the way he said it. I squeezed my fists tightly trying not to let my temper get the best of me. He wants me to be his dog. That's what he's saying.

Fuck. I didn't want to tell him no, but working for Gabriele was a one-way ticket to ending up in a jail cell or dead. No one in the history of ever had joined in with the mafia and walked away with a peaceful life. And I didn't want or need that stress. MMA was working out for me, I had a real chance at a good future. A nice big house, continuous food, fame, everything someone like me who came from nothing could ever want.

---