Page 47 of The Woman with the Target on her Back (Grassi Family)

Deep, shaking her whole body.

“You’re acting a little nuts right now,” I told her, watching her turn toward me, smile still on her face.

“Yeah, I guess. It’s all just so… cliché, isn’t it? Just pure neanderthal.Me, big scary man, smash the pretty things. Scare the little lady.Just… ridiculous. It’s all replaceable. They accomplished nothing.”

“I don’t think their intention was just to ruin the store,” I said, voice quiet.

“No, I know,” she agreed, sighing. “And I guess, if they accomplished their true goal, this would serve as a reminder to anyone else who would think to start shit with them. But, still, how juvenile, right?” she asked as she stooped down to pick up a chunk of crystal that Aurelio must have missed when he’d been trying to clean up the place.

That was the thing with groups of people who operate outside of the law. If there wasn’t a code, an expectation of acceptable behavior, then people would lean into their baser instincts.

You could judge almost any crew by their leader. And whoever this leader was, he had to be a real shit if his men were allowed to destroy businesses and try to beat, rape, and kill women. Regardless of what she may or may not have done to goad them in the past.

“And it really wasn’t about the money,” Traveler went on as she opened both the cash register, then the safe, pulling out money, and placing it into one of her reusable bags.

Aurelio stood by the door, keeping it cocked open with his foot, so he could see thanks to the boarded-up glass.

Trusting him, I followed Traveler as she moved into the back, knowing there was another entrance there, even if Aurelio had it boarded up too.

She strode confidently in for several feet before she froze, her whole body tightening. My gaze followed hers to the oven.

“Hey,” I said, moving up behind her, and placing my hand on her hip.

The touch seemed to jolt her out of her thoughts.

Then she was rushing across the kitchen, yanking open the oven door, and shoving each of the racks back in.

Finished, she exhaled a deep breath, then made her way to the walk-in, grumbling as she had to toss out the fresh fruit that had already gone bad.

“You don’t have to do all of this yourself,” I told her.

“What else do I have to do?” she asked. “Could we stop by the soup kitchen on the way to the hospital?” she asked. “All these different milks are going to go before I get a chance to open back up,” she told me as she gathered them all on the island.

Almond, oat, coconut, soy, and even hemp. And all of one kind of dairy.

“Do you actually use all those plant milks?”

“Forty percent of Americans are lactose intolerant. And even more than that are just sensitive to milk, so they go with plant-based ones. I go through more soy, almond, and oat than dairy.”

“Interesting,” I said, genuinely meaning it as I grabbed one of the stacked milk crates she had under a table, and helped her pile them up. “Anything else you want to pack up?”

“We should bring more coffee to the hotel. We’ve got to be running low,” she said, and I went out front to shove some into the bag with the cash. “What’s going on?” I asked.

“More eyes,” Aurelio said, a little more tense than he’d been a few minutes ago. “Think we should be moving out soon,” he added. “I did manage to snag some pictures without being obvious about it,” he added.

“We have some milk to drop at the soup kitchen,” I told him as Traveler came out with the first crate.

“Everything okay?”

“It’s looking a little dicey out there,” I told her.

“Oh,” she said, tensing again. “Okay. I’m done. Just help me get these crates out,” she said, handing one to Aurelio.

I took the next one and the bag of money, and Traveler brought the final one out.

We moved in quick, clipped movements, piling the crates in my trunk, then each getting into the cars, and driving off.

I didn’t relax until we were at the end of the street and around the corner.

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