Page 125 of Working for the Mob

“Hang with me, Ms. Casey. Hang in there!” Barney shouted, and I finally felt my wrists fall free. “Now what?”

“Water!” Lucy yelled. “She needs water!”

“Right!” Barney said, and lumbered to the tray across the room.

I had to take the opportunity as it presented itself. As silently as I could, I picked up the chair above my head, easy to do after an entire season of hauling crates at the café, and crept up behind Barney.

He turned around and I hesitated. I had never hurt anyone before. I hung there for a moment while his eyes widened like saucers. “Ms. Casey. I thought you were dead.”

The word “dead” caught my attention. If it were up to the Valuncias, either Lucy and I or Art would be dead after tonight.

I brought the chair crashing down onto his bald head as hard as I could and he collapsed to the floor with a thud. I hope no one heard that.

“I do hope he’ll be alright,” I said over Barney’s lifeless body. And I meant it. Lawrence was the dangerous Valuncia.

Barney seemed as harmless as Mr. Thimblepaws

“ACHOO!” (As long as you don’t have allergies.)

A reedy voice called from below. “You having any trouble in there, Barney?” Lem’s voice called up.

“What do we do?” I whispered to Lucy.

“Answer back,” Lucy said, as though the answer were obvious.

But I could never imitate Barney's bullfrog croak.

I shook my head vigorously.

“We’re just fine,” Lucy shouted, her voice lowered a couple octaves.

“Barney?” Lem shouted back. “Is that you? Is everything alright?”

I poked my head out of the door and heard the creak of the stairs and footsteps.

Everything was not alright.

I goaded Lucy to respond with a wave of my hand.

“Everything’s fine. I’ll be down in a minute,” she croaked back, but her voice cracked on the last word.

“What the hell?” Lem shouted, and his footsteps quickened.

My heart jumped into my throat. I had about five seconds before Lem, the mustached creep, came upstairs to find me loose and he would have a big enough excuse to put his hands all over me.

To buy us some time, I slammed the door as footsteps thundered down the hall; I was running out of time.

I wedged the chair under the door just before the handle rattled to life.

“Barney, are you in there?” Lem shouted, and banged on the door. “Open the door, dammit!”

I couldn’t peel my eyes from the door as Lem pounded its frame.

“If you two girls pull any funny business, I’ll shove my shit-covered boots straight down yer throats!” Lem shouted between pounds.

Dust shook from the door frame onto the floor.

Does knocking a Valuncia out by smashing his head with a chair count as “funny business”?

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