Page 46 of Working for the Mob

That’s how Lance predicted this to go down. We show our hand and I trump whatever cards they’re holding. Like dealing with a bully on the playground, we stand up to them one time, and they back down. That’s the play our anointed mob boss drew up.

“No.”

Because like it or not, we’re the bully.

Chapter 14 – Genevieve

Athwack rang through my room and I groaned. I didn’t have to wake up for church for another two hours, but the noise persisted.

Another thwack, like a hammer driving into my skull, reverberated through the house. I pulled my pillow over my head, but each new chop drove my teeth together.

Thwack.

Please let them stop.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

I knew who it must be, but I didn’t want to see him anymore than I wanted to get out of bed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

I swung my nightgown around me, pulled on my shoes, and opened the front door to winter’s cold tendrils.

The frost covered grass crunched beneath my feet as I turned around the side yard to see exactly who I expected.

Art, in a sleeveless white t-shirt, stood feet away from me with an ax in his hand. He lifted the ax, and came down hard on a log, splitting it neatly in two.

Even though it must have been barely above freezing, my loins burned. I could count every one of the flexed muscles on each arm. He picked up the nearly split log and pulled it apart with his hands. Both of his triceps bulged, threatening to bust through his skin.

I bit my lip. I wanted to be that log.

I shook my head. What did that even mean?

If anyone from my mother’s book club knew I had thoughts like that, she’d be kicked out.

His hair lay limp over his eyes, and he threw it back, stood up, and finally noticed me.

“I don’t remember inviting you over,” I said, and tugged my coat even tighter. How he managed without a coat was beyond me.

“I saw last night that you needed firewood,” he said, and gestured to our dwindling pile beside the house.

He looked like he had recently lost a fight. Dark bags sagged under his bloodshot eyes. His right cheek was bruised and there was also a deep cut above his left eyebrow. What had he been doing?

“It's getting below freezing at night and you need more.”

“Yes, but I didn’t ask you for help. You can’t just show up here and start chopping wood at the crack of dawn and wake up the whole street.”

“I’m the homeowner. I can show up whenever I want to.”

Schnitzel!He was right.

“And it's past seven a.m. People are already awake,” he said.

“What do you want with me, Art?”

“For you to go back to bed.”

“No, I mean why are you here? You rent us a house. You gave us jobs. Showed up yesterday morning and rushed us into the city. You bought Lucy an oven and the two of us clothes. Why are you doing this? What do you want out of us?”

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