Protected by the Monster

by Hamel, B. B.

  Uncle Luciano smiled and gestured with his cane. “Luca is correct in his assessment,” he said. “The Jalisco have proven very difficult to destroy. They’re weaker than they used to be, but they’re also less centralized, more spread out. That makes them harder to kill all at once. They keep shipping more men here, selling drugs to some of the lesser gangs, keeping their business afloat through sheer will.”

  “If you don’t do business with them, then how do you get drugs?” I asked.

  Luca looked surprised at my question and Uncle Luciano laughed. “That’s none of your concern,” he said. “Suffice to say that we have other arrangements.”

  “Of course,” I said.

  “The Jalisco need money,” he said. “They need a big cash infusion if they’re going to keep their little guerilla war going.”

  “And they think they can take me?” I asked.

  “That’s right,” he said. “That man was sent here to kidnap you, something the Jalisco and the other cartels are very good at. They’d extort everything from you, every penny, every scrap of land. And truth be told, the land is what they’re really after.”

  “I don’t understand that,” I said.

  “Fazio left you some important real estate,” Uncle Luciano said. “Buildings in downtown Chicago, buildings worth hundreds of millions of dollars. If the Jalisco could get their hands on all that money and property, they could easily take control of Chicago and set up a new base in North America.”

  “You’re their best chance at survival right now,” Luca said. “That makes them dangerous.”

  I chewed on my lip as I digested all this. “So all the money that Uncle Fazio left me just turned me into some target for this… this cartel?”

  “Exactly,” Uncle Luciano said.

  “And because they’re desperate, they’ll do anything to get at me.”

  “Which is why I’m here,” Luca said.

  “We should have explained all this in detail before,” Uncle Luciano said. “I should have made it clear how much danger you were in, but I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

  “I believe you now,” I said.

  “I hope so.” He shook his head and sighed. “That stunt in your apartment building is going to cost me. I have contacts in the police force and some pull in city hall, but making this disappear is going to be tough. I’m going to walk away from this slightly diminished, and I can’t afford that right now.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know it’s my fault. Luca’s been doing everything right, you can’t blame him”

  “I don’t fully blame Luca,” he said. “But Luca is also aware that he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place.” Uncle Luciano sighed and rubbed his face. “I believe I’ve been fair.”

  “You have, sir,” Luca said.

  Uncle Luciano seemed to nod to himself for a moment as he leaned on his cane again.

  “I’m going to return your phone,” he said. “Luca can give it back to you, if you want it.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “But I need you to swear that you won’t leave this house. Not until the lawyers have been through everything and we can make your inheritance airtight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  “Good.” He nodded to himself again. “Very good.” He turned to head toward the door. “Then I’m going to leave you in Luca’s hands. Please, no more stunts.”

  “Uncle, wait,” I said.

  He turned to me, a frown on his face. “Yes, Clair?”

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. “I mean, are you going to take some of this money, is what you want?”

  He gave me a bitter smile. “I have plenty of money,” he said, his tone sharp. “I don’t need a dime of yours.”

  “I know, it’s just—”

  “You’re family,” he said. “And as much as you hate me, as much as your mother’s taught you to despise me, I’m not such an evil bastard that I’d turn my back on you when you need it.”

  He looked at Luca, nodded once, his eyes narrowed and sharp, then headed to the door. His bodyguard opened the door and helped him outside. I watched them go, feeling like my body rang like a bell. The door slammed shut and Luca walked over and turned the bolt closed.

  He turned to me and I couldn’t meet his gaze. I looked down at the floor, feeling like an idiot. He walked over and lingered in front of me for a moment.

  I looked up into his handsome face.

  He didn’t seem like a monster. He cooked, drank wine. He smiled at me, made jokes, teased me.

  He murdered men though, killed them in cold blood.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “I think I’m going to sleep.”

  “Good idea.” He brushed past me and his hand moved across my leg, touching me slightly. I felt a chill and watched as he disappeared into the kitchen.

  I turned toward the stairs, my head dizzy, ears still ringing.

  “Clair.”

  I turned back. He stood in the kitchen doorway and held out my phone.

  I walked over and took it. He pressed it into my hand and held it there, staring into my eyes.

  “No more running away,” he said.

  “No more running,” I said.

  “Good.” He released the phone. “I’m cooking. If you change your mind, come down. Or shout and I’ll bring something up.”

  “Thanks,” I said and turned away.

  I didn’t get why he was being nice to me. I got him in trouble, made him have to kill someone, and he’s still trying to feed me, trying to be kind.

  Monsters like him weren’t supposed to be handsome and nice to me.

  They were supposed to be bastards.

  But maybe monsters came in all shapes.

  I walked to the steps and went up, trying not to think of that man’s brains splattering from his skull.

  9

  Luca

  I let Clair sleep in the next day. She stayed in her room until around ten in the morning, when I finally heard her stirring. She showered and came downstairs, her eyes red and puffy like she hadn’t slept a wink.

  “Morning,” I said. “Coffee’s in there, but it might be stale.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I don’t mind. So long as it wakes me up.”

  She wore the same yoga pants from last night, plus a gray shirt cut off at the midsection, showing off her flat stomach and firm breasts. I followed her into the kitchen, leaned against the door, watched as she got a mug and filled it.

  She took a long sip and looked at me.

  “We should do something today,” I said.

  “Can we… do that?”

  I shrugged and made a shaky gesture. “Probably.”

  “My uncle might get mad.”

  “But I have a feeling you’ll go insane if we just stay in here.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “I won’t take you somewhere that’s not,” I said. “And the Jalisco don’t know about this place, so they won’t be able to follow.”

  “I don’t know.” She chewed her lip.

  “You can sit up in that room and sulk all day if you want,” I said. “I wouldn’t blame you, I mean, it’s not every day you see someone killed right in front of you.”

  She looked away then down at her mug, took another sip. “Yeah,” she whispered.

  “So you can sit up there and keep running it through your mind, over and over again, or we can go out and do some stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?” she asked.

  I spread out my hands. “Anything you want.”

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  “I have some errands I can run then,” I said. “Some little jobs. You might enjoy it.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “I’m not really interested in… whatever you do.”

  I laughed and raised an eyebrow. “What do you think I do?”

  “Sell drugs?” She sipped her coffee. “Shake down small businesses? S
care children?”

  “None of the above,” I said. “I have guys for all that shit, including scaring children. Kids actually love me, I’m a lot of fun.”

  “You kill men.”

  “I do kill men,” I said. “When it’s necessary and they piss me off.”

  “Did that guy piss you off?”

  I stared at her, not sure why she didn’t get it.

  “He hurt you,” I said. “I couldn’t let that go.”

  “So you killed him for me then.”

  “That’s right.”

  She opened her mouth then shut it again. She walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. I tracked her with my eyes.

  “Are your ears still ringing?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Well, a little.”

  “That’s a good sign. You’ll get used to it sooner than later.”

  “Used to what?” she asked. “Killing?”

  “No, the ringing. But killing too, if you stick with me.”

  “I’m not sure I want that.” She held her mug in both hands, blew on it, sipped it again.

  “Come on, let’s go do something,” I said. “I promise, no killing.”

  She watched me, sipped her coffee, and sighed like she was about to do the most annoying thing in her entire life.

  “Fine,” she said. “But nothing illegal. I don’t want to get arrested on top of everything.”

  “Nothing illegal,” I said. “Well, nothing that illegal.”

  She opened her mouth then shook her head. “Let me get changed.”

  She stood up and went to slip past me. I grabbed her wrist as she went by, and she stared at me in surprise.

  “No need to get changed,” I said, my voice low. “You look good like that.”

  Her eyes drifted along my face, hung on my lips. She pulled her wrist away and I let her go.

  “I’ll get changed anyway,” she said, and headed to the steps.

  I watched her go up with a smile on my face. That girl was trouble, at least I was making her trouble. I really couldn’t help myself. There was something about innocent little Clair that drove me wild. Even though she was related to some of the hardest, most dangerous men in the whole damn world, she still seemed like she hadn’t been corrupted yet, like she’d been shielded from it.

  That attracted me, like a bear to honey.

  * * *

  I slipped my dark sunglasses on and pulled into traffic. Clair sat next to me, slumped in her seat, her knees up on the glove compartment, her head against the side of the door. It wasn’t the best position to be in, just in case we got attacked while on the road, but I figured we were safe enough.

  “Where are we going, anyway?” she asked.

  “Seeing some friends of mine,” I said. “I owe them a visit. And they owe me some money.”

  She groaned. “Of course. We’re doing something illegal.”

  “Not illegal,” I said. “Just… a little illegal. Relax, this is fine, don’t worry about it.”

  She grunted and shook her head. She wore a pair of tight dark jeans and a button-down navy shirt. Even though her attire was a little conservative, she still looked like she belonged on a runway. The girl’s long, lean legs and tight, pert body drove me goddamn wild no matter what she wore.

  I crossed over the Schuylkill, heading back east. I angled north and found myself in Chinatown, moving slowly through the crowded streets.

  Chinatown was a mass of buildings, restaurants, stoops and shops. Signs in English and Chinese dominated the landscape, though a lot of the Chinese had been translated into English script. Chinatown was always busting, always busy, though it was only a few blocks around in total. It was like a small oasis in the city, a little world unto its own, and traffic was always heavy.

  I managed to find a spot a couple blocks away and parked. We got out of the car and headed down the sidewalk. The sun was out, but a cool breeze ran through the streets as we made our way back into the crowded central section. The huge pagoda entrance that marked the beginning of Chinatown loomed large over the streets, with its traditional-style roof and bright red and gold decorations.

  I wove my way through the crowd, dodging strollers and slow-moving groups of tourists. The crowd was a mix of people, some locals that lived nearby moving fast between the shops, and some out-of-towners gawking at everything around them. Chinatown could be overwhelming at first, but it was like any other place in any city.

  You just had to figure it out, and then its secrets would open up.

  “I love this place,” I said as Clair caught up with me.

  “Really?” she asked. “I figured you’d be more of a South Street type.”

  “No way,” I said. “That’s some fake touristy shit these days. Chinatown’s still got real roots here. The people that own these stores, they’ve been here for generations.”

  She frowned and dodged around a group of kids talking on their phones, barely paying attention to where they were going.

  “I can’t say I come here much,” she said. “I mean, it’s always so crowded. Really chaotic.”

  “I love it,” I said. “The food here’s amazing. Not just Chinese, either. Lots of good stuff. There’s a Korean place I love, and a Thai place you’ll have to try, and there’s this Burmese restaurant that’s unbelievable.”

  “Burmese?” she asked, laughing a little. “Okay, now that I have to try.”

  “I’ll take you there some time, I promise,” I said. “Right now, though, we have some business.”

  I moved around a display of small brightly colored socks set up on a plastic folding table outside of a clothing store and stopped out in front of a restaurant called Lucky Hog. The door was shut and the gate was down, but there was a small white doorbell right next to the handle. I hit it once, waited a second, hit it two more times, and stepped back.

  Clair lingered, looking around with a frown. “It looks closed,” she said. “And the name is really weird.”

  “Just wait a minute,” I said, crossing my arms. “He’ll come out.”

  “Who are we seeing, anyway?”

  “The old Hog himself.” I looked back and grinned at her, but before I could explain, the gate rolled up and the door unlocked.

  An old man stood there, his hair white and slicked back. He had tan, wrinkled skin, dark eyes, and a perpetual scowl on his face. His skinny body wore a baggy button-down Hawaiian shirt tucked into a pair of cargo shorts stained with oil.

  “Luca,” he said, practically barking at me. “What are you doing here?”

  “Came to collect, Hog,” I said.

  Hog shook his head and gestured wildly. “You just show up, want to collect, don’t give any notice. Come on, Luca, you can’t do that to me.”

  “Hog,” I said. “It’s been two weeks. Don’t act like this is a surprise. I know you’re good for it.”

  Hog dropped his hands, spotted Clair. “The girl with you?”

  “The girl’s with me,” I said, staring at him. “That’s fine, right?”

  “Of course,” he said, looking offended. “Any friend of yours is a friend of Hog’s. Come on, get in here, you bastard.”

  I grinned at him and then gestured for Clair to follow. Hog disappeared into his restaurant and I stepped inside. Clair moved in past me, and I pulled the door shut, rolling the gate down again.

  Hog’s place was fastidiously clean. The sitting area was cramped and small, but swept and polished. The booths were kept immaculate, the vinyl oiled and kept in pristine condition, the carpet deep cleaned at least once every year. The walls had the same old paintings in cliché Chinese styles, probably to make the visiting tourists happy, but they were brightly colored and vivid. Part of me thought he got them repainted every few months, but that would be extravagant, even for Hog.

  He stomped through the dining area toward the back and I followed. Clair came close, giving me these weird, confused looks, and I just shook my head and grinned at her. I took her hand and held it, just t
o make sure she didn’t lose her nerve, as Hog took us into his kitchen.

  It was a mess of activity. Men and women, some I recognized and some I didn’t, worked at the various stations chopping vegetables, prepping meats, putting together sauces. Each station was impeccable, and Hog glared around at everyone as he stomped through. I could have sworn every person in there stood a little straighter and chopped a little faster as Hog moved through his domain, the stainless steel gleaming, the knives bright and sharp.

  He led us into the very back of the kitchen and behind a small half-wall. There, hanging in neat rows, their skin perfectly browned, their necks turned to the side like they’d been hanged for treason, were beautiful Peking ducks.

  Hog gestured at them. “Here,” he said. “Your damn ducks.”

  I grinned at the beautiful, delicious little birdies and stepped toward them. “How many?” I asked.

  “Just two,” he snapped. “And you know it.”

  “Two whole ducks,” I said, my voice a whisper, a feeling of giddy excitement in my stomach. “Hog, I could kiss you.”

  “Save it for the girl,” he said dryly. “Here, I’ll package them. Don’t ever say old Hog’s a sore loser.”

  I stepped aside and returned to Clair as Hog went to work taking the two ducks down and packaging them up in in a white waxed box and a large paper bag.

  “Why is he giving you ducks?” Clair asked, her voice a whisper.

  “I beat him in cards,” I said. “He ran out of money, so I let him wager ducks.”

  “Wow,” she said and laughed. “Really?”

  “Really. These ducks are like a hundred bucks each.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Seriously?”

  “They’re the best in the city by far. Hog’s a no-joke chef, he has a Michelin Star.”

  “Wow,” she said, looking around with newfound appreciation. “I honestly had no clue.”

  “He keeps a low profile these days, but we’re in a mutual card game. He’s not a bad player, just had some poor luck that night.”

  She laughed a little, shaking her head. “Lucky for me then.”