Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NICO
I wandered back to clean up the kitchen. I hadn’t been all that hungry when Cody was eating his dinner, so I’d just stolen a couple of his chicken nuggets. But now my stomach was rumbling, reminding me I’d had a busy day and hadn’t eaten much. I opened the fridge and was dissatisfied with all its contents. Closing the door and opening it again did not magically change that, sadly.
I had a sudden hankering for barbecue. Comfort food was always good when I was stressed. I opened the browser on my phone to see if Mutiny, my favorite barbecue place, was still open. It was. I went to their online order menu and ordered a pulled pork sandwich and some fries. I decided to pick it up rather than wait for it to get to me lukewarm.
I made sure the back door was locked, grabbed my coat and keys, and headed out the front door. After I locked the front door, I turned and noticed our next-door neighbor Janice walking up her sidewalk on the arm of a young Asbury Park police officer. Janice was an older Black woman, probably in her seventies, and kind of frail-looking. In the light of the motion sensor floodlight on her porch, I saw a brace on her left hand peeking out from the sleeve of her heavy winter coat.
“Hey, Janice,” I called. “Are you okay?”
She waved her injured arm at me. “I’m fine. I just took a tumble and hurt my wrist.” She gently patted the chest of the police officer. “This is my great-nephew Rodney. He picked me up from the emergency room.”
I gave Officer Rodney an up-nod. “Hey. I’m Nico Galanis. Let me or my b…roommate Gabe know if Janice needs any help.”
“I’m fine,” the older woman protested.
Rodney smiled fondly at her. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I gave them a final wave and got in the car. I had to stop at the end of the driveway to avoid hitting someone crossing the street right behind me. “Idiot,” I muttered.
The drive to Mutiny took less than five minutes. I could have walked, but it was cold, and I’d already been freezing all morning at work. I got a spot right across the street from the restaurant and hurried inside to get out of the wind. While waiting for my food, I had time to think about my slip-up with the cop. I’d almost called Gabe my boyfriend. It kind of felt like we were boyfriends, but we hadn’t said it out loud. And I wouldn’t be able to ask him about it until he got back from Croatia. I rolled my eyes at myself. I was probably overthinking things again.
My stomach rumbled when I finally got my food. It smelled delicious, and I couldn’t wait to dig into the sandwich. I snagged a few fries from the bag before I ran back out into the cold. I was about to open the driver’s door when I caught a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. I almost looked toward it, but then I saw a person in a hooded jacket reflected in the car window. They were walking straight for me and were definitely trying to be quiet.
I casually set the bag of food on the roof of the car and pocketed my keys. The person came up behind me and raised their right hand to hit or grab me. Everything Gabe and Paul taught me came back in a flood of instinct. I let them get just close enough for my elbow to make solid contact with their midsection. The grunt of pain that followed was definitely made by a man. I whirled around and hit him with a left hook to the jaw. As he was stumbling into the street, I kicked the side of his knee hard. He went down in a heap, screaming.
Before I could get my bearings, someone tackled me from the side. Luckily, I was able to keep them from getting me on the ground. I twisted to get out of their hold, shoving them against the trunk of the car. It was another man. A third guy joined him, and they started hitting me and pushing me toward a small park. I assumed they were trying to get out of the street lights so no one could see what was happening.
I knew from experience that yelling for help wouldn’t do any good. But you know what? Fuck these guys. Gabe and Paul had shown me how to hurt people if I needed to. I channeled everything I remembered about fighting two-on-one. My best bet was to disable one of them as quickly as possible so I would only be fighting one. With that in mind, I pushed them off me and sprinted toward the park like I was trying to get away.
As I hoped, one caught up with me and grabbed my arm. Perfect. I turned, got hold of his wrist, and twisted his arm behind his back until I heard the pop of his shoulder dislocating. While he was still screaming, I punched him in the face. He went out like a light.
Burning pain seared my side. The last motherfucker had stabbed me. I was going to kill him. “You son of a bitch,” I growled. “Come fight me like a grown man, you little shit.”
“You shoulda stayed in prison, you fucking snitch,” he snarled.
I tucked that bit of information aside to look at later. “You’re gonna wish I had. You think I got through four years in there without learning how to kill a man?”
He charged me again, knife extended. “Come try,” he sneered.
This asshole was making it too easy. I deflected his strike with my left arm and clipped his jaw with my right hand. It threw him off just enough for me to grab the wrist of his weapon hand and twist his arm behind his back. I wrapped my hand around his closed fist and forced the knife out of his hand. As it dropped to the ground at my feet, I imagined picking it up and shoving it into his neck.
I shook my head. No. My son needed his father. Instead, I broke his wrist. I didn’t touch the knife. I just walked away. My whole side was on fire now, and I could feel the blood oozing down, soaking the waistband of my jeans.
I was heading for the car, trying to decide whether I should go to the hospital when the first guy came limping toward me. “Goddamnit,” I groaned. “Don’t you people know when to quit?”
“Leave him alone!” another man shouted. “I’ve already called the police.”
“Fuck,” I moaned. I supposed it was inevitable. I would have had to get the police involved no matter what.
The guy with the busted-up knee changed direction and limped away from me toward his friends. Before he got out of earshot, he said, “We’ll just go after your kid.”
Rage filled me, and I saw red. I turned to go after him, determined to rip out his throat. A strong hand gripped my arm, and a man’s voice said, “Don’t. You’re bleeding, and the police will be here any second. They’re just down Main Street.” Sure enough, the sound of sirens pierced the air, making my heart race and my anxiety spike.
I looked at the guy who had my arm. I could just see him in the glow of the street lights. He had fair skin and wavy blond hair that touched his shoulders. He was wearing a heavy jacket over dark-blue scrubs. “Are you a doctor?” I asked.
He smiled. “Nurse practitioner.” He gestured to the building adjacent to the park. “I work at the VNA LGBT clinic. I’m Jon.”
“Oh.” I blinked. I was starting to feel lightheaded. “Do you know Liam O’Neil? He works there too.” I swayed on my feet, but Jon held me upright.
“I know Liam very well,” he replied as he steered me toward the clinic. “I’m covering for him while he’s away.”
“My boyfriend is with them,” I said. Then I blinked. I hadn’t meant to say that.
Jon guided me to the door leading into the clinic. “He is? That must be rough for you.”
Before I could answer, two police cars came racing into the parking lot. Jon waved at them but kept ushering me into the building. I heard one of the officers call out something, but Jon just shook his head and kept walking. We walked through a waiting room, turned down a short hallway, and into an exam room on the left. One of the police officers followed right behind.
“Jon, what’s going on?” the police officer asked. He was a white man who looked to be in his early forties. His nameplate read Florio.
“This man is injured, and I’m helping him,” Jon replied curtly. He motioned for me to take off my jacket. I winced as I went to pull my arm out of the sleeve. He helped me out of the coat and draped it over the back of a chair while the police officer waited impatiently.
“Can I get your name?” Officer Florio asked tersely.
“Nicolas Galinas.” I winced as I lifted my arms so Jon could take off my bloody shirt. “My wallet is in my jacket pocket.”
Jon waved me off when I went to get my jacket off the chair. “Sit on the exam table. I’ll get your wallet.”
“Listen,” I said to Officer Florio. “The guys who jumped me said something about going after my son. I need to call his uncle to make sure he’s okay.”
“Why don’t you just slow down and tell me what happened first?” Officer Florio retorted. Under his breath, he muttered something about gang bangers. Fucking fantastic.
“Because my four-year-old son could be in danger,” I barked. “One of those guys stabbed me. You think they wouldn’t hurt a little kid?”
Florio took a step toward me. “Listen, punk. I’m the one who calls the shots here.”
“Enough.” Jon stepped between me and the cop. He handed Florio my wallet and gave me my cell phone. “I’m in charge in this room.” He turned to me. “Call your son.”
I took my phone with a shaking hand and hit Zach’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Hey, Nico. What’s up?”
“Listen. Something happened, and I need to make sure you, Miguel, and Cody are safe.”
“What are you talking about?” he asked in a clipped tone.
“I can’t get into it right now, but some guys jumped me, and I heard one of them say something about going after my son before he ran away.” I winced when Jon started wiping down my stab wound. “Just make sure your door is locked, and don’t let anyone in if you don’t know them.”
“Jesus Christ, Nico. I just left you an hour ago. What the hell happened?”
I saw Florio glaring at me and sighed. “I have to go. I have to talk to the police. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.”
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Not really. I’ll talk to you soon.” I ended the call and set the phone beside me on the exam table.
“Are you available to talk now?” Officer Florio asked in a condescending tone.
I clenched my jaw. It wouldn’t do me any good to argue with a cop. “Yeah. I just needed to make sure my son was safe.”
He pulled out a small notebook. “What happened out there?”
I gave him a detailed description of everything that had happened from the time I left the restaurant until Jon showed up with his phone and the limping guy threatened Cody. By then, Jon had finished cleaning the wound and was examining it closely. “What’s the verdict, Doc?”
He smirked but didn’t correct me. “Luckily, it’s not too deep. Your coat protected you from the worst of it. You’ll need stitches, but you shouldn’t have to go to the hospital. Unless you want to.”
I shook my head. “No thanks.”
“Okay,” he replied. “I have to get some supplies from the back to do the stitches.” He narrowed his eyes at the cop. “Let’s all be civil while I’m gone.” He squeezed my shoulder and left the room.
“Can we get back to the questions?” Officer Florio asked testily.
Before I could respond, a second police officer entered the room. It was Rodney, the cop who was Janice’s great-nephew. His nameplate read Jones. “Nico?”
“Hey.” Well, that sucked. Now, he was going to think I was some thug living next door to his beloved great-aunt.
“You know this guy?” Florio asked incredulously.
“He lives next door to Aunt Janice,” Rodney replied.
“No shit.” The old cop shook his head. “What did you get from the other caller?”
“The cashier at Mutiny said he saw Nico get attacked from behind when he got to his car. He fought off the first attacker, but two more jumped in.” He noted the wound on my left side. “You okay?”
“I’ve been better,” I replied.
“So you don’t know these guys?” Florio asked.
I shook my head. “No. But I think this is related to a security job I did on New Year’s Eve.”
His brows rose in disbelief. “You work for a security company?”
I bristled but kept my cool. “Yes. I work for Angel Security.”
Florio snorted a harsh laugh. His gaze ran up my body, no doubt noting my many tattoos. “You work for Tony D’Angelo?”
“Yes,” I ground out. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, if it’s true. You just don’t seem like the kind of guy Mr. D’Angelo would hire.”
I took a deep breath to calm myself. Nothing good would come from me losing my shit at this ignorant asshole. Instead, I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts until I got to Tony’s number. I hit call, put it on speaker, and held it out to Officer Florio. I heard Tony answer, “Nico? What’s up?”
Florio had no choice but to respond. “Is this Tony D’Angelo?”
“Yeah. Who are you, and why do you have Nico’s phone?”
He glared at me. “This is Officer Dominic Florio from the Asbury Park PD. Nico was involved in an altercation tonight, and he said it might have something to do with a security job your company did on New Year’s Eve. I was just trying to verify his employment with you.”
“Yes, he works for me,” Tony snapped. “Let me talk to him.”
Florio handed the phone back to me, and I took it off speaker. “Hey, Tony.”
“What happened?” he asked without preamble.
I gave him an abbreviated version of the story I’d told the police. “Tony,” I croaked, my voice choked with fear, “they threatened my son.”
“That was a mistake,” he replied, his voice low and dangerous. “No one messes with our family.”
A shiver ran up my spine at his words. “What are you going to do?” I asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“For now, I’m going to send some people your way to watch your place and Zach’s. Then, when Michael gets back, I’m going to put him on the problem. These people are gonna wish they’d never been born.”
“I don’t understand. Why Michael?”
“I’ll explain it to you when you’re not in a room full of cops. Just know, we take care of our own.”
Despite everything, a sense of relief washed over me. I wasn’t alone. There were people who had my back. The only thing missing was Gabe’s arms around me.