11. Boom!
MICHELA
11
Yesterday, I lost the only semi-steady job I had, and today, I lost my car. But hey, I gained an acquaintance with a man who, despite witnessing my distress over the car, walks with a bounce in his step. When he loops his arm around my shoulders, I shrug it off.
Amused, he chuckles.
“I’m glad someone finds humor in this,” I say under my breath as we walk past the gates where the pair of Dobermans bark their heads off.
At the sleek black car, Corrado’s driver awaits. He opens the door.
“You remember Hank?” Corrado asks me.
I nod. “Good morning, Hank.”
“Morning, Ms. Mancini.”
When I’m addressed by his last name, I glance at Corrado, who raises his eyebrow, daring me to protest. With an eye roll, I slide into another beautiful leather space with touches of aged, polished wood and personal electronics tucked into the back of the two front seats. It reminds me of an airplane, but much nicer. Maybe first class.
I slide my hand over the leather. Smooth. Real. Rich. Definitely first class.
“If you’re done petting my car,” Corrado says from the door, “do you mind putting this bag in the compartment under my seat?” He drops a duffel on the seat. It’s unzipped, and the barrel of a handgun peeks from inside.
“Sure.” I zip it all the way, open the compartment, and drop the duffel there.
Corrado rests his elbow against the car door. Hazel eyes watch me the way a snake watches a wounded bird on the ground.
Still upset with him about my car, I look away and don’t look back at him even though I feel his gaze on my profile.
“I need a half an hour,” he says. “Do you have somewhere to be this morning?”
“As if you care,” I mumble.
“What was that?” he asks.
“Nothing.”
“Speak up, Michela. Do you have somewhere to be?”
“I have a job interview.” I lie because saying I have nowhere to be and nothing to do besides languish on my bed in my bedroom like a bored teenager might break me.
“On a Saturday?”
I nod. “People work on Saturdays.”
“When is the interview?” he asks.
“At noon.”
“Noon on a Saturday. Sounds like you’re having lunch with someone.”
I sigh. “It’s an interview.”
He taps the roof. “Fine, give me half an hour, and we can leave. The door stays open.”
I check my phone for any messages, check the app for job postings, apply to two of them, and send a message for the third one when another car pulls up. It’s a pink van with a sticker of a German Shepard taking a bath across the entire side of the car. A working van for a pet grooming business.
The vehicle pulls up near the gate, and a lady dressed in brown overalls and a large white sun hat gets out. From her gait, I see that she’s elderly. She embraces Corrado before walking toward the pair of dogs in the lot. They’re on a leash.
Corrado and the woman chat for a bit, and she moves away while Corrado starts walking toward the larger and clearly more aggressive of the two animals.
He approaches the dog slowly but surely, each step measured though not hurried. While the dog has stopped barking, he’s tucked his tail, and the hair along his spine stands upright, indicating displeasure.
Chewing my lip, I step out of the car and cover my mouth. I wouldn’t dare do this, and I wished Corrado would leave the dog alone. What’s he doing? Why is he doing this? Gosh, he’s mental.
Corrado grips the dog’s muzzle, but the dog manages to wrestle away and bites Corrado’s arm. I gasp as Corrado struggles with the dog. The big dog fights in earnest, snarling at Corrado, snapping his teeth, but Corrado keeps at it and finally manages to unhook the metal chain, grip the dog by the back of his neck, and hold him off.
When Corrado forces the animal to rise on his hind legs, and the lady approaches and bends lower, I see blood trickling down the animal’s belly. It’s from the metal spikes in his collar that’ve been digging into his neck for God knows how long.
Once the woman walks away, Corrado picks up the animal and holds him against his chest. He whispers into the dog’s ear, and oddly, the dog stops struggling. Corrado puts him in the back of the lady’s car without much fuss and then returns for the smaller, chocolate-brown one, who watches the whole thing, whining the entire time.
This one seems scared, so Corrado pets it before unhooking the metal chain. The heavy thing drops to the ground, sending up a puff of dirt. The lady comes over, and they huddle around the dog. I chew my lip.
Corrado steps away at the same time that Hank rounds the car and opens the passenger door. He bends and, a moment later, comes away with a military-green duffel that he carries over to Corrado, who takes it and walks away. The lady hands over the dog to Hank, who walks it to the car. The dog settles into the passenger seat.
Poor thing clearly hasn’t had a bath in God knows how long. I want to pet her, but I’m too chicken right now.
Hank returns to his seat. The lady drives away.
I return to my seat as well. “What’s going on?” The moment it comes out of my mouth, I know I’ve asked a question Hank won’t answer. Corrado keeps him on the payroll for a reason, and discretion is one of those reasons. Still, I await an answer.
Hank pets the dog. “Don’t know.”
Corrado takes a while, way longer than half an hour. I check my watch. It’s nearing noon, and for all he knows, I’ll be late for a job interview. I scoot back toward the open door when Hank barks, “Ma’am, you must stay in the car.”
“I understand, but if—” An explosion makes me scream and cover my head. Another smaller one, followed by a series of tiny explosions, makes me grab the handle of my door. It’s locked. The barking dog and I have a lot in common. We’re freaking out. I slide over the seat toward the open door and start to get out when I see Corrado emerging from the dust cloud that’s collected in the center of the junkyard.
His satisfied smirk is reminiscent of Lucifer rising from hell. He enjoyed wrecking this place.
Before he sits in the car, Corrado dusts off his sleeves, then scowls and walks toward the back. He pops the trunk and takes something from it. I wait for him to explain any of this, but he takes so long that I step out and meet him at the back of the car.
Corrado is nude.
Completely naked and shoving his clothes into a plastic bag. The thing he pulled out of the trunk was a suitcase. It’s open. There’s a stack of clean clothes in there, which makes me think he either planned this or just normally keeps clothes in the back of his car. Or he’s packed and going somewhere. I have no idea, in the same way that I have no idea what’s going on with this dangerous man.
This dangerous, beautiful man. His body is strong and hairy, with defined muscle, and he doesn’t give a rat’s ass if I watch him or not. I note his arousal. Danger excites him. I think we might have that in common.
Now dressed in black jeans and an off-white button-down shirt, he closes the trunk and stands before me.
“Did you enjoy the view?” he asks.
“Hm?”
“Did you like looking at me?”
I walk away.
Footsteps crunch the gravel behind me.
“Leave me alone,” I shout.
Corrado materializes in front of me. I try going around him, but I can’t. With a sigh, I throw up my hands. “You towed my car, then destroyed it. That wasn’t enough. You blew up the entire lot. That’s a Saturday morning for you. That can’t be my morning. The cops will come. I have to get out here.”
He checks his watch. “We still have a few minutes.”
“What?” I frown.
“The response is a few minutes out.”
“How do you know that?”
Corrado stares blankly.
“Right. The same way you know congressmen and made men.” Frustrated, I bite my lip. “If we don’t leave soon, together, we’ll get arrested.”
“Nobody will touch you.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I can.”
“What about you?”
“I have less than a minute to clear this street, or I’ll have to pull some serious strings to get out of trouble for this.”
My brother went to jail for me. I can’t have another man serve time because I wouldn’t get into his stupid fancy car.
“Fine.” I go back to the car and slide into my seat. He sits and closes the door. Tires squeal as Hank peels away from the street just as sirens wail in the distance.
“Give me a reason. Something. Anything,” I say. “Why did you blow up the place?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Corrado takes out some gauze from a first aid kit he retrieved from somewhere in the car. I was too busy with the explosion and stress to notice he’s carrying a kit for cleaning up his wound from the dog bite before the blood starts dripping on his pants.
“You’re going to deny it?” I ask. I wish my brother had done the same. I wish he’d denied what he did the way I would’ve denied it on the witness stand. They never called me to testify. He wouldn’t let them near me.
“Nothing to deny. It was a gas leak.”
Oh my God. I run a hand through my hair, then fidget with it. “Why? Why did you do it? We could’ve just driven off, albeit with the dogs.”
“You like her?” Corrado points at the dog, then rips the gauze wrap with his teeth.
“She’s pretty.”
The bottom piece of gauze sticks to the blood, but the top one keeps sliding off his forearm as he tries to wrap it himself. I scoot over and touch the top of his hand. “Hey,” I say. “Let me help you.”
Corrado looks up, our eyes locking. Just when I think he’ll refuse, he hands me the wrap. I start swathing his arm, not asking anything more, because I know he won’t tell me.
“I did it,” he starts after I finish with his arm and roll the sleeve down to cover it. “Because people must pay for messing with my wife.”
“Christ, Corrado, I’m not really your?—”
He fists my hair and presses a palm over my mouth. Inches from my face, he asks, “You like Hank, hm? You want him to live?”
Wide-eyed, I nod.
“Then mind your mouth. If me and you have a secret agreement, that secret remains between me and you, not me, you, the driver, and the dog.” He releases me and rolls his shoulders as if letting off pent-up aggression.
I bite my lip. “I don’t want anyone doing things for me that can get them in trouble.”
“I don’t require your permission.”
Jesus. He can be such a dick.