Chapter 2
Massimo
Pulling into the parking lot of the diner, my eyes search for anything out of sorts. Hadley’s beat-up car sits near the dumpster underneath the streetlamp. She has a good head on her shoulders in protecting herself. It is something I have learned that she has: resilience.
Unfortunately, parking under a light isn’t going to save her from the possibilities of the dangers that wrap around her in the shadows.
A danger that includes me.
Parking and turning off the engine, I exit the blacked-out SUV, grabbing my newspaper and putting it under my arm. Same shit, different day.
I don’t entirely consider the man who steps out from the building one door over and nods at me. After searching around once more and seeing nothing out of place, I move quickly and enter the building.
The lanky man practically trembles as he greets me. “Mr. Costa, sir. I have the information you requested.”
“It’s all there. Nothing is missing, correct?” I warn, and his hand shakes the envelope along with it.
“Yes, sir. Everything.”
I hold out my hand, and he gives it to me, my gaze never leaving his. He, Adam, owed me for his transgressions, and I kept him on a tight leash. Adam’s hacking skills are impeccable, and I use those skills as much as possible.
“Good man. Talk soon.” I turn to leave.
“Sir…” he stutters. “Are my debts clear now?”
“They’re fuckin’ done when I say they’re done. Got me?”
His head nods as his entire body trembles. “Yes, sir.”
Saying nothing, I tuck the envelope under my arm with the newspaper and make my way to Clyde’s.
Entering the building, the chime above the door goes off, and I instantly hear the chatter throughout the place. Today they have added the spray snow to the windows. We are in Texas; this is the only snow we can plan on having. The likelihood of the real deal is slim, and I hope no one in here is hoping for a white Christmas.
Several tables are full for a change as Hadley runs around the joint, smiling at each and every person. My usual spot in the back is open, and I slide into what I consider my chair. Back to the wall, eyes to the front door, watching even when no one thinks I am—ever diligent to all the details. It’s necessary, the difference between life and death.
Scanning the surroundings, I open the paper and begin to stare at the letters.
“Black coffee for you,” Hadley states, setting a cup on a saucer and pouring the black java inside.
I say nothing, giving her my typical nod.
“You want some sweet rolls to go with that today? Mrs. Janosky shared her traditional Polish recipe. They are absolutely the best!” she asks exuberantly, a bit of hope coming through her tone.
It seems like a challenge to her: getting me to eat something, but it isn’t happening. I almost want to laugh. Challenge accepted.
Shaking my head, she gets the cue, walking off to the next table. The view from behind is just as good as the front. I reach for the cup and take a sip. Same crap, different day. Fuck, this shit is like tar going down and a lead weight once it hits.
An hour and a half later, I learn nothing new, and it is time for me to leave. I’m sure my presence is already a thing of curiosity to her and the others. Staying for her entire shift will make it known she’s on my radar instead of me casually coming in. When I started this a few months ago, I hit the diner up once every few days, then gradually built up to my morning routine.
The bell above the door rings, and my eyes lift. While there are more patrons today than usual, it’s imperative I know who’s around her and their intentions. Until I can make heads or tails of the bullshit that has gone down, I can’t make any assumptions, and looking into the envelope here is not an option.
Every person she encounters may give me the answers I seek. Immediately, I’m on alert. The man who enters doesn’t fit the mold of those who frequent Clyde’s. Uncertain, Texas is a small town, and he isn’t local. He is suspicious and not because he’s a stranger. There’s something else. He has a large backpack on, and his clothes are tattered, seeing better days. More than likely, they haven’t been washed in quite some time.
With well-worn boots, it appears as if he’s been walking some distance. In my time here, there aren’t many outsiders, and this one stands out.
A man doesn’t make it far in my world taking things at face value. Just because it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck, it doesn’t always mean it’s a duck. He may not be a threat. Maybe he’s a nomad of sorts, passing through. In the seventies, it was common practice to hitchhike across the country, blindingly trusting the stranger. Now, not so much.
Fuck that shit. I don’t trust anyone except to a point. Emilio, my little brother and right hand, doesn’t even know the full extent of my concerns. Not because he’s the one who crossed me, but because I don’t want anyone realizing I’m onto this shit. Emilio is loyal and will want to do his part to protect me and this organization. Anything that seems out of the ordinary will tip off the people who work for me and even possibly my enemies.
Weakness ends in death, and I will be the last motherfucker standing. I’ve been careful to build this routine, even bringing my son on the weekends for breakfast. Thank fuck the pancakes are good. To everyone, I have simply found a place to start each day before being the ruthless bastard they have to deal with. To me, I’m hunting and watching for the right time to kill.
Who that will be? Well, with each passing moment, I feel like I’m getting closer to knowing who crossed me. Once I can, without a doubt, confirm it, I’ll be personally ending their entire bloodline.
Hadley
Happy, yet tired as hell, the bell rings above the door. I swear that sound haunts me in my dreams from time to time, and considering that today is busier than normal, the noise never seems to stop.
Susan, one of the other waitresses, called out, which I should’ve known would happen since she’s known for not giving a shit about others, but I was hoping she’d actually show up.
She is always rude, disrespectful, and lazy—three traits that are not good for a person in the food service industry.
Needless to say, Susan is not at the top of my list of people I like. Hell, she isn’t even on it. But she’s another set of hands to where I have at least a little time off from this place. Of course, only when she shows up. She won’t last long here. Gilbert gives people several shots, but once his patience runs out, he’s going to chuck her.
Then I’ll have to move on and find someone else to train, which takes up a lot of damn time that I don’t have.
Grin on my face, a haggard man with scuffed-to-hell boots and dirt smudged on his face walks through the door. If I were a betting woman, it appears he hasn’t slept in quite some time. Can’t help my curiosity about his story, not that I will dare ask. It’s none of my business, and the way I grew up, keeping my nose out of other people's problems is always safer.
With a large backpack on, he approaches the counter and takes a seat. He groans, taking the pack off and setting it on the floor.
“Well, hello there. What can I get you?” I ask, grabbing a menu and placing it down in front of him.
In a very raspy voice, he answers, “Water, please.”
“Sure thing. Gotta run out some food. Be right back.”
He doesn’t answer, just nods. Out of the corner of my eye, tall, dark, and handsome has his nose in his newspaper. That man. Strange. Mysterious. And very, very hot. But what is with the newspaper? No one reads those anymore, do they? Phones. Tablets. But a physical paper? Strange.
After doing a run and double-checking on my patrons, I head back to the stranger. “What can I get you?”
“What can a buck sixty-seven get me?” he asks, my heart sinking for him.
Anytime I encounter someone struggling, it instantly takes me back to the day before I turned eighteen. My foster parents at the time sat me down with my pillowcase of belongings beside them and explained, “Hadley, you’re a sweet girl. Life will be good for you. At midnight, you turn eighteen and you’re out of the system. We need the money, so you are going to have to go in order for the caseworker to bring us the next child. It’s been nice having you with us for the last year.”
And with those parting words, I was tossed out to figure life out. I had my car, which is a clunker, and two hundred dollars saved to begin my life… alone.
Mentally, I begin thinking through the menu to help this fellow out. Less than two dollars is a stretch for sure. A cup of coffee, maybe. Even sides are one ninety-nine or up. The cheapest meal is five ninety-nine. Yeah, he isn’t going to get much.
I don’t have money to spare. Every dime I make is put to bills, trying to live, and keeping my car running. I was him once, though. No money. No home. Starving. Nothing.
A kind woman gave me help when I was sleeping in my car those first few months. She found me sleeping in the parking lot of the grocery store I worked at. Offered me a temporary place to shower, sleep, and gave me the best advice anyone could: “Get yourself a job waiting tables. The tips will pay out daily. Honey, it’s always a man’s world, but we women need to think smart to survive.”
My heartstrings tug at me with all the memories, and I need to figure out what I can spare. This won’t be much, but it is something. At least he can have a belly full before resuming his travels. It is the holiday season, and maybe this will be the only meal he gets.
“It can get you two eggs, biscuits and sausage gravy, bacon, sausages, home fries, hot cakes, and a coffee. You in?”
His brows rise to the top of his head in shock. “All that?”
“Yep. How do you want your eggs?” I ask, not blinking an eye. No one likes being pitied. I sure didn’t and still don’t. Consider it an early Christmas present to a stranger.
“Over easy, please.”
“You got it. It’ll be ready soon.” Smiling, I write everything down on the ticket and put it on the spinner for Gilbert. He lifts his chin, acknowledging the order, and begins to get to work. It doesn’t take long before the food is ready, and I serve him.
As soon as the plate is set down, the bell over the door rings, and Mr. Mysterious walks out. Guess he’s done for the day. Coffee and a newspaper in an old diner—how thrilling! No wonder he’s always frowning. Maybe he needs more sunshine in the mornings and some sugar in that coffee.
Hours pass. Charlie comes and goes, being his awesome self.
The man who ate hours ago still sits at the counter. I have filled his water and coffee more times than I can count. I figured he’d be gone by now, but he’s found his perch. Hot damn, he is about to be Carrie’s problem, as she walks through the door. I am beyond tired and ready to get out of here.
My double shift was a killer yesterday, and I really need sleep. A shower sounds good too, but my feet are about ready to fall off. I’ll cross that bridge of deciding when I get the heck out of here.
“Hey, girl,” I greet as she approaches. “Cashed out and ready.”
“Give me ten to put my bag in the back and go pee,” she responds, moving quickly behind the doors to the small employee room. The relief I feel almost knocks me to my knees. Carrie is a single mom and can only work limited shifts, and she isn’t always reliable to show up. I don’t know if I could have handled working until we close tonight.
“Miss.” The guy from the counter calls, and I grab the coffee pot instinctually, moving to him.
“Coffee?” I ask, but he shakes his head.
“Naw, thank you. Was hopin’ you could give me a lift to the next town.”
Flabbergasted, I remain in place. This man has to be out of his mind. I might’ve gotten him a meal, but to get in a car with him? No, that isn’t happening.
“Sorry, I can’t.”
His face falls at my words, and it is in such a way that I catch my breath as every part of me goes on high alert.
“Come on. I’ve been walking a long time. Help a man out. Besides, it's Christmas time.”
Have to give it to him, he’s trying, but I take a step back, the danger warning signs blaring as he rises from the stool, towering over me. I can’t explain it, but there is a shift, and I believe in following my gut, which is telling me this man is going to be trouble.
The last of the customers have just left, leaving the floor empty. Gilbert is behind the grill, cleaning. Carrie is in the bathroom and me, I’m stuck with this man. Yeah. Never in my years here have I had this situation ever happen. I’ve always felt safe. This moment? Not so much.
“Quick ride and I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
He thinks he’s charming. He’s not. The more he speaks, the more the hair on my arms stands up. I need to go home. Maybe it’s the fatigue, but I’m uneasy, to say the least.
Calmly, I respond, “Sir, it’s time for you to go now. I’m not giving you a ride.” Eyeing the counter, I take a step closer to it as he edges around, coming toward me.
“Sir. You need to stop.” My heart picks up speed. Where the hell is Carrie? Will Gilbert hear me over the noises back there? It doesn’t matter. I always have to depend on myself. This will be no different.
He lunges. There is a split second where I see the flash of the silver blade, but I can’t be sure what I see. Instincts take over and I grab for the gun from under the counter. This is Texas after all, and we love our firearms.
Pop! Pop!
I fire off multiple rounds and hit him directly in the chest several times. As he falls to the ground, I move to jump out of the way of the blood. The room spins. Did I really shoot a man? I didn’t think, I reacted. I don’t see the knife I thought I saw. Did I kill him? For no reason?
Everything happens so fast.
The chime on the door rings, and before I can wrap my brain around everything, Massimo Mysterious is by my side, looking me over. He has on black gloves and has something in his hand.
He leans in, murmuring into my ear, “The knife will only have his prints on it. He came at you. You were scared and you shot. That’s all you tell them when they come.”
Oh my God! I killed this man.
Massimo kneels down, places the knife in the man’s hand, and then, like a puff of smoke… he’s gone.
Carrie comes running out of the doorway with Gilbert following her. Both of their mouths drop open as they witness the man lying there in a pool of blood.
What am I supposed to do next?