That thought is like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. Anyone else comes in, they’re likely to kill her to make things easier.
I’m the only one who can do this without an unnecessary body count. That’s why I get paid the big money. I get the job done with no collateral damage. Clean, precise. The only way it works is if I don’t get attached to anything.
I’m going to leave. Get on with the job. Tell him she deserves to live. She’ll be no danger to the famiglia.
I turn to take one final look at her through the door. Might as well drink her in while I can. Pure innocence in a black dress that suits her figure perfectly. No need to overdress when you look that good.
She’s awkward in a way that does something to me. Telling me we’d have to marry when I stopped her from falling into my balls. I was almost laughing before I caught hold of myself.
How long’s it been since I laughed at anything? Twenty years, at least. One minute with her and she’s almost cracked me wide open. Nothing good can come of it.
I look through the glass of the door. To the left, near the bathroom, there she is, sitting alone, eating alone. I want to join her with every fiber of my being. Hell, what I want is to rip her clothes off and see what noises she makes when she comes. But I’m not going in. I’m taking one last look.
I see something she hasn’t while I watch her. That’s my curse. I notice shit no one else does.
A guy’s walking past her table. He half-stumbles when he gets to her and his hand goes straight into her handbag. He brings out her purse and it’s inside his jacket before he’s even upright. He carries on toward the bathroom, swerving at the last minute, coming toward the exit.
Not my problem.
I don’t need to get involved. My part in her future is over. I saved her once. I don’t need to do it again. She can get by on her own in life, the same as the rest of us.
That was just a simple theft just now. Nothing to do with me. Doesn’t have an impact on my job. Unless one of the other families sent him.
He’s pulling the door open. He takes a look at me. “What?” he asks. “You a cop or something?”
I step aside. “Thought not,” he says with a smirk as he heads over to a beat-up black jalopy up the curb on the edge of the parking lot.
I let him reach the car. He swings the door open and thinks he’s going to climb in but I grab hold of him before he can get there.
“What the fuck, man?” he says as he tries to get out of my grip. “Get off of me.” I can tell at once he’s not from one of the families. He’s a simple street thief. Low level, running solo. No threat to me or her.
I slam the door shut on his arm. He tries to scream but I’ve already got a hand over his mouth. From grabbing him to now has taken all of five seconds.
“The purse,” I snarl in his ear. “Hand it over or I’ll snap your fucking wrist.”
He looks at me, his eyes bulging, the pain making them water. I lift my hand from his mouth and he tries to deny what he’s done. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. You’re a fucking psycho, get off of me.”
I toss him down to the ground. He starts rolling around, holding his arm like he thinks it might fall off. “You broke it,” he says, groaning up at me. “You broke my damn arm.”
“If I wanted it broken,” I tell him, “it would be.” I lift him up by his jacket lapels, hurling him into the side of the car, leaving a decent-sized dent as he slides to the ground. “Will be more than broken if you don’t give me the purse.” I raise my fist, itching for an excuse to take out a couple of his teeth. “Might have to rip it out of the socket.”
“All right,” he pleads, both hands out in front of him. “Here.” He reaches into his jacket, pulling out the purse, and handing it to me. “Jeez, what are you, like her dad or something?”
I take it from him. It’s dyed red leather, not much cash in it by the looks of things. “Why her?” I ask, grabbing him by the collar, holding him up against his car. I better check I’m right about him. “Who sent you?”
“No one sent me,” he replies, his eyes bulging with fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“All those purses in there. Why’d you pick hers?”
“Because her handbag was open and she was distracted. Shit man, I would never have done it if I’d known you were watching out for her.”
“That’s evident.” I let go of him.
He falls into a heap, scrambling upright and holding both hands up in front of him. “Please,” he begs. “No more, all right. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you. Do you want money, man? I can get you money. Drugs? You name it, I’ll get it for you.”
“Get the fuck out of here,” I tell him. “I see you near her again, I’ll rip out your intestines while you watch.”
He climbs into the car like a cockroach heading for the dark, skittering around, all limbs flailing. He stalls it twice, looking at me the whole time. “Fucking psycho,” he says as the engine finally starts.