Page 9 of Protecting Charity

“You were the last to see him, and now you are high as the fucking Empire State Building. Let’s try to explain this a little better, Ethan.”

I bunched my hands into his shirt and drew him up like a rag doll. He was a skinny man, right down to skin and bones. It was what having a drug habit would do to you. It took very little effort to shove him against the wall. Bouncing the back of his head against the glass mirror, I watched the blood dribble down as spiderwebs of glass fell to the ground.

Ethan’s face turned ashen-white when he realized I knew his filthy little secret. I’ve always known, but I gave him a pass, letting him stick around because he always did his job and never skimmed. But now, his luck had run out. I would be bad at my job if I couldn’t recognize a user when I saw one.

I raised my fist, and he shrunk away from me as much as he could, putting his hands in front of his face to block the imminent blow. “He took off.”

“Gee, Ethan. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“He said he wanted to start up on his own and took the product. That’s all I know. I swear it.”

I released him, and he collapsed to the floor in a pile of shaking bones and blood. “You’re out, Ethan. You know what that means? You’re a liability now.”

He kept his eyes downcast as his shoulders shook from his sobs. It was never a pleasant moment when people realized they were breathing their last breaths. There was pleading and wailing like banshees, and I couldn’t deal with that like Charity did.

Ethan nodded, acknowledging my question. Maybe he would be the exception, and he wouldn’t be a hassle.

I pulled out my Glock and twisted my silencer into place. “I wish it didn’t have to be like this. You were good before you let your addiction get the best of you.” I pressed the gun to his temple and waited for him to become like all the rest. When he didn’t move away or make a noise, I stepped back and pulled the trigger with a muffled boom. Particles of brain and blood splattered across the floor, where he slumped over with a thud.

Charity would have taken care of it with more finesse, but I preferred straight and to the point. She enjoyed chatting to them after the fact. It was a weird quirk of hers.

My phone buzzed as I put my pistol back in place.

Charity: She hasn’t been found yet.

Assuming she was talking about Morgan, I put my phone back in my pocket and resumed cleaning the useless mess. Even though we were in the middle of BFE, I still couldn’t take the chance of a crime scene being found.

Grabbing Ethan by his feet, I dragged his bloody body to the tarp then bundled him up nice and tight. The floor of the old farmhouse groaned loud and unrelenting as I carried him outside to a pre-dug grave where I dropped him inside, then shoveled large chunks of earth over his face

Halfway through and so much more to go, my phone pinged again.

Charity: Someone is in my home.

A heaviness settled in my stomach, causing a nauseous burn to twist my guts.

I knew she could look after herself, but that didn’t stop the sheer terror from sinking its claws into my chest and tearing as I thought about losing her. I already went through that once a few weeks ago, I can’t do it again.

She likes to think she is at the top of her game again, but we know she is still recuperating. I know, just like the others, that she can put up a front just as good as any of us. She’s strong and fierce. It’s why we can’t get enough of her. No one has ever adapted so seamlessly into our world with little to no effort. She was made for this—made for us.

Me: I’m on my way. Wait for me.

I shoveled faster, creating the sloppiest burial in mafia history, then threw a dandelion on his grave for good measure. He didn’t deserve it in the eyes of the family, but we once respected him, just like Josh.

Josh ran with Vito for a while when they were teens. When an opportunity arose for him to become a made-man, he accepted and took it by the balls. But life caught up with him fast, and he became another Ethan—tasting the product and finally becoming unreliable. If Charity hadn’t shown up that night, she would have found him dead with more than just a bullet to the head.

We were all surprised when she pleaded to take over for him to save his life. She literally threw her body over the top of him, thinking she could shield his body from the bullet with his name on it. Luca and Uncle Turo were so impressed by her fearlessness that they took the chance on her and never looked back.

Has she caused problems and upset some members? Yes. But what person didn’t? Everyone was a pain in the ass to Luca. Hell, even I have my moments with him.

I threw my shovel into the trunk of my car and took off toward her house, pushing my Cadillac to its limits. My heart beat tirelessly against my chest as I drove like a crazed man with nothing to live for. I swerved in and out of traffic and rode the ass off a prick that wouldn’t move out of the fast lane while blaring my horn. I knew she’d go in without backup, and that was what frightened me the most. Sometimes, she had this chip of invincibility on her shoulders, and it always got her into trouble—trouble that I tried to keep her out of.

Pulling in behind her car with a screech of my tires, I clutched my gun and made my way up to the gaping front door. It was as silent as the dead; not even Cannoli made a noise. I closed the door so no one could escape behind us, then crept around looking for signs of disorder or life. There was nothing. Just dead air and the sound of my breathing. Terrible dark thoughts tormented my mind, causing me to shudder. I couldn’t find her in a puddle of her blood like we did before.

Tip-toeing farther into her house, I found my way into her bedroom to find her back towards me, her gun drawn, and her head peeking around the corner into her bathroom.

This could end one of two ways; one, I startle her, and she shoots me dead, or two, she realizes it’s me before she can pull the trigger. I didn’t like these odds. My heart never stopped its onslaught against my chest as I rounded the corner and whispered, “Charity.”

She turned her face toward me with her wide, doe-like eyes. Her tense shoulders sagged with relief at the sight of me. I blew out the breath I was holding and stomped towards her. “This was the last room to clear. No one is here,” she said.

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