Page 24 of Kingpin

“This is incredible, Israel. Why don’t you tell people you do all of this?”

He shrugged. “What’s the point of doing good if all you’re going to do is brag about it? It seems counterintuitive to me.”

I felt my soul warm to him a little more.

Eventually, we pulled up to his warehouse, and I slid out with him. I shook the hands of some of the workers who had pledged their life and loyalty to Israel, and in exchange, I got to take a look at what they did. The things they shipped in and out. How their processes worked. I got to learn real-life stories about the real-life families Israel took care of and protected. A clause that was wrapped up into every single contract for his employees. In exchange for their services and constant on-call status, he provided free protection services as well as a monumental amount of paid time off.

It was hard for me to look at Israel as a villain after learning all of that.

“So, what’s for lunch?” I asked.

Israel started flipping through a file folder. “Hmm?”

“Lunch? It’s well past one. Have you or any of the workers eaten?”

“Mandatory lunch is at noon for them.”

“And what about mandatory lunch for you?”

He waved his hand in the air. “I’ll be fine.”

“Israel.”

He shot me a look. “Thoman—my assistant—is out front. If you’re hungry, go place an order with him. He’ll get you anything you want in the city.”

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?”

Israel went back to his folder instead of answering my question. So, I decided to get him something anyway. Just in case he changed his mind. While he had been a bit aloof since we’d gotten to the warehouse, I certainly didn’t feel like a burden. That was more than I could say for some of the times living with Uncle Pava. I made my way out of his office and found a pale, spindly man sitting at the front desk. He smiled at me as he looked up, and he stood quickly. Ready to jump whenever I told him how high.

“What can I do for you, Mrs. Rossi?”

I smiled. “I’m actually getting a bit hungry. I thought about ordering something for my husband, too. Do you know what he enjoys for lunch?”

Thoman opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Instead, I heard gunfire outside before something slammed against metal. Another gunshot rang out, impacting the metal outside of the warehouse again. I spun around and peered through the small window of the front door.

There were men with assault rifles dashing across the parking lot.

“Israel!” I exclaimed.

Thoman took my hand. “Come with me.”

He tugged me away from the front door as gunfire rang out as quick as rain. Thundering bullets caved in the outer metal walls as we ventured back into the maze of the warehouse hallways. Tears filled my eyes. Thoman kept tugging me along, even as I tripped in my heels, and just as we came to a massive metal door, he whipped around to look at me.

“Do you know how to shoot?” he asked.

“Brianna!”

Israel’s voice boomed down the hallway as Thoman pressed a gun into the palm of my hand. A tear streaked down my face as my husband came sprinting toward me. He scooped me up into his arms, carrying me away from Thoman. As I clutched the gun close to my chest, the barrage of gunfire continued to rain down upon us.

Then a door crashed open.

“Israel, what do we do?” I asked.

He grunted. “Shut up and do as I ask.”

“I don’t understand. I was just—”

“I said, shut up, Brianna!”

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