Page 4 of Dima's Vision
I lean to the side, over the railing to see what might await me in that direction. There’s a door to what looks like an old walk-in freezer, those big ones you see in restaurants. My head throbs in time with my heart beat, my vision hazy as I’m met with more than one little girl on a filthy mattress in a dark room. Blinking to clear my vision, I look at the old woman in the rocking chair, nodding once.
Moving silently down the front steps I move to walk past her porch before stopping, making eye contact with her once again. “If you knew they were there, why didn’t you call someone?”
“Why I gonna do dat, when I knew you was comin’ to handle de problem?” She peers at me with her black eyes. “You gon’ handle him, yeah?”
“Da,I’ll handle him.”
“Course you is.” With a dismissive wave she turns back to watch the street, rocking without a care in the world.
Shaking my head I make my way to the freezer, the thing having seen better times. It’s rusted in places, probably from where the flood waters sat stagnant for a period of time. I make quick work of the crappy padlock, gently peeling the doors open, letting in a little light.
“Hello? My name is Dima. I’ve come to help you,” I call softly as I make my way in.
Whimpers reach my ears and I blink my eyes, trying to hurry them to adjust. My heart lurches at the sight and I have to tamp down the pure rage bubbling up from my depths. The last little girl I found, the one Lexi had a lead on, was taken by her estranged grandmother. She was cared for, loved, clean and fed.These three little girls have tear streaked faces, matted hair and bruises and blood on their tiny bodies.
“I’m here to take you home.” As the words leave my mouth the little girl in the center of the three hobbles toward me, throwing herself into my arms, the other two following her lead moments later.
Wrapping them in my arms I carry them out into the sunshine, the fresh air, and away from the nightmare they have endured. I swiftly move down the side of the house, making my way to my vehicle to get these little angels to safety.
“Witch, ya woman waitin’ for ya to find her. Best not keep her, non?”
I dip my chin in acknowledgement. My woman will have to wait until I have these kids safe and sound, and their monster gone.
La Madrina
“Ah, Lucia, little cousin, how are you?” Giuseppe wraps his doughy moist hands around my upper arms and drops wet kisses to both of my cheeks.
“Giuseppe, good to see you cousin.” My forced grin hiding my absolute disdain and hatred for the fat fuck.
If I didn’t have to check on business in the factory he runs I would never socialise with him. I’m sure he’s one of the men on the list wanting rid of me. Good thing I know he doesn’t possess the balls to do it.
“Do you want any refreshments before we take the tour?” Giuseppe raises a thick brow toward his nonexistent hairline, and I thank god yet again that I take after my mother.
“No, thank you, cousin. I have a busy schedule. Let’s take a look at the factory floor.”
“As you wish, Lu.”
I bite my tongue trying not to snap at him. “Lucia or La Madrina if you prefer.” I smile sweetly knowing full well that no, he would not prefer.
“Lucia,” he sneers through a smile. I roll my lips between my teeth trying not to laugh as we play the game of friendly cousins and not would-be rivals if one of us had bigger balls. Hint: not me.
I follow as he waddles ahead of me, waving at this and that. Whining about which machines need more investment to have them running at their full potential. I don’t know how many times I’ve told him that we don’t need to be making money from the sugar we refine. I mean, sure, it’s good to line our pockets, but we really only need it to launder our money and a way to transport the drugs my family distributes. I know all about the business we own and I know exactly how all these machines run. I also know that Giuseppe is full of shit when he says the machines need upgrading. The only thing investment money will upgrade is his hairline.
A standard cell phone ring tone echoes through the factory, bouncing off the walls as Giuseppe holds his fat stubby finger up, asking me to wait a moment while he answers it. I make a show of glancing at my watch then turn my back to him, walking down the aisle to check on the machinery. I check the dials and knobs, all the while listening in on my dear cousin’s call. He’s switched to hissing in Italian, his pitch getting higher as he argues with his hitman. Yes, Giuseppe, the overweight, balding son of my father’s brother is talking to the very person he contracted tokill me. Rolling my eyes I slip my hand into my luxury purse to retrieve my phone. I quickly flick a message to La Strega, giving her my location and a terrible boomer angled Facebook profile photo of my cousin so she knows which fat, white guy to kill at the factory.
Almost immediately she sends back a thumbs up, then a tongue, peach emoji and water droplets. I roll my lips between my teeth, shaking my head, only to catch my eye on a large, balding man with rapist glasses staring at me from the walkway above. If he’s going to stare at me, I’ll stare right back. Into his soul. You don’t get to my position in the Family without being able to look deep into a person and see not only what they most desire, but whether there’s a part of them I can exploit for my own gain.
He shuffles in place a little, his meaty hands curling into fists and if I wasn’t watching him so intently I’d almost miss the shadow moving to his right. Blinking, my eyes dart to his right once again, trying to find movement, figure out if he’s alone or not, and yet whoever, or whatever was there is now gone.
“Lucia?” Giuseppe’s fake jovial voice breaks my stare down with the creep upstairs, and probably for the best. “Ah, there you are! Right next to the machine and vat I needed to talk to you about.”
Focusing on Giuseppe and his smarmy grin I paste a bored look on my face. “Giuseppe, you know as well I do there is nothing wrong with this equipment. Now, if you wanted a hair transplant all you had to do was ask for it.” I smile sweetly.
“You little bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” He spits, taking a step toward me and freezing with this foot mid-air.
“Ty tak s ney ne razgovarivay.”
My breath catches and eyes widen as a tall, blonde man with piercing blue eyes steps out of the shadows behind my cousin, a gun trained on him.
