How To Own A Mafia Boss

Chapter 8: The Angel You Can Name

AJ'S POV

For the rest of the week till he's discharged and moved into my house, all I can think about is his last sentence.

"Let's just say that this angel fell."

What did that mean? I think he's got his theology wrong, because it was Lucifer, the angel that fell from heaven, not Azrael. I know, I've checked. Who is he? It will do no good searching for Azrael on the internet without his last name.

Though, if I check 'Azrael' with some tags that show relation to a missing person, maybe something will show up? I quickly type out the combination that comes to mind. All that Google brings back is some ancient mythology and Hebrew words.

Maybe it's wrong to search for it? I should trust and wait for him to tell me himself, right? No, I wanted to see for myself that he's not going to bring danger to me, but I didn't find anything.

"Hold him here, put your hand in, Goliath. DeBraun, help him!"

Sometimes, I hear lots of bickering like that coming from his room. Courtesy of DeBraun, DeAndre, and Simone. Four of them are now friends and come to report progress to me, even though the stranger 'never says anything' to them. (DeAndre's words.)

Simone has taken to the stranger quite well this past week. She wheels him around and reads to him from books she brings from the library. She takes food up for him and bathes him with attention, till he 'began to push the wheelchair around himself to escape her' (DeBraun's words), and the 'weak pallor slowly recedes to reveal a healthy skin'. (Simone's words, spoken with a dreamy smile)

She has taken to calling him S, a supposedly creative acronym for 'stranger'. I deadpan and ignore her when she makes the announcement, and she tells me to stop being an old lady. "Well, what are we going to call him?" she retorts, and goes up to read him a book.

DeBraun and DeAndre come every morning and evening to assist him with his baths, and return to reveal improvements. "Goliath held his own brush today…"–"Goliath washed his hair himself today." At least, they're a little more creative with naming the stranger.

Joe has dropped in two times this week to check on him, and he tells me the stranger will be back to himself in no time.

We actually do have to name him, though.

So after closing up Deónne's later today, dead on my f*cking feet, I trudge to his bedroom and knock. I don't receive an answer for a while, so I peek in.

I catch a hint of surprise in his eyes. "AJ. I didn't know it was you."

Of course, he didn't. This is the first time I've visited this room since he was moved in here. I settle in the chair beside the bed he's lying on, suddenly feeling terrible. I've not been able to come check up on him between work and not wanting to make him feel overwhelmed since Simone and the twins are enough company.

Silver eyes are holding mine very much like that day in the hospital. He's gauging, waiting for my play.

I'm suddenly at loss for what to say. "I'm sorry I've not been coming to see you."

He stays completely still for some seconds, then, "You don't owe me anything, AJ."

I remember the twins say he never talks to them. He seems to have no problem doing it with me, though.

"Do you like it here?" If he says no, there are still extra rooms in the big house that he can use. This place is full of Quentin's workout equipment and football junk. I'd completely understand if the stranger didn't want to be here.

He stares. "I'm encroaching on your hospitality, and you worry that I don't like this place?"

It's disbelief I hear in his tone, as if my audacity is astounding.

"It's not a problem. I can work something out if you don't like it here."

"Why?"

"What?"

He looks right at me. "Why are you doing this? Hell, why did you save me in the first place?"

Confusion courses through me. "What else would anyone do in this situation? Leave you to die? Or after helping you, leave you by yourself in the hospital? I did what any other person would have."

"I can't believe someone as good as you are has existed all this while and — what do you hope to gain from this?"

"What?"

"This is too. . ." Suspicious. That's what he's going to say. Was it a mistake to come here this night? Because I really don't have it in me to defend myself from the nefarious activities he's about to accuse me of.

But he doesn't. He just looks at me, and something clears in his face. "Jesus, it's true. You just have a good heart."

That's where I draw the line. "Just because I'm capable of being a decent human doesn't mean I have a good heart. And you don't know me."

He's silent. Everything I just said means nothing to him, because he has decided on a conclusion.

My frown deepens, noticing some things against my will. His skin is really getting better. His eyes still have that gaunt quality, but they have more life in them. We sit in silence for a few seconds, as I try to remember why I'm up here in the first instance.

He speaks before I can. "I'm sorry for all of this. Making myself a nuisance. Having you pay for all my bills. As soon as I regain my strength, I'll work and pay you back."

I stand. Sit next to him on the bed and grip his hand in both of mine. If he notices my odd behavior, he doesn't show it. He keeps speaking. "You can't tell how grateful I am to you. For everything, AJ."

"Don't think, even for one second, that I'm going to accept anything it is you're planning to do. You don't owe me anything." I squeeze the hand. "You're my friend now." I try to summon a grin and surprisingly, it works. "I'll do anything for my friend."

I know what I'm doing. I'm reassuring him, because of course, I understand. Someone tried to kill him and almost succeeded. I'd be wary of the random woman that seems to be nice for no reason, too. But I'm also reassuring myself that he's human like me. He's scared. He's grateful. He's hurting and careful.

Even though he looks at me like those translucent eyes could fish out all my secrets in seconds. Even though his will was strong enough to save him when even I gave up on him that day in the ocean. He's just human.

And just for that, I'll believe he didn't deserve the brutal way those people tried to kill him.

He nods at me, looking somewhat stricken, as if he just made the same realization I did. I smile again as I release his hand and go back to my seat. "How would you like to be called Jason?"

He nods without thinking twice. "If that's what you want."