The Mafia's: Bodyguards Redemption

Two: Mater

Mater

Two: Antonio

Kneeling down, I search the inside of the tracer’s suit pockets. Pulling out his billfold, I search it. No ID, no credit cards. I check all the pockets and find a folded piece of paper that has a phone number on it, nothing else. Opening the pocket where the bills are put. I find two grand in hundred-dollar bills. I fold the bills up and put them into my pocket. After all I am unemployed now with no access to my cash at the moment. I let out a sigh as I pull my throwing knife out of the tracer’s chest. I wipe it off on him then pull out the small bottle of bleach. Using my headkerchief I pour the bleach onto my knife, scrubbing it with the cloth. Cleanliness is mandatory while the blood is wet. Leaving no trace of blood on my weapon. I clean it toughly. With that done I put my knife back into its sheath as I stand up.

I turn and see the woman lying on the ground. Approaching her making sure to keep all my senses open. I have never seen this woman before in my life. I glance around my surroundings but sense nothing out of the ordinary. I crouch down and take a good look at the woman on the ground. She has long dark red hair covering her face. I lightly brush her hair off of her face. Feeling the warmth coming off her body has my breath hitching and catching in my chest making me feel odd.

The first look at her face with her milky white skin, small button nose, wide eyes. All showing her Sicilian Ancestry. Her red hair and eyebrows showing the genetic link to the Normans who liberated Sicily from the Islamic rulers back in history. Her bow mouth catches my attention, I feel something in my gut reaching out to the stranger. I push it down as I search her pockets. She has no pocketbook with her and nothing in her pockets. Frowning at the twenty dollars in my hand. That is the only thing she has on her body besides the blue jeans and a white T-shirt.

*Sh*t what am I going to do with this woman. I can’t leave her here. * Glancing around a sigh leaves my lips. I really don’t have time to deal with this. Sliding my arms under this unknown woman I lift her up into my arms. I frown as she naturally cuddles into my arms. I don’t know how to feel about it, ignoring the feelings I walk out of the alleyway. No one pays me any attention as I am holding a passed-out woman in my arms, New York the place for crime. I hail a taxi opening the door to the first one that stops. “Mister, I’m off duty.” I hear him say as I settle inside with the woman still in my arms. Digging in my pocket and throw three of the one-hundred-dollar bills at him. “The Travers on Dutch in Harlem.” I say as he grunts.

I close my eyes and relax my body. That is until I feel the prickling sensation of someone staring at me. I open my eyes to find the driver staring at me in the rearview mirror. He must not have liked my expression as he diverts his gaze. Noticing not twenty minutes later that we are pulling up outside of Travers bar and grill. I throw three more hundred dollars at the driver. “You never saw us.” My gravelly voice comes out making the driver shiver. I don’t like to talk; I only talk when I have to. My voice was damaged when I was little due to an illness. Not only that but my stoic personality is a major factor. As my words piss people off. I just don’t want to deal with other’s daftness.

Before I get out of the cab, I notice the dash cam that is pointing my way. It is one of the ones that has a memory card. Reaching through the little window I tear the camera off the dash taking it with me as I open the door. The cabby stares after me. His mouth hanging open as I get out of the car slamming the door shut. Striding into the alleyway leading to the back of the bar. Before I turn the corner at the end, I look around making sure no one is paying attention to me. I make it to the door and knock five times, pause, then three more.

It took a couple of minutes before I hear the chain and deadbolt being disengaged the doorknob turns. As the rail thin form of the one person that I trust the most looks up into my eyes while tears fill them “Mater” I say as I bow my head to her. The gasp as she looks at me backing up. “Come, come.” She motions me inside. Once inside, I turn to look at her as she pops her head out the door looking around then closing the door quickly. Locking it up tight as she looks at me with a frown. “Why are you here, fili mi fili mi?” I look down to the woman in my arms. Feeling the nervous energy coming off my adoptive mother. The only mother I have ever known. “Come bring her.”

*“Fili mi fili mi” Is Latin for “My son my child” *

*"Mater" Is Latin for "Mother"*