The streetlamps had this muted yellow glow to them and bathed the cracked and old sidewalk in the light. The sound of another bottle breaking came in the distance behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. She should have gotten a ride home with her friend, but the booze had been going through her bloodstream, and she had walked this path a million times.
He might be a dangerous and violent man, and do things that were illegal and unconventional, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that for a fact. Marra had even heard talk about how Joey and a few of his guys had made someone “disappear” after they had found out he had raped a young woman in town. They were ruthless no doubt, but they protected this town, and as long as the people in it didn’t fuck with them, they protected them, too.
The street suddenly got so quiet, and she wrapped her light jacket around herself and walked faster. The alcohol was still moving hard through her, and it felt like with every pump of her heart the liquor was moving fast and fierce through her veins. The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement seemed too damn loud, and then she heard it. Stopping and spinning around, she scanned the street behind her. Everything was so still and silent all of a sudden, but then the sound of someone whistling came through like an ominous beast.
She might have only been a few blocks from her apartment, and she most definitely should have had her girlfriend or a taxi take her home, but right now all she could picture in her head was being the next rape victim in a very sad story. Bourbon was a safe town because of the Bacelli crew, and as much as she hated to admit that, hated to even think that a group of mobsters made sure everyone was okay, it was the truth. She saw a few businesses up ahead with their neon lights still on, but this was the edge of town, and because of that it was a bit rougher.
She wasn’t about to go into the only strip club in Bourbon, the one that she knew was part of the Bacelli fortune. And she wasn’t about to go into the bar that was also run by Joey and his men. God, this town was run by them, was controlled by them, and she couldn’t turn around without seeing something that belonged to Joey and the Bacelli crime family.
Her heart thundered in her ribs, and she knew she shouldn’t have ever come here, shouldn’t have set down some kind of roots, but then again what else was she supposed to do? Relocate again because she couldn’t handle the feelings she had for a very bad man?
Tightening her hands on her jacket, she turned back around and increased her speed. She saw her apartment building across the street, the dim streetlight lamps casting that disgusting muted yellow glow on the brown brick old-ass building. She looked both ways before crossing the street, and started walking faster when she heard the low whistles of a man close behind her. Marra reached into her purse and searched for her pepper spray.
The bar with the neon OPEN sign in the front window beckoned her. She knew she’d much rather chance a bunch of drunks and bikers than deal with some would-be rapist that thought she was an easy target. When she walked past the alleyway between the bar and another building, one where the light didn’t penetrate, the sound of a deep male voice had her stopping and glancing over.
She couldn’t see anything, but the sound of footsteps coming closer to her had her turning and holding the pepper spray out in front of her. There was a man a few feet back, dressed like he had been sleeping under a bridge for a year, and even the scent of his stench came at her like a wrecking ball.
“You sure are pretty,” he said in a low whisper, and took a step closer. She moved one back, kept her focus on him, and the spray in front of her.
Before she could say anything, or run for that matter, voices from the alleyway came through.
“I didn’t tell them anything. They don’t know that I’ve been talking to you.” The clearly frightened and frantic male voice had her squinting into the darkness, but then she snapped her gaze back toward the man that had been advancing on her. The sound of the gun cocking had him stopping, and as if that was all he needed to get the fuck going, he glanced at the alleyway, and then turned and walked away from her.
“I’d like to believe you, Mario, but there is talk that the Bacellis know you’ve been running your mouth.”
The other man started crying hard, wracking sobs, and Marra knew she should turn and leave, but she was frozen to the spot. The darkness started to fade as her vision cleared. She could see two people, one of them pushed against the brick wall as the other guy held a gun to his head. She thought she might pass out from the endorphins moving through her.
“Please, God, Phil, please don’t do this.”
“Tony wants loose ends tied up, and since Michael was clipped, you’re the next to go. Besides, you didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”
“I need more time. Just give me more time.”
“Sorry, but time is not something that I have to offer. You didn’t get us the information on the money and how to get into the heart of the Bacelli crew, and Carlos is tired of waiting.”
The other man was crying harder now and starting to mumble incoherent words. “My wife. God, just let her go.”
The man holding the gun started to chuckle. “Mario, your sweet wife is now Carlos’ whore. She might have been innocent in your involvement in ratting out your own fucking crew, but Carlos will dirty her right up.”
And then the sound of a gun going off filled her head, had her ears ringing, and had her stumbling back. She fell over the curb, landed on her ass, and felt her wrist twist painfully as she landed on it wrong. But Marra held in her cry, especially when the man that had just been shot fell to the ground in a slump of lifeless bones and flesh, and the killer turned and faced her.
The shadows passed along his face, concealing who he was, but the closer he stepped toward her, the more she scrambled back. Her voice was lodged in her throat, and the pain from her hurt wrist speared right up her arm.
He stepped out of the alleyway, glanced left and then right, and then looked down at her. He bent on his haunches, and she swore she could smell the murderous intent coming off of him. The fact he stared right into her eyes, allowed her to see his face, and knew she had seen him kill someone, told her she was not going to make it out of this alive.
“I have to assume that from your expression you saw what I just did?”
She swallowed but didn’t answer.
“And you have to assume how I have to handle that.” He tsked and reached out with his gun to pick up a strand of her hair off her shoulder. “Such a shame, too, because you are pretty fucking hot.” And then he grabbed her wrist, hauled her up, and pulled her back toward the alleyway.
“No, no, no,” she repeated over and over again, and then realization dawned on her. He slammed her against the brick wall, and she held the small can of pepper spray, lifted it, and sprayed it right in his eyes.
He howled in pain, and she turned to run off, but he snatched her hair, and yanked her back hard enough that she slammed against the ground. The air left her, pain coursed through her skull, and the pepper spray rolled away.
The scent of blood filled her nose, and she turned her head to see the lifeless, dark eyes of a corpse staring right at her. She screamed, finally finding her voice, and tried to stand. But blood coated the ground beneath her, her head and wrist roared out in agony, and fear made her feeling lightheaded.