Chapter 2 - Five Men in BlackMina did not lower the coffee pot.
Then a bleeding woman stumbled through the front door.
Mina looked up from the espresso machine just as the bell above the glass door gave a weak little jingle.
The woman was somewhere in her late fifties, maybe early sixties. Her silver-blonde hair had come loose from an elegant twist, rainwater streaked down her face, and one side of her cream-colored jacket was dark with blood.
She locked eyes with Mina.
“Please.”
The word barely came out.
Mina dropped the towel in her hand.
“Oh my God.”
The woman caught herself against a table.
“Don’t call the police.”
Mina froze.
Outside, headlights swept across the rain-soaked windows.
A black SUV rolled slowly past the café.
The woman looked toward it, and every bit of color left her face.
“Please don’t let them find me.”
Mina didn’t know who “they” were.
She didn’t know why a woman dressed in clothes that probably cost more than Mina made in three months was bleeding in her nearly empty café.
She only knew terror when she saw it.
“Back room,” Mina whispered.
The woman stared at her.
“Now.”
Mina came around the counter and hooked one arm around the stranger’s waist.
Warm blood immediately soaked through Mina’s sleeve.
The lone customer, an exhausted delivery driver named Carl, had fallen asleep over his coffee ten minutes earlier.
“Carl.”
He jerked awake.
“What?”
“Go home.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing you want to be part of.”
That did it.
Carl threw cash on the table and hurried out through the side entrance.
Mina half-carried the injured woman into the storage room behind the kitchen.
The woman gasped as Mina lowered her onto a crate of bottled water.
“Where are you hurt?”
“Shoulder.”
Mina peeled back the torn fabric.
A deep cut ran beneath the woman’s collarbone.
Not a gunshot.
Thank God.
Mina grabbed the first-aid kit.
“How did this happen?”
The woman’s eyes lifted sharply.
“You don’t want to know.”
“People always say that right before making me want to know.”
Despite herself, the woman gave a breathless laugh.
Then someone pounded on the café door.
Mina’s stomach dropped.
Three hard knocks.
Not the knock of someone looking for coffee.
A man’s voice called through the glass.
“Open up.”
The stranger seized Mina’s wrist.
“Do not.”
Another knock.
“We’re looking for a woman.”
Mina whispered, “Are they police?”
“No.”
“Did you do something?”
“No.”
Mina studied her face.
There was fear there.
But something else too.
Authority.
The kind of confidence that didn’t disappear even when blood was soaking through your clothes.
“Who are you?”
The woman hesitated.
“Evelyn.”
“Last name?”
Another pounding at the door.
“Mina!”
The young waitress nearly jumped.
“How do you know my name?”
Evelyn nodded toward the employee badge pinned to her apron.
“Oh.”
“Open the door!”
Mina moved toward the kitchen.
Evelyn caught her sleeve.
“They cannot see me.”
Mina pulled a heavy shelf away from the rear wall.
Behind it was the narrow door to an old pantry the landlord had stopped using years ago.
“Get inside.”
Evelyn stared.
“That’s your plan?”
“It’s two in the morning, I make nine dollars an hour, and I have exactly zero hostage-rescue training. Get inside.”
For the first time, the older woman smiled.
Then she disappeared behind the pantry door.
Mina shoved the shelf back.
She wiped the blood from her arm, threw the stained towel beneath a sink, and walked out front.
Two men stood beneath the awning.
Dark coats.
Hard expressions.
One had a cut above his eyebrow.
Mina unlocked the door but kept the chain on.
“We’re closed.”
“We saw a woman come in.”
“No.”
“She was wearing a cream jacket.”
“Still no.”
The taller man leaned closer.
“You sure?”
Mina looked him straight in the eye.
“I’ve been working fourteen hours. I’m sure I would notice a bleeding grandma running through my restaurant.”
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
“Grandma?”
“You said older woman.”
“I didn’t.”
Mina’s heartbeat kicked.
The man smiled without warmth.
“Open the door.”
“No.”
“We only want to talk.”
“Then talk from there.”
The second man looked past her.
Mina realized he was studying the floor.
A single red drop lay near the counter.
Blood.
His eyes lowered.
Mina moved quickly, stepping over it.
“I cut my hand.”
He stared at her.
“You should be more careful.”
“So should you.”
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Then headlights turned the corner.
A patrol car.
The two men immediately stepped away.
“Have a nice night,” the taller one said.
They disappeared into the rain.
Mina locked the door.
Her knees nearly gave out.
She waited five full minutes before moving the shelf.
Evelyn emerged pale and shaking.
“You lied well.”
“I’m from a big family.”
Evelyn pressed a cloth to her shoulder.
“You should leave.”
Mina blinked.
“You’re the one bleeding.”
“I mean this city.”
Mina stared at her.
“Lady, I can barely afford bus fare.”
Evelyn studied her for a long moment.
Then she removed a gold ring from her finger.
A strange symbol was engraved into the side.
A crowned lion.
“Keep this.”
“I don’t want jewelry.”
“You may need it.”
“I need sleep.”
Evelyn almost laughed again.
But before either woman could say more, the sound of engines filled the street.
Not one vehicle.
Several.
Mina rushed toward the front window.
Five black SUVs stopped outside.
Doors opened almost simultaneously.
Men in dark suits stepped onto the sidewalk.
Mina backed away.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
The café door opened.
She had forgotten to relock it.
Six men entered.
The tallest moved first.
Broad shoulders.
Gray eyes.
A scar running from his ear toward his jaw.
Mina grabbed the nearest weapon she could find.
A stainless-steel coffee pot.
“Take one more step and I swear this thing is still hot.”
The men stopped.
Then Evelyn appeared behind her.
Every man immediately straightened.
The tall one lowered his head.
“Mrs. Castellano.”
The others bowed.
Mina slowly turned.
Evelyn looked nothing like a frightened woman now.
She stood bloodied and exhausted, but her voice had become steel.
“Marco.”
“We’ve been looking everywhere.”
“You were followed?”
“No.”
Evelyn’s gaze moved toward Mina.
The room fell silent.
Marco looked at the young waitress.
Then at the blood on her sleeve.
Then at the coffee pot in her hand.
“You protected her?”
Mina swallowed.
“Apparently.”
Marco’s expression changed.
Not gratitude.
Disbelief.
Because nobody in Chicago hid Evelyn Castellano.
Nobody lied to armed men for Evelyn Castellano.
May you like
Nobody except family.
And as Mina would learn before sunrise, the most dangerous family in the city had just decided she was no longer a stranger.
Related Stories
