Page 35 of The Man with a Treasure

This young man was committed to following me into Hell. How could I deny his simple request? So, I didn’t. I shut my mouth and sunk deeper into Noemi and the denial they both were begging for.

Sal and I had just had another morning of training. On this day, it had been about driving. Sal and I had known the basics, but we were now being taught: “Understand the force of a car… You have a small patch of contact. Your tires… Don’t turn the steering wheel quickly. Don’t fight it… Build up the energy in your car… Don’t shock it. Be gentle… Nice and smooth… Hold the grip… See how we are tighter?”

Having learned quickly, Sal laughed, commenting, “Race driving sounds like learning how to handle an Italian woman,” as he parked the car back at the Giordanos.

Cristian laughed freely while exiting the car. “Says one who sounds like an experienced lover.”

Headed to the vines for a ritual smoke break, Pietro asked, “So, you ever going to tell us which local girls you are using all these condoms on?”

“The list is too long, my friend,” lied Sal as he handed over the car keys.

Cristian coughed on an inhale due to laughing so hard. “That many, eh?”

Sal spread his arms wide. “Are you doubting Sal Rossi’s magic kisses? Who am I to say no to all the ladies’ desires?”

Many comments overlapped as we all teased Sal for his never-ending bullshit.

Cristian commented, “It has to be an impressive list because we have already had to replenish your supplies.”

I did wonder how one man, her husband, was going to be able to keep up with her healthy appetite.

Pietro took a drag off his cigarette. “When you clowns officially become suits, Mr. Giordano is keeping you on day shifts so that Mrs. Rossi gets to see you on a regular basis.”

With gratitude, I nodded. “Much appreciated.”

Sal added, “At least until my father returns.”

I asked Pietro and Cristian, “When does it become official?”

The two men looked at each other, a little guilt present. “Soon.”

Sal and I were no longer the farmhands loading sheep or milk into trucks. We were the hands that now loaded the mysterious boxes first. We were now part of the team to carry out Mr. Giordano’s illegal business deals. Most days, everything went without a hitch. That is until the one day it all went wrong.

I had questioned the driver, “Are you new?”

The man, about 6’4”, brushed off my inquiry with a simple, “He is sick, so they sent me.”

Sal was already loading crates full of jars of milk, that were hiding rifles, into the back of the truck that we had dealt with many times. If not careful, routine can cause blindness.

Walking around the front of the commercial-sized truck, I pointed to the windshield, asking, “Who are you?” to the passenger I had never seen before.

Behind the glass, the stranger shrugged. “Just a backup replacement.”

Alarms were pinging in my gut, so I peered around for Pietro and Cristian, or any other Suits, but, unfortunately, none were anywhere in sight. Again, I thought of how careless we had all become in the name of ‘routine’.

I wasn’t going to be caught off guard more than I had already been.

At the passenger door, I pulled out my gun and aimed. “Get out until I have confirmation.” In the corner of my eye, I saw Sal peeking around the back of the truck.

He must have heard me. “Angelo?”

As the passenger door opened, I backed up to make room. “Sal, something isn’t right—” I didn’t even get to finish my sentence before the passenger started reaching for his own gun.

Time stood still as I was faced with the choice to be killed or do the killing. Even after all the training we had experienced—shooting many objects—actually pulling the trigger on a human felt so against nature itself. Yet, what choice did I have? The dark expression on the stranger’s face promised he did not feel the same. That he was going to pull a trigger and end my life within one second.

So, I beat him to it.

I pulled the trigger of the gun I had aimed directly at his chest to cause a grave wound.