Chapter 4 Three

• Angel's POV
• Back when Angel used to come here—years ago—with Federico and Bianca, his childhood friends, they’d once snuck behind the counter.
• Drunk and laughing.
• And they had found it.
• A slim metal door that led to the alley.
• Half opened.
• They had been young and stupid back then.
• And now, he needed that escape route.
• He pushed the bar’s door open.
• The soft ring of the bell above him sounded louder than it should have.
• Only two people were inside.
• Intimate.
• Murmuring to each other.
• Angel walked straight to the bartender.
• Sat on the tall high chair.
• His fingers started to tap against the counter.
• His heartbeat was way too fast.
• ‘I need a drink to calm me,’ he thought.
• Even though his stomach was tight and coiled like a fist.
• “Un amaro, per favore,” he said to the bartender, voice low.
• Something strong.
• Bitter.
• To calm himself down.
• But not strong enough to get drunk.
• The homey atmosphere inside the bar did nothing to soothe his nerves as he waited.
• The tapping of his fingers increased.
• ‘Come on, come on!’
• Then his hand moved fast as if snatching the drink from the bartender.
• He trembled slightly as he reached for his glass.
• And at the same time, the bell sounded again.
• ‘Someone came in,’ he thought. ‘They can’t wait, can’t they?’
• Angel didn't look up.
• Instead, his body shook.
• The moment he heard the sound of leather soles and the faint rustle of sleek suits—
• He instantly knew.
• ‘Luchese.’
• Angel kept his head tilted down.
• His long curly brown hair partially shielded his face.
• His breathing stopped.
• Waiting for the inevitable.
• But they did not approach him.
• No.
• Still holding his breath, he wondered why.
• Then he positioned his glass on the counter.
• Using the reflection to spy at them.
• Two burly men.
• Black suits.
• ‘Like that movie,’ he thought. ‘MIB.’
• They didn't come toward him.
• They sat at a table behind him instead.
• Angel didn’t turn.
• Did not acknowledge their presence.
• But he watched.
• And waited.
• Slowly releasing his breath.
• ‘They’re killing me with suspense! Oh my God!’
• Their reflection on his glass looks warped and quivering slightly from the liquor’s ripple.
• His throat tightened.
• ‘How do I outrun them?’
• A million dollar question.
• ‘Oh wait! I knew the bartender here..Enro.. Endo.. It’s Enzo!’
• Angel struggled to think clearly.
• ‘Enzo! I hope he still works here!’
• He eyed the people behind the counter.
• But there was none now.
• ‘Where did the bartender go? Come back!’
• He desperately prayed for a miracle.
• Enzo, the old man, had always given him and his friends a quiet nod whenever they came here.
• A recognition.
• ‘Or something like that.’
• He knew that they stumbled on the escape route, once.
• When Enzo forgot to lock the door after smoking there.
• But instead of getting angry, Enzo just smiled.
• Angel even joked about Enzo adopting him, just for the key.
• But it had been too long since Angel left.
• And now that he was back, it seemed Enzo was gone.
• Thirty minutes passed.
• The men still sat.
• Not drinking.
• Not ordering anything.
• Just.. watching..
• Or feeling him?
• ‘Where did you go, Enzo!’
• He turned slightly.
• Still no staff.
• Just two lovers, too busy in their own little paradise to care about a person in need!
• And those two suits.
• Angel groaned.
• The escape door!
• He’d need the employee access key.
• And he’d forgotten that part.
• ‘Where’s the bartender? Did you fall down on the toilet or something?’
• Angel started to hyperventilate.
• ‘When he comes back, I’m flirting with him!’
• He could feel sweat rolling down his back.
• Sticky and cold.
• Should he bolt?
• Make a run for it?
• Would they create a commotion?
• Do mafias care about those things?
• Angel bit his lips.
• The bell rang again.
• His hands twitched around the glass.
• His eyes snapped back to the smooth surface of his glass.
• He expected a third man.
• A signal.
• Someone who commanded them.
• Someone from the Luchese main family.
• Instead—
• A Hawaiian shirt.
• ‘Orange?’
• White shorts.
• Messy black hair.
• Sandals.
• ‘An american?’
• A tourist?
• Angel blinked.
• What kind of idiot walks around Florence dressed like that?
• He turned his head slightly.
• The tourist looked drunk.
• Or sunburned.
• Or both.
• He was big.
• Bigger than the two suits.
• And Angel can tell—he was pure muscle.
• Not exaggerated muscles like those gym addicts.
• More like a sleeper build.
• But not quite.
• He was tall.
• And his aura?
• Feels dangerous.
• ‘Really? Dangerous?’
• His eyes dropped to the tourist's left hand.
• The wine bottle was nearly empty.
• Then the tourist looked around—taking in the atmosphere inside the bar—slowly.
• Like the world owed him something.
• Then his eyes suddenly met Angel’s.
• ‘That scared me. Shit.’
• Silver eyes.
• Like a storm.
• Angel hitched his breath.
• But that wasn't the problem.
• The problem was—
• The two suits behind him had also noticed the tourist too.
• And Angel had a gut feeling.
• This man had just walked into something he clearly didn't understand.
• And might never walk out of.
• A plan formed inside Angel’s head.
• ‘I'm sorry tourist..’
• Then he stood up.
• Drank his liquor in one gulped.
• ‘I need it!’
• A bit dripped from the corner of his lips.
• Angel wiped it away.
• He fully turned to the tourist.
• Eyes locked on him.
• He didn’t look at the two suits.
• “You’re here..” Angel said. “Alessandro!”
• Guessing the man’s name.
• Which didn’t really suit the man—at all.
• Angel’s steps were sure and full of purpose—
• As if he really knew the tourist.
• He hooked his left arms to the stranger’s right arm.
• “Let’s go!”
• Angel peeked into the stranger's eyes.
• He expected confusion.
• Maybe anger too.
• But found amusement instead.
• As if to say, ‘really?’
• The man didn’t move at first.
• Even though Angel was exerting force to pull him back toward the entrance.
• Instead, the man drank from his bottle..
• Emptied it.
• “Hah.” the tourist said.
• He even burp.
• Looked around the bar once more.
• “Are they bothering you, babe?”
• The voice was so deep.
• Manly.
• Husky.
• Like he had just sex.
• Angel can feel his skin crawl.
• From disgust or from how good his voice sounds—he didn't know.
• “Lets go..” Angel hurried the man.
• “Pfft…” the tourist held his laughter.
• ‘He was clearly enjoying this!’
• Angel was slowly getting irritated.
• “Wait…babe? Are you in a hurry to jump in my bed?”
• Angel was flabbergasted from the words coming out from the man’s dirty mouth.
• Chuckling from Angel’s expression on his face, the tourist continued..
• “Let little Alessandrino here clean this up for you babe…” he teased.
• The tourist looked at the two suits.
• “Trash everywhere…”
• The two men in suits were pulling something behind them.
• ‘A gun!’
• Angel’s eyes widened in fear.
• ‘No!’
• He wanted to shout and warn the strange Hawaiian shirt man.
• But the stranger just smiled.
• His half-drunk eyes looked like he was undressing Angel.
• It all happened in a split second.
• A gun was pulled.
• The tourist kicked.
• Bottles smashed on a head.
• Chairs were thrown around.
• Someone rolled.
• Furniture broken.
• One man versus two.
• BANG!
• A gunshot rang out.
• “Hah…”
• The tourist stood tall.
• Ran a hand through his hair.
• Covered in sweat and the smell of liquor.
• Angel looked down.
• The suits were down.
• One was unconscious but alive.
• The other one was cursing—holding his knee.
• Angel can smell the blood.
• Salty.
• Coppery.
• ‘Who the hell is this guy?’
• **