They Call Me...Montey Greene

Chapter Eight

FIFTEEN MINUTES.

That's about how long it took for Montey Greene and Alejandra Lasprilla to make their way through the now packed streets leading to Piazza della Scala.

"Where's your driver?" he asked as his eyes instinctively darted about when they stopped at the red light on the corner as trams and other traffic whizzed by.

Alejandra fidgeted, looked around. "There," she said pointing out the dark sedan with the dark tinted windows parked beyond the two blue and white police cars and the waiting taxi cabs across the street.

"Perfect," Montey thought to himself when he saw the car parked directly in front of his Vespa Scooter.

When the light changed green Montey grabbed her by the arm, hurried across the street. Reaching the car Alejandra handed Montey a bag.

"What's this?"

"It's the least I could do for what you did back there and for seeing me to my car," she said as she pulled on the door handle. It was locked.

Montey stole a quick peek in the bag to find the shoes he had his eye on in the store.

"You didn't have to.....," he began when he looked up from the bag and saw Alejandra tapping on the car window as she peered through the tinted glass.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he placed the shoes in the storage compartment under the seat of his scooter.

"My driver is passed out."

"Passed out? What, is he a narc?"

The look Alejandra shot him told Montey that she didn't understand what he was talking about.

"Does he have narcolepsy?" Montey elaborated. "You know, the condition when people just doze off in the middle of doing something."

Montey made the comment knowing everything in his body told him something wasn't right.

The thugs he disarmed in the store were nowhere in sight, so why did everything feel wrong right about now? Mounting his scooter his eyes scanned for the source of discomfort.

Alejandra walked around the front of the car, did a double-take when she peered into the windshield. Then came that piercing yell which would ring in Montey's ears for years to come.

Montey's head snapped up. And everyone within earshot appeared to have the same knee jerk reaction as they turned in the direction of Alejandra's blood curling scream.

That's when Montey Greene saw the twin barrels of a 12-guage scattergun being leveled out the back passenger window.

He leapt from the scooter grabbing a hold of the barrel causing the unseen assailant to inadvertently pull the trigger—

BLAM

—the roar of the shotgun blast echoed across the square.

The kickback from the shotgun and Montey's actions caused the barrel to smash upwards into the window frame and the assailant to be thrown off balance inside the car.

Montey's follow through momentum and the shotgun blast had carried him close enough to tackle Alejandra to the ground, the contents of her oversized bag spilling onto the cobblestoned street.

The back passenger door of the car began to open as the still unseen assailant began to get out.

Montey rolled over on top of Alejandra palming one of the handguns that spilled out of her bag releasing the safety just as the assailants' foot hit the pavement.