The Mafia Man

Scars and Missions

               I gasped. The noise had come from our back lawn. Colin and I dashed outside, along with several people from each gang. A man I assumed to be Tony was sprawled on the lawn, blood pouring from his kneecap. Callahan shoved his handgun back into his waistband and stalked off, saying as he went,

"That's not meant to kill him. It's meant to make an impression. Mess with my girl; you're messing with me." He disappeared into the house, and I sprinted after him.

I grabbed a hold of his arm, and he immediately stopped walking. His body had tensed up at my touch.

"Why couldn't you have just talked to him, Cal? Why'd you have to shoot him?"

"He won't die," he stated gruffly, as if that made everything okay.

"That's not the point. You still shot him and he's still in pain. Please don't hurt people on my behalf. Please, Cal."

He turned around smoothly and cupped my face in his hands. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, my sweet Rosie, but I'm a mafia leader. I hurt people, and I don't feel bad about it. I'm in too deep. It's too late to change."

He stroked my cheek, while I thought about this beautiful man who was knee-deep in murder counts.

I took a chance, reaching out a hand to press against his own scar-ridden cheek. He shut his eyes and leaned into my tender touch. I gulped, and his eyes flicked open to meet mine.

I traced a scar that ran along the side of his face. He had so many scars...

I went to trace the line of his jaw before the rest of the mafia members burst in.

Cal growled under his breath and released me, stroking my hair as he said, "Men, meet me in the conference room at 8:30 this evening. We have a new mission- Bernard Lelanski.

My stomach lurched. I had a bad feeling they were going to kill this man. And worse, I knew him.