The heavy scent of disinfectant assaulted my nose. Sterile air clogged my airways while I struggled with all my might to remember what happened. The inside of my throat may as well have been sandpaper, each swallow grew more difficult. The dryness in my mouth glued my tongue to the roof. My attempt to open my eyelids proved futile, the heaviness of them impossible to overcome. Bit by bit my senses began to gain ground. I smacked my lips. God, why am I so thirsty.
My eyelids fluttered enough to allow a short burst of blinding light in, the brightness of it stung. Everything hurt. Carefully I tested my eyes, gradually being able to hold them open. I scanned around the small baby blue room, still a little confused as to the whys and how's of how I got here. A nurse sat at a station right outside the opened door, she busied herself by reading a romance novel.
In the corner were two navy blue chairs, the fabric was frayed with wear and tear. The small table held a fresh bouquet of flowers with a white card amongst the petals. A lone clock adorned the wall. No other décor appeared visible from where I lay. The heart monitor beeped away beside the bed and oxygen tubes irritated my nose and I wanted to sneeze.
Images stormed my mind.
'A red-haired lady laid in a bed, her eyes closed, she looked fast asleep. A man stood beside her, ashen-faced while holding her hand, his other one held mine. To me, his hand appeared monstrous in size. But he made me feel safe, loved, and protected. He stared down at me, his bottom lip trembled. His eyes were wet with tears. I shifted my gaze between him and the short Asian man in a white doctor's smock, who stood on the other side of the bed.
"It's time." The other man said.
"No, I don't want her to go." my tiny voice protested.
"The child shouldn't be here." A male voice spoke up from the darker recesses of the room. The man holding my hand gripped tighter. The mystery speaker stayed masked in shadows.
With those words, the doctor pulled the crisp white sheet over her. Veiling her forever from my sight.'
Then the image vanished in an instant. A faded dream in a waking state, the urge to cry overcame me. I lay there, tears spilled from my eyes. My need to find out what the hell was going on pushed the strange vision away.
I tried to sit up and the movement elicited a gut-wrenching scream from my lips. Pain seared deep in my chest; the shock left me gasping and gaping for air. I lay there panting in agonizing breaths, unsure of what the hell happened, my mind hazed into a fuzzy cloud. The agony which racked my body caused my brain to struggle with any other thoughts.
The blur of white only just caught my attention. The nurse rushed to my side, a syringe in her hand. I cringed a little as she poked the needle into the IV tube. The effects of the drugs kicked in after several long moments. Everything became hazy, people talked and an annoying repetitive beep came from somewhere beside me. The newly regained control over my eyelids faltered, the room distorted. The sensation of falling washed over me.
I awoke to Detective Roberts standing there with a solemn expression on his face. The annoying tubes and IVs were gone as was the heart monitor.
"Excuse us, nurse, we need to talk in private, if you don't mind."
"Yes as long as you don't do anything to upset her. We have her quite heavily sedated, so whatever she says may not be accurate," The nurse warned him with sternness to her voice.
She brushed by him, giving me a warm smile before she shut the door to the room.
He dragged one of the chairs over beside the bed, giving me a once over. After he sat down, he pulled his little black book from his pocket. He flipped open his notepad and started to write stuff down as if I already told him something. The detective paused and glanced up at me.
"You're lucky to be alive. Why on earth would you of all people be there?" He asked me as he eyed me over in the bed.
"What, you don't think I know how to wash my clothes."
I stared at him as if he had six heads; this being so typical of Roberts to make it come across as if little old me has something to do with those events.
"What do you want Roberts?"
"Only the truth."
My parched mouth very much wanted the small plastic cup of ice water that sat on the tiny pullover table. The small remote fumbled in my grip as my fingers fought with the tiny buttons to make the bed move. But they were too weak and I had zero hand-eye coordination going on. My nemeses got up and helped me to a sitting position with the remote and slid the table over my lap.
He watched me for a few seconds as I struggled to take a sip of water before he grabbed the cup.
"Here I got that," He told me as he held my drink. I didn't want his help, but my arms tingled with a million pinpricks from the attempt.
"You good?" he asked.
"Yeah."
He set the cup back down onto the table.
"Why don't you start by giving me your name?"
"Mouse," I told him and stared at the roses, "Hey, pass me the card from the flowers would you?"
Roberts handed the card over and scrutinized my face as I read it.
The note was in Italian, 'I'm Sorry, get better soon B.L.' I couldn't help the smile on my lips, Bruno sent them.
"So you know Italian I see," Roberts jotted some more in his notebook.
"What day is it?" I ignored his statement trying to assess exactly how long I was here.
"It's Monday the ninth, now what is your real name?" he tried again.
It boggled my mind that he continued to even bother with asking me that.
"Listen to my words, it is M.O.U.S.E. Now ask something else, would you? Repetition isn't going to get you anywhere," I snapped at him. He eyed me oddly and wrote something else in his damned little book.
"How old are you?"
"Not interested in dating a cop, sorry," I said. A grimace gripped my lips as I tried to move.
"I'm thirty seconds away from calling in the Fed's to take this freak show over."
"Bullshit Roberts."
"We have you at the same spot as an established underboss, both your and Speranza's prints from the package of 50k. So no lip, no attitude, and no lying." he hollered.
I believed he meant his underlying threat this time.
Silently I stared at him as the realization I was screwed this time set in. Roberts arresting me would be one thing, the FEDs that would be a whole different demon. Those thoughts made my guts turn in knots. I knew from experience that when that happened I should listen.
"Make me a promise and swear you'll keep it. Then I'll tell you what I can," I said all of a sudden and Roberts looked genuinely surprised at my turn about.
"What is it?"
"You won't hand me over to the Fed's; it's as easy as that," I told him.
"Okay, I swear I won't...as long as you didn't break the law."
He added that new bit on and I figured the little petty things he could nail me with were not what he was after.
"My name IS Mouse...I don't remember anything except for the last six months?" I told him with complete honesty.
"You actually expect me to believe that,"
"Well, it's damn well true." I snapped.
A perplexed expression washed over his face, he peered from me to his notebook and back again. He began to write the information down and then paused.
"Really?"
"Roberts, I don't know who I am, so DUH," I said, a little of the sarcastic me came out all of a sudden. He sat there quietly for several long moments, his gaze fixed on my eyes.
"I've run your prints and your face as well as that little tattoo of yours; nothing came up in any of the systems I have access to."
"Well, what can I say…I'm the invisible girl," I told him, "Sorry, bad habit."
Not pissing him off might be my best idea, right there I decided to curb the sarcasm as best I could.
"So in regards to the shooting what do you wanna know?" I tried to make amends quickly.
"Why were you there and what exactly did you see."
Over the next hour, I told him everything that wouldn't incriminate me. I explained that I found the package right outside the door and I simply returned it. The mafia doesn't like snitches, they tend to end up dead, so I left out any knowledge of their dealings in this. However, I did manage a good look at one of the shooters before everything got thrown into chaos and gave him the description.
He thanked me for finally trusting him enough to tell him something and asked me if I needed anything.
"Get me the hell out of here," I told him, Roberts's eyes flickered from light blue to a stormy gray-blue in seconds at my response.
"You took seven bullets. One missed your heart by a quarter of an inch, don't ask me how but you lived. Even the doctors are stumped. You're our sole witness. If I have to I'll arrest you in order to keep whoever did this from taking you out," he told me flatly. I mentally kicked myself. Roberts ensnared me as if I were a fly in a spider's web, with no choice but to play along, at least for the moment.
After he left, two cops were posted outside my room and I got the privilege of watching the nurses flirt with them. I could think of so many better places to be. My attempts to conjure up a plan to escape from here were futile. My injuries made thinking straight damn near impossible.
All I wanted was for the pain to stop, the need growing to be as far away from this hospital as possible. Slowly my body began to tickle as mild electric shocks flowed over me. They didn't hurt and were more intense around my bandaged areas. Something weird was going on, this never happened before.
The nurse in the hall giggled loudly, the noise caught my attention. I assumed one of the officers had said something funny but I didn't hear what it was, being wrapped up in the tingling sensation. The feeling disappeared the second my attention was drawn away.
With my eyes closed I focused on my injuries, an image of them formed in my mind. The itch stirred again. The harder I concentrated on my wounds the stronger the tingle got. The pain decreased by the hour. I attempted to sit up and discovered my body moved with only mild discomfort. This is awesome, I thought. The excitement disappeared with the realization of how many alarm bells a person healing at this rate would bring.
My need to break out of the hospital before the doctors discovered my miraculous recovery became paramount. If not, my story would make the Weird and Wonderful tabloid. I buzzed the nurse and asked for some privacy so I could go to sleep. She kindly slid the oversized striped curtain in front of the observation window and shut the door almost all of the way. The drape blocked the cop's view of me.
I waited for almost an hour to ensure they believed I would be asleep. My feet hit the floor without a sound and I crept to the window. I judged my room to be on the second floor. It neared eight in the evening, the lights cast a glow over the streets. This would aid me in my disappearing act. A small roof jutted out less than nine feet below and right beyond that sat a treed sitting area for patients. Piece of cake, I thought as I made my escape into the night.
I scurried towards a nearby apartment building and ducked into the empty alley beside the complex to find something to wear. Luck was on my side, as I found several lines of clothes hung across the open space between the buildings a few floors up. I figured Roberts would be more than pissed. If he ever caught me again there would be some pretty weird shit I'd have to try and lie my way out of.
Having scarcely survived a shootout and fleeing the hospital would land my face all over the news. There would be no explaining any of this away as a fluky coincidence. Pulling an outfit off a clothesline, slipping the enormous men's dress shirt over me, the sense of being observed flooded me. Whipping around, I caught a little boy peeking out his bedroom window. My smile must have scared him, as he ducked out of view as soon as I grinned.
I headed for the Upper East Side in hopes of finding Bruno at his bar and figuring out what the hell happened. It was quite late by the time I got there so I ducked into the back lane behind the building. Seeing Bruno's car I figured he would be the one closing up. I was still unsure of who the shooters were so I hid in the shadows close to his car. He didn't disappoint me as he kept to his regular routine and I tiptoed out as he opened the driver's door.
"Hey, got a sec?" I asked. He wheeled around swinging and a fist the size of a baseball glove connected, everything went dark again.
My head pounded. Something cold pressed to the side of my face. Taking my time, I opened my eyes, expecting to find myself stuck in the hospital again. Amazed, I stared back at my own visage. Blinking a few times, it took a moment to realize my reflection stared back at me from a mirror. The reflective surface covered the entire ceiling of the room and showed me lying on a king-size bed with red satin coverings. The extremely massive man who sat beside my horizontal form made me look even teenier than I was.
Bruno held an ice pack to my cheek, staring distraughtly at me. I turned my head to face him making my jaw throb more.
"Ouchies," I said, smiling as I did. "Did you really have to hit me so hard?"
I pouted as he removed the bag from my cheek and helped me to sit up.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry Doll. What the hell were you doing sneaking around out back, I coulda killed you."
"I was hoping to talk to you privately, um speaking of privately, where are we?" I scanned what appeared to be a love nest out of the '60s. The funky style furniture, a lava lamp, shag rugs, and tacky wallpaper were cheesy, to say the least.
"One of my safe houses."
"Oh yeah, excellent taste," I said sarcastically.
"It was from a movie. They sold the house and everything in it after the movie went bust," he explained. He continues to examine my red welted eye and swollen cheek with a curious glint in his eyes.
"You got anything to drink?" I hoped he would at least have a beer.
"I gotta few bottles of wine and some scotch in the cabinet."
"I would kill for some scotch." It was a while since I had a stiff drink and with the past week's events, I figured I deserved one.
My gaze followed him as he left. The realization of where I laid made my tummy flutter with the possibilities. I imagined this, being alone with him, in his room so many times before. Me, the damsel in distress, and him, the handsome bad boy hero who came to my rescue. Lost in my daydreams of us in even more intimate contact I scarcely detected the clinking of glasses. The warmth of my face was all of a sudden intensified as Bruno returned with a full bottle of amber-colored liquor and two small tumblers.
"Doll, you like rum? It's all I got for hard stuff," he told me, pouring a glass before I was able to answer him.
"Sure, as long as it's wet and hard, it's good." Belting the drink back, I tried not to gag on the hard stuff, as the liquid burned on the way down. Bruno stared at me with a raised brow, his glass froze halfway to his lips.
"You all right?" he moved a little closer to me on the bed. My cheeks burned a little as the booze warmed me. Bruno slid his hand onto my leg and another warm rush flowed over me. But this time the cause came from his firm grazing hand and the intense sensation grew as my heart raced in my chest. My gaze drifted down to his large mitt.
"Um, yeah I'm fine."
"So who got shot in the Laundromat then?"
His face turned to a stone mask, his grip tightened on my leg, although it didn't hurt. It was meant as a warning. The gig was up. He sent flowers, fuck I'm stupid, I thought. Coming to visit the man who sent me to Speranza's in the first place was a bad idea.
"Bruno...I...um well...It's not something I can explain."
He squeezed my leg a little tighter. "Well, you better try, the boss he's gonna have questions and I'm gonna need answers."
Trapped in a corner, I tried to think on the fly. The parcels I delivered for him didn't contain pizzas and Bruno's bosses were far from saints. The wrong answer would have his bosses sending me to the bottom of the Hudson River. Things couldn't be going more wrong for me. I stared up into his darkening eyes, how the fuck am I supposed to explain this to him.
"What are you going to do?" I asked.
He leaned in towards me a bit, the hardness in his glare grew. "You don't wanna find out. I don't want you to get hurt but I need to know what happened or my ass is in the fire too."
Things got complicated fast and I decided to fib my way out of this and hoped he would buy my story.
"Listen I did what you asked me to. I was only there a couple of minutes and everything went to hell on me. I ducked behind a desk for cover and hit my head on the edge."
"And?" He narrowed his eyes, making him appear even more intense. His patience appeared to have worn thin.
"And I came to in the hospital, the cops told me no one else made it, sorry about your cousin by the way."
"So why did they say they didn't expect you to live on the news then?"
Not catching the news left me unaware of this information. My conversation with Detective Roberts came to mind.
"'Cause I saw one of the shooters and the cops didn't want them knowing I was going to live," I told him half-assed honestly.
Bruno scrutinized me long and hard, his staring made me uncomfortable, the need to be far away from him crept over me. The fear of him turning me over to his boss quickly spiraled into anger; the slow heated simmer grew in my chest. The temperature increased, intensified with each fading moment. I knew what could happen when I lost my temper, I didn't want that to happen, not to him. Bruno needed to do what his boss told him to, I understood not to take it personally. In my heart, I hoped he would never hurt me.
A pang of guilt swept over me, quelling the anger. Queasiness replaced everything else, at the thoughts of me losing control. He released the grip on my thigh, without removing his hand from my leg. He then belted back his drink and held my gaze, I thought for a moment he might apologize. But instead, he stood up and dug his cell phone out of his pocket, and dialed a number.
"Hey it's me, we need to talk. I got Mouse here, she saw the shooter," he spoke in fluent Italian with the other person. "No I'll bring her there...no I can do it... yeah I know... I Told You I Can Bring Her."
His face darkened as he spoke. "Yeah, I get it." Then there was a long pause.
"Yeah I know." his knuckles started to lose color and the cell phone creaked under the pressure of his grip. I thought of my poor leg and how much damage he could have inflicted if he wanted to.
"YEAH I KNOW." he grew angrier with whoever he talked with.
Bruno told the other person what I said and he poured us both another shot after he hung up. We both belted them back this time and he sat back down beside me.
"You're gonna meet somebody important tonight, he wants you to tell him everything you saw, all right Doll," Bruno told me rather than asked me.
I sat there sizing him up for a long moment wondering who I needed to meet but didn't want to further anger him by asking. He reached over, taking his time brushing the hair from my eyes. Damn it why won't you kiss me, I thought.
In my mind, I believed that one kiss would be all that I needed to make him fall in love with me. The rational me knew better though. After all, he was handsome, charismatic, and dangerous. He surely had more lovers lined up than I did sarcastic remarks. Still, that knowledge didn't stop my fantasies about him.
The musical tone of his cell ringing took me from my more pleasant thoughts of his lips on mine back to reality.
"Yeah I'm here...yeah ok...yeah we are on our way," Bruno hung up looking a little pissed. "Come on we're leaving."