Doc Mallick pushed open the door with his shoulder, his face heavy, drained, almost grey.
Rose stood immediately. "Is he…?"
Mallick sighed dramatically. "Too much blood has been lost."
Rose's fingers froze around her cigarette. A cold pulse shot down her spine. For a moment, the room tilted, had the man died?
Mallick blinked at her confusion. "What is that face? Did I say he died? No, no....come here." He marched up to her, waving a crumpled jacket like a trophy. "Have you ever seen something like THIS?"
Rose stared at the black jacket soaked with blood.
"This thing caught three bullets clean." Mallick jabbed a finger through the holes. "The last two…yes, yes…they entered the body, but they had already lost most of their momentum. That's why it looked like a slaughterhouse there. But! Nothing vital was hit."
Rose breathed again. Her shoulders softened. "Good. I'll speak with the man."
Mallick raised a stern hand. "Wait. I had to make him faint. Used a little…how do you say….gentle push of anesthetics. He'll wake soon."
Meanwhile, outside, voices grew louder. Some of Rose's subordinates and three full groups of men her father had sent were crowding the porch.
Mallick's face contorted in disgust. "Out! OUT! My house is not a public toilet!"
Rose stepped outside, eyes cold. "Secure the perimeter. No one enters unless I say so."
The men scattered instantly. Even Mallick looked impressed.
A white van pulled up. Lorenzo emerged with a half-bald man in cheap clothes and a nervous smile.
"Boss, this is Baruch," Lorenzo introduced. "Says he's family of the wounded guy. Found him at the hotdog stand you said."
Natasha narrowed her eyes. "Uncle?"
Baruch clutched his chest. "No, I am his brother."
Lorenzo blinked. "…Older brother?"
Baruch glared.
Mallick barked from his makeshift operation room to them. "He's awake. Come and talk if you want to."
They filed into the small room. Ethan sat propped against pillows, pale and bandaged, but conscious. He managed a faint nod as everyone entered.
Rose stepped closer. "How are you feeling?"
"There is pain," Ethan admitted softly, "but… not like before."
Before Rose could continue, Baruch launched himself dramatically across the foot of the bed.
"MY BROTHER ETHAN! What happened to you?! OH NOOO! How will I live now? How will I pay for your treatment? We are so poor!"
Ethan froze. Mallick blinked. Natasha rolled her eyes.
Rose put a hand on Baruch's shaking shoulder. "Calm down. I will take care of your brother until he heals."
Baruch clasped her hand as if she were divine. "Oh, Miss beautiful! A goddess! A saint! A blessing from…."
Ethan widened his eyes desperately at Baruch…stop talking, stick to the story….but Baruch misunderstood and intensified the worship.
"Our whole family is indebted to you! Forever!"
Natasha folded her arms. "Are you two trying to guilt-trip her? If you want more money, just say so. The boss didn't ask your brother to jump in front of her."
Rose shot her a glare. "Natasha. Enough."
She turned to Lorenzo. "Give him ten G's after we are done here."
Baruch's face lit like a festival lamp.
Ethan couldn't take it anymore. He coughed sharply.
"Cough… Kevlar… cough…"
Mallick snapped his fingers. "Yes! That jacket!" He grabbed it from the chair. "What IS this thing? I've never seen cloth stop bullets like this. Is this new military tech? Secret government stuff?"
Ethan scratched his cheek, trying to appear shy, but also a little proud. "I'm… very interested in physics and material science. It's something I've been working on. Honestly… I didn't think it would work."
Mallick stared at him like he'd sprouted wings. "Are you JOKING? This is extraordinary! Without it, you'd be dead."
Natasha crossed her arms. "What cloth stops bullets? Doc, did you take too many puffs of marijuana?"
Baruch puffed up, offended. "Why would you say that? If you don't believe it, check it yourself!"
He looked at Ethan. "My brother is something of a scientist."
That triggered a five-way argument…Natasha and Baruch yelling, Lorenzo defending Natasha, Mallick insulting all three.
Finally they decided to check the jacket by shooting at it and got out of the room leaving Rose and Ethan alone.
Rose tuned them out and stepped closer to Ethan. The man looked a mixed race with striking bluish eyes. Without the short beard, the face could pass as quite pretty.
"Your name is Ethan? Why did you jump in to save me?"
Ethan met her eyes. "I wasn't thinking straight. I was… actually planning to enter the underground fighting ring to earn money. But the building caught fire. When I was running, I heard gunshots. Hid near a corner. When I saw you were about to be shot… I just moved."
"You can fight?" Rose asked.
"Not really." Ethan shook his head. "I was hoping to get paid for getting beaten up. That's why I wore the jacket…with the Kevlar lining."
Rose narrowed her gaze. Something didn't match. But she couldn't pinpoint what. Yes there are people with over protective tendencies, but jumping into gunshots is just crazy.
"So," she asked quietly, "how did you build that jacket? Kevlar, you said?"
"It's just polymer chains woven to distribute force evenly. The material isn't great, but… it can save lives. As you just saw." Ethan gestured at himself.
"Are you giving me a sales pitch? How many of these have you made?"
"That's the only one. Took me a year. I don't have the materials or tools for more."
Rose leaned forward. "So if you were given materials… you could make more?"
"Absolutely. And better ones." Ethan smiled inside. Finally, someone with a functioning brain. Talking only with Baruch sometimes made him feel like losing IQ points.
Rose straightened. "When you've healed, I'll take you to meet my father."
"Well I have also buil….."
At that exact moment, Lorenzo burst into the house like a wrecking ball.
The door slammed against the wall.
From the kitchen, Mallick screamed, "PAY FOR MY DOOR!"
Lorenzo didn't even look his way. Natasha ran in behind him and knocked the broken door clean off its hinges.
"Boss!" Lorenzo shouted. "Those fuckers… I mean Angelo and his men, surrendered themselves! The Don has called you back to the house."
Rose clicked her tongue. Of course. Another unexpected twist. Angelo surrendering meant only one thing, he was walking into his own execution. But why?
She turned to Ethan. "Rest for now and heal. We'll talk again."
Then to her men: "Pay Mallick for the door."
As she left, Baruch returned, holding Ethan's jacket….which was still faintly smoking because everyone outside had taken turns shooting it to test its strength.
Ethan groaned. "Oh for…stop testing the jacket!"
Baruch beamed. "Brother, it stopped every bullet!"
Mallick rubbed his temples. "I need more weed."
The house erupted in another argument as Rose's car pulled away.
......
Angelo's car rolled to a stop before the Belladonna estate. The gates alone looked like they could swallow a man whole. Thompson gulped loud enough for the others to hear as the mansion loomed over them, guards posted at every corner like statues waiting for an excuse to move.
Liz glanced up at the shadows on the balconies, the rifles glinting faintly under the afternoon light. "Well, looks like he already found out."
Patrick adjusted his coat and replied with a crisp, composed tone. "Naturally. The Don's influence extends farther than most dare imagine."
Hans, Don Vittorio's butler, stepped forward with a pair of men. They patted everyone down. Liz leaned in on the man searching her, winked, and tapped her finger near her cleavage. "You sure you don't want to check here?"
The guard jumped back like he'd touched fire. Hans waved him off with a scolding look. "Enough. Mr. Angelo, the Don awaits you at the table. Please follow me."
Angelo forced a smile and kept beside Hans. The other three trailed behind, steps echoing softly across the polished floor.
Inside, Don Vittorio Belladonna sat in a grand chair carved from dark wood. The room smelled faintly of cigars, leather, and something older, something colder.
Angelo's bravado cracked just a little. Images of the old man's brutal handiwork flickered through his mind.
"Good afternoon, Don," Angelo managed.
"Sit." Vittorio's voice was calm, dangerous in its calmness. "You have grown quite a spine, I see. Now tell me, why should your body not end up as food for fish?"
Angelo motioned toward Patrick. Patrick hesitated, then handed over the old notebook, avoiding Don's eyes. Vittorio flipped through it without changing his expression.
When he finished, he shut it gently. "Very well. I shall ask again. Why should your body not become food for fish?"
Angelo shivered, why? He thought the copies of the ledger should be enough to faze the old man.
Thompson's nerves snapped. He dropped to his knees with a thud. "I'm sorry, Don! It was all Angelo's plan. He forced me to help. He said he'd kill me if I didn't listen."
His head was already thudding on the floor hard enough to draw blood.
A shot cracked through the room. Thompson collapsed forward instantly, blood spreading across the floor.
Liz lowered a tiny gun she had drawn from her blouse, blowing a stray strand of hair out of her face.