Indebted to the Mafia King

*Cal*

Normally, I'd hesitate before jumping through a curtain of flames. Even to save someone's life. If it was one of my men in there, what would I do? I wouldn't think twice before trying to save them. Why am I seriously considering letting that pretty girl die by herself, a victim of something she shouldn't even be involved with in the first place?

That thought seems to renew my determination, and finding a breach in the fire, I climb through the broken window and step inside the store, immediately covering my nose with my arm.

The place is a fucking mess already, thick black smoke covering the tall shelves of books.

I look around, frantically searching for the woman who was in this exact spot a few minutes ago.

Did she manage to escape before the explosion? Did she even see it coming?

The front door and the back door seem to be blocked, so I don't see how she could've escaped in time to avoid the fire.

I wish I knew her name so I could call for her, but when I was in here a few days ago, I didn't ask, and she wasn't wearing a name tag.

Through the noises of paper and wood burning, I hear a faint cough, and my head snaps in that direction, desperate to find its source.

It's getting harder to breathe in here, and the last thing I need is to also become a victim who needs to be rescued or worse.

I toss aside some barriers in my way-chairs, tables, and even a couple of burning bookshelves-and that's when I spot her, a few feet away from me, surrounded by fire. I can't see her clearly, but by the way she's sucking in air, I can only imagine she is about to passout. Or maybe she's hurt. Either way, there's no way in hell either of us are making it out unless I act now.

She doesn't seem to notice me when I approach. Or, maybe she does, but her eyes aren't able to focus on me. I have no time to ask how she's feeling or if she's injured because the next thing I know, she's falling to the floor, barely conscious. I launch forward, reaching for her, my arms scooping up her tiny frame off the floor. I lift her, noticing she weighs next to nothing, and turn back. I need to get her out of here before this place fucking collapses on both of us. She mutters something that sounds like, "Thank you."

All I can think to say in response is, "Don't thank me yet, sweetheart."

The only way out is back where I came in-the front window. Both doors are blocked, and I don't have time to try and find another escape route. Sirens wail; flashing lights begin to cut through the smoke. Any second now, the fire department is going to swarm this place, blasting us with water to try to save the levels upon levels of businesses and apartments above the bookstore. I have to get her out. I have to get myself out and far away from any cops.

Climbing out of the window with her in my arms while diverting the flames proves to be a bit harder than I anticipated, but luckily, I manage to do just that. As soon as my feet touch the sidewalk, I sprint around the corner of the building, away from the approaching sirens. That's when I hear another crash behind me, and looking through the windows on the side of the shop, I notice that part of the ceiling fell just where we were a couple of seconds ago.novelbin

I inhale sharply, taking in all the fresh air I can get. I look down, searching for any sign of her breathing. Her chest goes up and down, although so slowly that I fear her situation can get worse soon. "Get the fuck out of here!," I yell at Hunter and Sam who are both watching from the alley across the street.

I change my mind about trying to get out the back since half my men are still milling around. Instead, I rush to the bar, cutting back through the alley and across the street under the shadows cast by the fire trucks swarming the street. With the young woman in my arms, I storm inside so I can lay her down and assess the damage.

She groans in my arms, and that is enough to spike my hope that she's okay. "Hey, I need you to stay here with me," I urge, seeing her struggle to open her eyes. "You'll be fine. We'll get you to the hospital in no time," I tell her, although I doubt she can hear me or make sense of what I'm saying.

The commotion inside the bar is overwhelming, and now that my men have allowed the customers to finally leave, after guaranteeing that it's no longer dangerous outside, people dart out of the bar, screaming and bumping into each other on their way out.

Hunter comes inside with his phone in hand. "Your car's running. We gotta get out of here, now," he informs me.

The girl groans in my arms again, and my heart shrinks, imagining she might be in pain. I try to look for injuries again, now with the dim light of the bar making it a bit easier to study her. But she's wearing a thick sweater and jeans, so I can't tell if she's wounded or if we only need to worry about smoke inhalation.

"Are you okay? Were you hit? Or burned?" I ask, but to no avail. She doesn't answer me, her eyes rolling to the back of her head.

"Who did this?" I turn to Hunter, trying to keep desperation out of my tone now that she's fainted.

He shrugs. "Some of the lads went after them. But we haven't heard from them yet," he explains.

Before I have the chance to ask Hunter for more details, a trio of ambulances skid to a stop right outside the bar, paramedics darting into the darkened, smoke-filled street.

My brain rewires itself, pushing past my normal aversion to cops-feds in general-and I rush to the sidewalk with the girl still in my arms.

I scream at one of the paramedics to get his attention. He whirls, looking at me, then the soot-covered woman limp in my arms. He motions me over, but whatever he's shouting at me is blurred by the sirens and the violent spray of water as the fire department drenches her book shop.

I lay her down on a stretcher next to him, making sure I'm as gentle as possible so as not to hurt her even more. She's still unconscious, but I can see her chest moving, so I'm holding onto that.

The paramedics rush to her side to assist her with first aid, and I turn away from the ambulance, finding a police officer and a paramedic waiting for me. Another set of police officers are interviewing Sam and Hunter a few feet away from us, and I prepare myself for the questions I might not have answers to. I shoot them a glare that screams, "Watch your fucking mouths!"

We have some cops in our pockets, but nothing like the Saints. My guys know to be weary, however. Right now, we're the victims, and we have to let these guys do their jobs... while we plot how to do ours and clean up this mess our way. "Were you the one who rescued the woman?" the paramedic asks. "Can you provide us with some details of what happened? Was she hit by something?"

I shake my head. "I don't know. I went-I went inside. She was in the bookshop. By the time I got in, she was surrounded by fire. I imagine she inhaled a lot of smoke, but I don't know if she was hit by anything. She-she was near the front window when the explosion happened."

The paramedic nods, having already gotten what he needs from me and rushing to the ambulance so they can leave for the hospital. The officer keeps staring at me, though, as if he's waiting for more information.

"We were attacked by a gang or maybe an angry customer, I can't really tell," I add before he asks, being as careful as possible so as not to lie but to also not give away too much information about my line of business. I don't need the police snooping around my establishment any more than they have to.

"Did they attack the bookstore as well?" the officer presses, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously.

"No. Not intentionally, I mean. They were trying to hit my bar with the explosive, but somehow it fell on the other side of the vehicle, hitting the bookstore instead." I leave out the information that one of my men was responsible for hitting the enemy's arm with a bullet, making him toss the molotov cocktail in the wrong direction.

The officer doesn't seem to believe me, but I simply shrug, resolute.

"Is there anything else you can tell us to help us investigate this matter further?"

I don't like to be cornered like this, and I guess it's partially my fault for not finding out this attack was going to happen before it went down so we didn't catch this much attention, but right now, the only thing I can do is damage control. I will deal with investigating who the enemies are later.

"Unfortunately, no. Everything happened too fast. I'm sure my employees already told you what they saw, which is pretty much the same as I did," I reply.

"I'd still like to hear your version of it, though," the officer presses.

I clench my jaw, a bit annoyed with this interrogation. But it's not like I can refuse to answer. That would only make him more eager to find out more about me and who attacked my bar.

So, taking a deep breath, I recount what happened.

He doesn't seem to be willing to believe everything I say, pressing for specific answers here and there, and I ponder demanding him to call his boss, who I know is on my payroll, but I don't want to make his life harder. I know he is only doing his job, and there is no way he can find out who attacked us with just the little information we've provided him with.

"Do you have a reason to believe a gang would attack you?" he asks, folding his arms across his chest.

He's testing me. Seeing if I'll slip. This fucker already knows who I am and who owns this bar. But I've been in this business for far too long to fall for his cheap tricks.

"I don't know," I answer with a shrug. "Lots of people come to my bar daily. Someone might have believed they weren't treated as nicely as they'd like and decided to pay us back. Who knows? People are so sensitive these days." "Right...." The officer trails off, pulling out his notebook and writing something down.

I can't read what it is, but this seems to be enough of an interrogation for him, finally, because he looks up at me and nods, turning to meet his colleagues to move aside and discuss their findings as a group.

It seems we are all free to go, so we step back inside of the bar. "Do we have any clue who fucking did this yet?" I snarl under my breath, making sure no one else can hear us. I glance at the bookshop, at the furious flames still licking through the store.

The place looks like a fucking mess, and I can't help but imagine how distraught the book girl will be when she sees this.

If she survives, that is.