The Mafia's Nurse

A Safe House is Never Safe

"It's fine," He hisses out in obvious pain, revealing a black garbage back. Its color seems to have faded and the blue strings are tied together and wrapped in duck tap.

"What is that?" I ask and ignore the faint sound of sirens from the main road.

My eyes don't leave the bag as he swiftly moves it between us, almost hiding it.

"Stuff we need," his voice is shaking again and I watch the tremors in his hand as he rips open the back.

For being one limited to one functioning arm, he is actually successful in tiering the black stretchy material but pauses and looks from me to his limp hand.

"I need you to grab a set of keys from inside," he instructs and without hesitation I reach in.

I suppose I could be worried about what the content of this mysterious garbage bag with it's worn out exterior but as I reach in there is no worry for my safety or what I could find. Because Ace wouldn't risk it. He wouldn't risk me. And again that stupid warm sensation spreads through me.

"There should be a duffle bad with a side pocket. The keys will be in there," the instructions and softly spoken as I fumble against fabric which indeed belting's to a diff me bag.

Working quickly I feel the outside zipper and open it brining a ring of only two keys out. It's silver material glowing against the yellow light of the back porch's broken lantern.

"Good girl," Ace murmurs and I look up at him with burning cheeks. Apparently I like his praise.

Shoving that revelation down I offer Ace the keys which he takes and nods for me follow as he walks up the stairs to the back door. I keep hold of the bag hoping it holds more wonders- like a first aid kit.
He does another subtle sweep of the street before using one of the keys to open the door with a groan is it's hinges.

As we step through the door way the fluorescent lights flicker down a tight hallway with grey mail cubbies lining the left side and torn wallpaper on the right. The smell inside the apartment building doesn't seem much better then outside. The harsh scent of weed is heavy but the garbage stench seems to be fading.

We take a sharp turn up a stairwell and pass what I assume is the front doors that looks like a key code access. It occurs to me as we climb the first two flight of stairs that Ace knows exactly where we are going with such a familiar ease. This isn't just a safe house -which is what I assume this is- that he has heard of but one he has used before, maybe multiple times.

I don't dare speak knowing the thin walls are already giving away too much information as our heavy feet move to the second floor. But questions are running rapid in my mind with endless possibilities. My gut tells me that this isn't where we should have gone but my mind only knows two truths.

One- Ace has made it clear that he will protect me and the bullet in his shoulder speaks to that.

Two- I have no other choice.

As we turn off the stairwell at the third floor I hear his heavy breaths become more rapid and shallow.
I reach out for his forearm and squeeze and he briefly looks over his shoulder at me before turning to one of the first doors in the hallway.

He quickly unlocks it with the second key on the ring and shoves the door open trusting me to close and lock it behind us. I make quick work of the door before throwing the bag onto a closest surface.

"There better be a first aid kit in here," I say to him and glance up to see that he has sunk into a old recliner chain the corner of the room next to the window.