Eros: A Game Of Wits (A Mafia Novel)

41. Stranger On The Scene

Florence was sitting at the edge of the medical van, following the instructions of the medic with mild attentiveness. The sun had subsided from view, obscured by the humongous buildings surrounding them- the shadows shading them made the red and blue lights even more visible as they flashed around them. The dark veil of the night wouldn't fall until a few hours though.

The police were fast and the media even faster. The area was closed by the authorities yet the place was bustling with noise anda slight upheaval. Some of the bank's employees were escorted by the police. She guessed for them to either interview them or question them. Outside of the 'DO NOT CROSS' line, a reporter was covering the story, being the lucky one to arrive first on the scene.

Florence turned her face away; she didn't want to be seen.

She observed, lost in her thoughts as the doctor continued to examine her and treating her hand. Previously, she had given the girl a few information and instructions on how to remedy her bruises but there was nothing more she could do. Florence listened and merely nodded. Luckily, she hadn't broken, nor fractured anything. Her hand would trouble her for a few days, as she was informed, but nothing she couldn't handle- the burn wasn't so bad.

The bank robbers were another story...

From what she had ascertained, they would need some time. They had taken a good beating, yet for the most part, they would be alright. They were brought out in cuffs by the police and they couldn't contain their dirty looks as they passed her.

In all honesty, she didn't feel repulsed. She didn't feel the need to sneer at them over her victory, nor did she feel like returning the same dirty look they send her way. Instead, she met their eyes with no expression whatsoever, trying to suppress the pity she felt from showing. They were simply on the wrong side of this coin.

Finally, the medic put down the girl's hand with a vigorous smile. "There you go. You're all set."

Florence, returning a less sanguine smile, got on her feet. Moaning softly, she came down from the ambulance, clutching her sore side. Looking around, she noticed Lance speaking with one of his elders. His face was serious if not a bit stressed, speaking with soft but urgent gestures. She guessed that the situation was in the balance for either him or her.

She was aware he had some explaining to do after everything that had happened- and she could also feel the weight of her own actions now. People were saved- for the most part- but she still was in a predicament. If the cop's position was in jeopardy then it was because of her and Florence had already decided that she would defend him, no matter what.

She only pinned her hopes on not getting in trouble for it, and hopefully she wouldn't be questioned further, although that appeared to be out of the question. She was sore and tired, sweaty and dirty and all she wanted was to go home, take a shower and rest.

Realizing she was staring at the cop for way too long, she turned her head to the side. She noticed the News reporter speaking with one of the employees from the bank. Just then they turned towards her. Her reaction was almost immediate- she veered around and slapped her hand over her mouth. That was the last thing she needed; attention.

Taking her unawares, a shirt was placed over her shoulders. She flinched and glanced to the side, only to see Lance. His smile, weary but warm. He readjusted the jacket over her and she looked down, slightly flustered. "Thank you," she muttered with a low sigh.

The man put his hands in his pockets, focusing his gaze in the distance. "I've already spoken with my seniors; your name won't be mentioned." She nodded. "But..." and that was when she really started listening. "They want you to come by the station to be asked some questions and give your statement." Lance watched as her spirit crumbled, letting her shoulders drop. He almost laughed at that puppy face she put on.