Page 130 of The Man with a Treasure

“Where did this come from?” The package read: To the Angel of the Night.

She sighed, pointing at the address. “It was in this house’s P.O. Box. I told Bertha at the Post Office we had a movie producer staying here.”

“Damn. You’re quick on your feet, Mae.” I pulled out five-hundred dollars from my wallet. She tried to refuse the tip, but I insisted. “Buy your granddaughter a present.”

“Presley. Her name is Presley.” She handed me the package.

My ears pounded with adrenaline. The package was from Italy, but an address I didn’t recognize. “That sounds like a strong name for a little girl. I bet she is as strong as her grandmother.”

I just wanted back inside.

“She sure is. Be safe, Angel.” My eyes ripped from the package and snapped to hers. “That’s some nickname you have.” She winked and headed to her car.

My heart raced as I looked back to the package while Mae drove away. A knock on the window next to me made me jump. Sal lifted his chin.

Back inside, we all stared at the package I had placed on the kitchen island. It was like we were too shocked and scared to proceed. Would it be a warning from an enemy? Was it from family? Did we need to run? Who had found us?

Reaching around Scarlett, Sal tapped the tip of Tesla’s barrel to the package. “I’m antsy as fuck. Open it or I’m shoving her in the car and slamming down on the gas. Not fucking around, Angelo.”

Scarlett, over her shoulder, had scared eyes as she peered up to Sal.

Setting my own gun on the counter, I wiped a shaky hand down my trimmed beard. “Fuck.” I gazed at Scarlett but told Sal, “I’ll open it on the balcony. Take this beauty into my bedroom and shut the door.”

Scarlett was pale. “What did you say?” She looked back at Sal. “What did he say?”

Sal pulled her closer to his chest, ignoring her. “You think it could be an explosive?”

Anything was possible at this point. “Our family felt we were in so much danger they preferred we break all contact. You tell me.”

After a silent moment, he pushed Scarlett toward me. “You take her. I’ll go open it.”

Never going to happen.

In case this was my last time holding her, I kept Scarlett tight against my chest while demanding, “Sal, as your superior, I am giving a direct order.”

An ugly laugh burst free. “Fuck you. Give me the Goddamn package.”

I loved my best friend.

My voice softened, “As my brother, I am asking you to protect her.”

His mouth fell open. I’d never called him that before. He had a brother. I never wanted to replace him, but Sal was indeed family to me.

“Angelo… I can’t.” He appeared tortured. “My dream.”

My ears began to ring again. “What about it?”

His shoulders sagged. “A son. She will give you a son.”

Everything went still. Every single fucking thing.

My dream. The one of me lifting a box and finding a baby with blue eyes. It wasn’t Scarlett at all. It was my son.

With immense sympathy, Sal nodded, holding out his hand. “Give me the package.”

Now knowing Sal was never going to willingly let me go onto that balcony, and I could never send him into avoidable danger, I kissed Scarlett, hard, then spun her around and shoved. Before Sal knew what was happening, I had my gun aimed at his head, right above Scarlett’s. She screamed, “No!” Her back was to Sal’s chest. “Angel! No shoot! No shoot!”

A tear slipped down my face. “Then make him go to my room, baby. Now. Go.”