Capítulo 13: Chapter 13: That One Rainy Night
December is the rainy season in Los Angeles, and it had just started drizzling lightly.
The two of them stepped out of the nightclub. The air was humid and cold. Marissa shivered and hugged herself, only to have Hardy drape his suit jacket over her, instantly providing warmth. She could still feel his body heat on the jacket.
Marissa looked at Hardy. His nose was strong, his cheeks sharp, and his eyes deep and intense. He was no boyish face; he was a man with a rugged, masculine charm.
They got into the car and started driving away from the parking lot.
Marissa took out a cigarette from her silver cigarette case, lit it, and offered it to Hardy.
He took it without hesitation and placed it between his lips.
"Does the bruise on your face hurt?" Marissa asked. Hardy had taken a couple of punches during his fight with Big Ivan, leaving him with some bruises.
"It's fine. It'll be better by tomorrow," Hardy replied.
"You fight really well," Marissa complimented.
"Your singing is impressive too. Have you trained for it?" Hardy inquired.
Marissa's eyes lit up at the question. She measured her words carefully. "I've always wanted to break into Hollywood and become a star. So, I joined a modeling agency and studied acting and vocal music. The teacher said I had potential, but not much talent. I'm still working on it, taking four vocal classes a week, though it's quite expensive..."
Their conversation continued until they arrived at Marissa's house—a quaint two-story building.
Marissa got out of the car and turned back to the driver's side. "Goodnight," Hardy said.
Marissa looked at the scar on Hardy's cheek and, concerned, offered, "Why don't you come inside? I can apply some medicine to that bruise."
"No need to trouble yourself," Hardy replied.
"It's no trouble. I live alone here," Marissa insisted.
The car stopped, and the two went upstairs together.
The lights on the second floor were turned on, and through the window screens, their silhouettes could be seen. Marissa tended to Hardy's wounds, and soon the room was filled with the gentle, soothing sounds of the night.
By morning, the sun's rays illuminated the room, gently touching Marissa's blonde hair. She woke up to find Hardy had already left, and felt a pang of disappointment.
As she sat up, the blanket slipped away, revealing her perfect curves. At 25, she was at the peak of her beauty.
She walked barefoot to the bathroom, noticing the remains of the night's activities. A smile crept onto her face as she recalled the intense experience. Being with Hardy had been more exhilarating than she'd ever imagined, perhaps because their connection had been purely physical and uncomplicated.
Marissa felt a lingering desire for that feeling.
---
Hardy left Marissa's house in the morning and drove to meet Sean and Ryder, who quickly surrounded him.
"Boss, did you spend the night at Marissa's place?" Sean asked with a smirk.
Ryder also looked on with curiosity.
Hardy glanced at them. "Yes, so what?"
"Wow!" both exclaimed in surprise.
"Boss, you saved the day and won Marissa's heart. That's impressive!" Sean said with admiration.
"Such a beauty—just thinking about it is amazing," Ryder added, looking envious.
Hardy gave both a pat on the head. "Enough with the nonsense. It's getting late. Let's head to the warehouse and collect the goods. Do you have the receipts?"
"Got them," Ryder replied.
The three drove to the tobacco and alcohol warehouse.
After working there for half a month, Hardy was now proficient at ordering, reconciling, and signing for goods. He had also gotten to know many people in the Jewish community.
Alessandro, who was in charge of a neighboring block and had a few men under him, greeted Hardy with a cigarette. "Hardy, I heard there was trouble at the Bunny Girl Bar last night?"
"Yes, Russians," Hardy confirmed.
"The Russians are just a small group. How did you handle them?" Alessandro asked.
"I put them in the cellar for three days," Hardy said.
Alessandro laughed. "Good approach. Let them suffer a bit."
As Alessandro's goods were loaded, Hardy and his men waved goodbye and drove off.
As they left the slum area and drove down a remote street lined with abandoned factories, two trucks appeared ahead, blocking the road.
"Damn, who's blocking the road? Amor, go and clear the way," Alessandro instructed his subordinate.
Amor exited the car and approached the trucks. Suddenly, the truck tarps opened, revealing several black barrels. Amor was caught off guard and was shot on the spot.
Alessandro and the driver were stunned and quickly reached for their guns, but the attackers were faster. Machine guns fired relentlessly at their truck, shattering the windows and hitting the occupants.
Blood pooled as the truck's passengers were instantly killed.
The attackers quickly unloaded the tobacco and alcohol into their vehicles and tossed a grenade into Alessandro's truck before leaving.
Moments later, the truck exploded in a fiery blaze.
---
After packing up the goods, Hardy checked the receipt—$3,620, reflecting a recent increase in sales.
He waved goodbye to supervisor Benson, and Ryder drove away from the warehouse.
The car was moving slowly when they encountered a truck blocking their path.
"Damn it, who's parked in the middle of the road?" Ryder complained, honking the horn repeatedly.
When there was no response, Ryder decided to confront the situation.
But Hardy suddenly felt a strong sense of danger.
"Wrong," he muttered.
He stopped Ryder from getting out of the car. "Ryder, back up quickly!"
"What's going on, boss?" Ryder asked, confused.
"Back up now!" Hardy insisted.
Ryder reversed the car as men on the truck jumped out, brandishing Chicago typewriters.
They opened fire, hitting the truck's windows. Hardy returned fire, hitting one of the attackers despite the distance.
Sean and Ryder also fired back but struggled with their aim.
"Sean, get my rifle!" Hardy shouted.
"Got it, boss," Sean responded, retrieving the rifle from under the seat.
Armed with the rifle, Hardy took aim and fired, bringing down another attacker.
The battle continued with Hardy's precise shooting gradually turning the tide.
Status de energia semanal
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