33. Betrayed?

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They had been hidden behind a clump of trees and concentrated on their work. That must have been why we hadn't heard them before. They were busy spraying various rather ugly graffiti on bins and park benches. Jen could have given them a few artistic tips. However, I didn't feel like marching up to them and telling them that.

Giacomo bent down to my ear.

“They may not have noticed us yet,” he said in a very low voice. “We will try to leave.”

I nodded.

But the very moment we started moving backwards, one of the men turned around and yelled to the others: “Hey, guys! Look what we have here!”

They turned, too, and laughed when they saw us. It was the kind of laugh that was brought on by an overdose of alcohol, or something worse. They came closer, slowly surrounding us. For a moment, I contemplated running. I looked up at Giacomo. He seemed to sense what I was thinking and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

“I will get you out of this and no harm will come to you.” His voice was low, but burning with intensity. “Do you hear me, Mia Angela? I swear, no harm will come to you! I will do whatever it takes.”

I nodded. He turned towards the approaching men again.

“Hey, you!” one of the men shouted. “What the hell are you doing on our turf?”

Giacomo didn't say a word in reply. Instead, he just stepped forward and rolled up his right sleeve to the elbow, showing his forearm to them.

“Let us pass,” he said in a calm voice.

For a moment, they just stared at him. Then, they started laughing again

“Nice ink, man,” one of them shouted. “But what do we care?”

Giacomo's brow furrowed.

“Look closely,” he said, still in this same, calm, commanding voice, I'd never heard him use before. It sent shivers down my back. “And then let us pass.”

One of them threw an empty spray can at him. It went so wide off the mark that Giacomo didn't even bother to duck. Instead, he took another step towards the men. I wanted to scream at him to stay back, to run away with me. He was bigger than any of them, but there were at least a dozen! Yet I couldn't scream. I couldn't move a muscle.

Giacomo let his gaze travel from one to the other. He seemed puzzled.

“None of you is wearing spiderwebs,” he said.

There was a pause in the inane giggling of the drunken men as they all stared at him in surprise. But if there was one person present who found this statement even stranger than layabouts it was directed at, it was me. None of you is wearing spiderwebs? What the hell was he talking about? If that was his idea of getting us out of here without being harmed, I had significantly overestimated the gray gruel in his head.

“No,” one of them finally said. “We prefer shirts and pants.”

And they started laughing again.

“I think we've stumbled on a nut job here,” one of them snorted. And I was beginning to agree with them.

Giacomo went around one of the men, inspecting him from all sides. The man tried to turn with him, and nearly fell down, drunk as he was.

“You don't even wear the same letters! None of you are real!”

One of the men, who seemed to be slightly more sober than the others, stepped in front of him, stopping Giacomo by slapping a hand on his chest.

“Oh, we're real all right,” he growled. “So you'd better stop this bullshit and turn out your pockets real quick, or else...”

There was laughter, louder this time. His friends seemed to like the idea. I didn't. I imagined one of those scumbags grabbing me, searching my pockets, my... Suddenly, I could move again. In a second, I was at Giacomo's side. I didn't care what people said about him. I had heard the fervor in his voice as he said he wouldn't let any harm come to me. I knew he would protect me.

When I looked up at him, there was sadness and pity in his eyes – and he was looking at the man before him! The man, who still hadn't removed his hand from Giacomo's chest.

“Certainly,” Giacomo said.

He took a few dollars out of his pocket and handed them to the man. “That is all I have. Angela, give the man your money.”

“W-what?”

I blinked.

“Give the nice man your money,” he said, his voice very soft.

“Giacomo, maybe I need my ears unplugged, but... did you just honestly ask me to give my purse to that son of a bitch?”

The leader went red in the face and was going to say something, but Giacomo cut him off. Now his voice had a steely quality.

“Give-him-your-money. Now!” The last word was like a whip, and I winced. But I didn't relent. Instead, I raised my chin proudly.

“No!”

Giacomo shrugged. “Very well.” And then, he did something I couldn't have imagined, even in my worst nightmares: He reached over and grabbed me, holding me in his arms in a way that wasn't at all tender. His hand made its way into my pocket and grabbed my purse.

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Hi!

So, what do you you think? Nice cliffhanger? What's Giacomo up to now... ;)

Cheers

Robert

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