Chapter 2

"Are you okay?" I nodded my head to his question. This man I barely knew saved me from those gangsters and unknowingly to him, from the police. When we lost track of those gangsters, he took me to a small cabin in the woods. I sat on the chair while he went to bring out a first aid kit.

"You own this place?" I asked in a low tone

"Yes." he answered while checking the content in the first aid kit.

"Why did you take me here? We're in the middle of nowhere" I stared at him hoping to get a logical answer

"You're safe, aren't you? By the way, what did you do to those men that made them want to kill you?" He asked curiously

"Probably to keep their secret, I saw them kill a man" I shrugged my shoulders

He nodded his head then continued with his question "I'm assuming they're the ones who shot you?" The man raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." I lied. I couldn't tell him it was the police otherwise he would ask more questions and probably turn me in.

"At this time, you should be indoors, they're so many bad guys out there" he advised, little did he know I'm the bad guy.

"Now turn to your back, let me take a look at your wound" he ordered. I stood up from the chair wincing in pain then I took off my trousers and rested my head on the wall.

"You're bleeding profusely.. we need to take out the bullet and cauterize your wound or I could take you to the hospital" He spoke while examining my wound, with every contact he made with the surrounding area, I grimaced in pain.

"I can't go to the hospital" at the hospital, they'll bring in the police to question me about how I sustained my injuries. I might be a suspect as one of the police shot my thighs, it can't be a mere coincidence that someone with a wounded thigh shows up at the hospital not too long after the incident.

"Then I'll have to take the bullet out myself" he left to get something. I've tolerated a lot of pain, it was part of being in the mafia, we had a pain simulator that tests your level of tolerance and mine happened to be very high, so this should be nothing to me.

He came back with an ice pack, a bowie knife and a bottle of whiskey. "You ready?" He looked up at me. I nodded my head in affirmation.

As soon as he placed the ice pack on my wound, I groaned in pain. He did this to numb the wound. I knew this technique of taking out a bullet. My uncle taught me and I've used it to help several people in Scarface but I've never been the victim. He poured the whiskey into a clean cloth and placed it on the wound to dull the pain for the big step he was about to take. He searched my wound for any vein, it would become a problem for me if he cut any. When he was done, he inserted the bowie knife and brought out the bullet. That shit hurt as hell, I managed to control my screams but it wasn't over yet, he had to cauterize the wound. My leg was already shaking in pain.

He cleaned the blood on the knife, then walked up to the fireplace. He placed the knife in the fire until it was red hot, then, placed the hot knife directly into the open wound, this was going to sterilize the wound and close it up. I gave out a scream.. a single tear escaped from my eye, that had to be the most physically painful shit I've gone through.

"Shh... it's over now" his deep voice was calm.

"Where did you learn to do this?" I asked, he was busy wrapping my wounded thigh with a bandage.

"It's something I have to know" He simply answered, I didn't put much interest in what he meant by that. I watched him as he cleared up. He sterilized the knife and neatly placed it in a drawer.

"I'm Jacqueline, Jacqueline Cattaneo" I answered his unanswered question.

"Lorenzo Hernandez" he introduced himself. That name, Hernandez, seemed very familiar but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Thanks for saving me Enzo" I decided to shorten his name, I think I preferred Enzo more.

"Anytime Jacqueline" his blue eyes pierced into mine. My phone rang, breaking our eye contact

"Uncle" I answered the call

"Ah! Thank goodness" Alonso sounded relieved to find out I escaped from the police, honestly, I wouldn't have done it without Enzo.

"What about Bianca and the others?" I asked

"I've heard from Warren but the rest numbers are unreachable, I've sent out a search party to find them" my Uncle answered

"Don't-" Alonso hung up the call before I could complete my sentence. I didn't want him to send someone after me. I didn't want Enzo to know who I was

"You must be feeling sleepy. You take the bed in the room while I'll sleep here" he offered

"No, you've done enough for me, the couch would be fine by me" I tried to be modest

"Don't be silly, you're the one with a wounded thigh, you should be comfortable" he insisted, I had no option but to accept it.

A few hours later, I heard a banging noise on the door, I struggled to open my heavy eyes. I sluggishly walked into the living room, Enzo was up already, he was looking through the peephole on the door.

"Who's it?" I asked, almost whispering, it couldn't be those gangsters, could it?

"I don't know" he answered. He took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself to open the door but then, the person kicked the door open, revealing a huge, tan-skinned hefty man in dreadlocks.

"Tyron?" My jaw dropped