Noble Intentions: Season Four by L.T. Ryan

through the unlocked front door. Coffee and bacon and toast led him to the kitchen where his youngest sister,
    Esmeralda, stood in front of an open refrigerator. Her screams turned to tears when she realized it was her brother, not a deranged and bloodied killer,
    standing in her kitchen. A nurse by trade, she bandaged him up, and strongly encouraged him to come to the hospital for stitches. Paolo had declined,
    saying he needed rest first.
    So he had eaten bacon and toast and passed on the coffee. Esmeralda left for work and told him she'd be back after six that evening. He objected to her
    leaving, but there was no convincing her otherwise. He hadn't the strength. Paolo found the guest bedroom and collapsed onto the plush mattress. It was
    well worth the money he'd given her to buy it. The whole house, as a matter of fact. It had all been his graduation present to his sister.
    Sunlight crept through the slits in the blinds. Fingers of light inched across the room, moving with the sun, slicing across Paolo's face. He opened his
    eyes and winced at the brightness. The intense pain when he attempted to roll over roused him from bed. What time was it? He picked up his phone, fully
    charged now, but still off. With his finger on the power button, he reconsidered powering the device on. He could be tracked through the cell towers. Less
    of a concern the night before. But a lot could happen during the morning hours. Better to leave it alone, for now.
    But, he wondered, did the provider have the capability to track his movements prior to the phone losing power?
    He made a note to Google the question after waking fully.
    Paolo found the kitchen and poured cold coffee into an over-sized mug, so large it almost didn't fit into the microwave. While the coffee reheated, he
    searched the contents of the refrigerator for something simple to eat. Two of his teeth were loose. How? He couldn't recall. Maybe when he'd head butted
    Milano repeatedly. The resulting pain made the thought of having to chew unbearable. In the end, he took two bananas and a handful of blueberries and
    dropped them into a blender. The sound of the machine intensified the knifing pain in his skull.
    With coffee and smoothie in hand, Paolo made his way through the living room and out to the back deck. It wasn't as humid in Ithaca. Still hot, though.
    Esmeralda's backyard sloped down to a small fence. Behind it, a pond. The breeze blew across the pond, carrying the odor of mud and stale water. A mother
    duck and her fluffy chicks floated by. The trees and bushes hummed with insects.
    For many, tranquility. For Paolo, boredom.
    In between sips, he held the chilled glass containing the smoothie to his cheeks, nose, forehead. The relief didn't last long.
    Watching the ducks swim away, he recalled the chain of events that led to him hiding out at his sister's place. Had the bodies been found? Had the fire
    scorched the bodies sufficiently to delay identifying Milano and Endrizzi? Again, he wanted to reach for his phone, cut it on, and start making calls.
    Impossible. He couldn't trust anyone now. No amount of fraternity could outweigh the command and money of Charles. Any contact he had outside the
    organization also knew Charles, which meant they were useless to Paolo. If word got back that Paolo was alive, there was no telling what lengths Charles
    would go to in an attempt to lure him out of hiding.
    Be invisible. For now.
    He spent another hour in the sun. Unmoving. His wounds soaking up the heat.
    The ducks circled around the pond twice. Of the few neighbors that had visibility into Esmeralda's backyard, only one had come outside. The old woman
    walked down to the water and tossed several chunks of bread toward the passing ducks. Momma and chicks circled around the floating loaf and devoured it
    while the old lady trudged back up her sloping yard and disappeared into her house.
    A short while later, Paolo rose and went inside, too. The heat hadn't gotten to him as much