Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
But he is and that means the situation is so much worse than I thought. It’s one thing to be unhappy with your organization.
It’s another to break all the rules and talk about family business with an outsider like this.
“I visited Fontana at his house a few weeks back. I went there with Marco Carbone.”
Alfonso’s nose wrinkles. “You met the fucking Ferret, huh?”
“That’s what you call Carbone?”
“Yeah, since he looks like a god damn rodent. Sneaky mother fucker.”
“You’d be surprised at the car he drives. You’d be pissed if you saw the way Fontana lives.”
“Don’t.” He holds up a hand. “Won’t work.”
“Just pointing out the truth. You know they got a new business going?”
Alfonso’s lips tug down. “That’s where you come in, right?”
“I bet you don’t know a damn thing about it. Have you seen any money?”
“Didn’t realize there was any.”
“Fontana not offering you work?” I shake my head and sip the wine. “There are jobs now. Shit you could be doing for him.”
“Stop.” He doesn’t sound like he means it.
“This is what he fucking does. You’ve seen it happen a dozen times, haven’t you? It’s what he tried to do to me back when I was a kid and got my friend instead. When you outlive your usefulness, you’re nothing to him anymore. There’s no loyalty. There’s no love. Fontana takes and that’s all.”
Alfonso rubs his face hard. “Shawn. I remember him. Good kid. Wrong place, wrong time.”
“I carry that every day.”
“You can’t let the bodies you left behind drag you down with them. They’re in the grave, Prime. Shawn’s dead and it wasn’t your doing. Hell, I’m more to blame.”
“You shouldn’t say that.”
He grunts, drinks more wine, and stretches his back. “There’s no point to this. I am what I am, and that’s too damn old to change a thing. Whatever you have cooking with Fontana, leave me out of it.”
“I might call on you. I might want to talk to some of your unhappy friends.”
“I won’t pick up.”
“We’ll see.” I finish the glass and stand. I slip the gun back into my waistband. “You got a nice life here, Alfonso. You should be proud of it.”
“Sometimes I am.”
“I’ll be in touch.”
“I wish you wouldn’t be. You always were trouble, Prime, even back in the day. I used to think I was your mentor, but we both know you outgrew me faster than either of us wanted to admit.”
I turn my back on him. The dying embers of the old days. “I still owe you. That’s why you’re not dead. I’ll be in touch.”
I leave Alfonso, or whatever’s left of him, and find my way back to my car. I sit behind the wheel in the darkness, replaying the conversation over and over. And I keep coming back to the way his hand shook.
It wasn’t fear. I can see it now. Alfonso’s an old mafia head. He wouldn’t be thrown by a fucking gun.
No, that was rage.
Real anger still bubbling under the old man’s surface.
And if he’s mad, what about those others he mentioned?
Fontana’s worse off than I realized. Much, much worse, like maybe his whole outfit’s on the edge of tearing itself to pieces.
And my pipeline’s payments are the only bulwark between him and losing everything.
I’m propping up my god damn enemy.
But it also means I have leverage.
CHAPTER 33
DEANNA
How many times am I going to do this?
Sit up late wondering if my husband’s coming home.
Once is too many. I’m a mess as the sun rises and he’s still not back. I make coffee and stare at a blank TV. My reflection is dire: black bags under my eyes and my hair a frizzy tangle.
I swallow a scream when the door opens. I rush over, clutching my mug, as Prime bolts it shut behind him.
“Where have you been?”
He looks as bad as I do. “Had to go for a drive.”
“Prime, you can’t disappear like that on me. Please, not right now.”
“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I should’ve called. Did you wait up?”
“All night.”
He sighs and looks genuinely regretful. “Wasn’t my intention to scare you.”
“What happened?”
“Let’s get me some of that coffee and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Prime—“
“Please, baby, I’m running on fumes.”
I touch his face, hating myself for being so soft with this man. He deserves an ass kicking. Instead, I kiss him, nibbling his lower lip as his hand presses against the small of my back, aware that he’s dealing with enough right now and doesn’t need me making it any worse.
“Come on, I made the good stuff.”
“That fancy Whole Foods shit?”
“You know it.”
He exhales happily and drinks deeply after I get him a big travel cup. We sit together on the couch and I think he’ll start telling me what happened, but instead he drags me down into his lap, making me straddle him, his hands on my ass cupping tightly.