Page 62 of Thief of my Heart

I’d asked Gina to write a letter to the judge on my behalf, hoping I could manage probation instead of prison time. She hadn’t come through despite being the only one I could turn to back then. The judge had taken one look at me, wished out loud he had the power of mandatory minimums, and slapped me with a two-year sentence with no time off for good behavior.

It was as if my bitterness poisoned the whole room.

“Leave us,” Lis told Gina as he removed her arm from his shoulder.

He didn’t even look at her, and neither did anyone else, not even her brother. Judging by the gold hanging from her neck and ears, I had a feeling Lis was paying for the privilege of obedience in every way possible. Gina could play mob wife all she wanted, but it was obvious to everyone that she wasn’t nothing but a cheap side piece.

I chuckled. Gina’s eyes flamed.

She opened her mouth as if to snap at me, but the older man’s expression shut her mouth.

Even so, she waved at me on her way out. Every other man in the room watched as she sauntered away, swaying her hips in that way I knew very well.

I didn’t watch, though. It was like trying to go back to day-old burgers after you’d tasted a good steak for the very first time.

The door closed behind her, and I faced the group, which felt weirdly like déjà vu. It was always going to come to this, I realized. I had to stand before the parole board to get out of Rikers. Now I had to stand before these guys to be free in my own damn neighborhood.

“Michael Scarrone,” said Lis after he took a sip of his espresso. “You’re a hard man to track down.”

“Don’t know why,” I replied. “I’ve been working since I got out, but not hiding anywhere. I’m straight now and good with that.”

“He don’t listen,” Paul spat beside me. He had not, I noticed, been asked to sit down. “Arrogant prick thinks he’s too good to come and pay his respect?—”

“That’s enough,” Lis snapped. “A man should speak for himself.” He turned back to me. “You were asked to come to a meeting with Riccardo and my partner. You did not. Why?”

I managed to stop glaring at Paul long enough to answer Lis’s question. “I didn’t see a reason to come.”

“The invitation wasn’t enough? It’s rude to ignore.”

Ricky snickered. I shot him a glare, then looked back at Lis. I had a fine line to walk here. A boss like him loved nothing more than to make an example. But he wouldn’t respect a pussy, either.

“I kept my promise to Mancuso,” I said. “Brought in the cars he needed. Served my time when I was caught. Kept my trap shut.”

Lis nodded. “It’s true. You did. This was admirable.”

The other Albanians in the room grumbled their agreement.

“Well, good,” I said. “So we’re square, Mancuso and me.”

We weren’t square. I’d never be square with these crooked fucks. Would have served them right if I’d snitched on them too, seeing as they’d cost me my brother. My whole fuckin’ life.

I didn’t owe Sly Ricky, Bertie Mancuso, or Lis Antoni one raw cent.

“Yes,” Lis began, and I was already looking toward the door when he said one last word that spilled the end. “Except.”

Dread draped around my shoulders like a cape. “Yeah?”

He glanced around the table. “Problem is…what’s the problem, Riccardo?”

Sly Ricky offered a grin, one that showed a gold tooth in the back of his mouth and probably earned him his nickname. “He knows too much.”

“He knows too much,” repeated Lis like a grade school teacher parroting their students.

“I don’t know anything,” I insisted. “And that’s what I’ll always say. I kept my end of the bargain, even after Ricky here welched on our deal.”

“I didn’t welch on nothin’!” Ricky sputtered, red-faced, when Lis pivoted that sharp gaze onto him.

“My kid brother’s grave says otherwise.” I wasn’t yelling, but I was close. “Tommy should be alive and well, but they didn’t do his surgery because you wouldn’t pay up.”

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