Page 82 of Caged Bliss

Chapter 41

Angelo

Iwalk down the cold back hall of the Cook County Jail and pause a few feet from the last cell on the left. The corrections officer who led me here is a younger, skinny guy with bad skin and a twitchy eye named Eric. He owes the Bianco Famiglia thousands of dollars thanks to his drug habit, and we’re the only reason he’s working this job instead of sleeping on the streets.

“Five minutes,” he says quietly, looking over his shoulder. “Okay, just five minutes, okay Mr. Bianco? Any longer and I can get fired.”

“We wouldn’t want that.” I stare at him for a long few seconds. “Are you sure nobody’s going to bother me?”

“No, definitely not. Cameras are off too, as requested. But any longer than five minutes and someone’s going to notice, right? So please, just five.”

“Start a timer for me.” I step past him toward the cell and stop outside of the bars. “I won’t need long.”

Eric grunts and walks back to the guard booth. I stare in at Claudia’s uncle and he stares back at me. He looks gaunt and tired, his skin pale, his eyes sunken, and his hair thinning. The prison jumpsuit doesn’t do him any favors.

Suddenly the bars buzz then open with a loud thunk. I step forward and Rodney sits up straight on his bunk, looking past me over my shoulder. “What’s going on?” he asks.

“Do you remember me?”

“You’re the guy with Claudia.” He shakes his head, frowning. “Did she make bail for me? Are you here to get me out?”

“No, Rodney, that’s not why I’m here.” I step forward, looming over him. “From this moment on, you are never going to contact her again.”

“What?” His eyes narrow. “She’s my fucking niece. I took her in and—hey, how the hell are you in here?”

I step closer. We’re inches apart. I can smell his unwashed reek. “I know what you did to her, and I know what you did to her sister. You will never contact either of them ever again.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you?—”

I punch him hard in the mouth. He grunts in shock and his head snaps back, thumping against the wall behind him. I hit him again, and again, before stepping back to give him some room.

He’s gasping for air as he sits up straight. “Guards,” he says, trying to shout. “Please, guards, someone?—”

I stomp hard on his ankle. It makes a very satisfying crack, and when he starts to scream, I grab his pillow and pin it over his face.

He thrashes and tries to get me off, but I bring a knee into his gut and hold him down. The old fucking drunk barely has the strength to paw at me. Poor Rodney, this pathetic piece of human slime, got picked up when the cops found him wasted outside of a late-night convenience store covered in his own puke and harassing a bunch of teenage girls that stopped on their way home from a concert. I’m tempted to keep the pillow where it is and let him suffocate, but Eric probably can’t cover up murder for me.

I release Rodney. He gasps for air, both his hands flying to his throat, as I step away from the cot and toss the pillow on the floor.

He moans, rolling onto his side. “Please, don’t,” he says, sounding miserable and pathetic.

“You will never see Claudia or Serena ever again. You will never contact them. You will never so much as think about them. Because if you do, the next time, I will kill you.”

“Who are you?” he asks, blood pouring from his nose.

“I was able to walk into your cell without a guard around, and I could’ve killed you without much effort. Imagine what else I can do on the outside? This is your first and only warning. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he says, crying now. “I understand.”

“Good.” I hit him again, because he deserves it, and a second time, because I feel like it, and leave him a bloody and moaning mess.

I walk down the hall and nod at Eric. The cell buzzes and the bars slam shut behind me. “Four minutes,” he says, nodding appreciatively. “Not bad. Mr. Bianco. Did you get what you needed?”

“I believe I did.” I wipe my bloody knuckles on my shirt.

Eric glances down with a smile and gestures down the hall. “Wonderful. If you’ll come with me?”

Claudia’s sitting low in the seat of my truck in the parking lot. I join her and we don’t say anything for a little while. The jail’s a big brick and concrete structure surrounded by construction equipment, complicated fencing, barbed wire, and windows that won’t ever open. There aren’t many other cars this late.

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