Page 29 of Rotten Men

“Gio!” Vince slams his fist on the table, fed up with my bullshit.

“He’s her husband,” I relent, the word poisoning my tongue.

The table grows eerily quiet as I let that bit of new fuckery sink in. It’s a bitter pill for all of us to swallow, but for Vincent, who has always dreamed of putting a ring on Selene’s finger, it’s the cruelest joke of all.

“Fuck,” Dom huffs out, but I’m unable to console him just yet since I’m more concerned with what Vincent’s reaction will be.

Mycapo dei capiis all but rigid stone. No feeling. No emotion. Just a frozen block of ice.

“Vince?” Dominic looks over to him worriedly, but our best friend, our brother, just raises his hand to stop another word from passing through our lips. My own skin starts to grow cold from the frost seeping out of him.

“I want a name,” he finally orders. Hateful, dead eyes mask a broken interior.

Twelve

Dominic

There’s so much you can tell about a man without ever looking in his eyes. Before taking the first flight out to Nashville, I investigated every detail I could on James Lewis’ life. There really wasn’t much to go by, but what I discovered gave me a small inkling of the man I was about to meet face to face.

In his late thirties, he already had lived more than most. After being stationed in Afghanistan when he was just barely in his twenties, he returned stateside as a decoratedwarveteran, only to nurse and then bury his first wife and high school sweetheart. That speaks volumes of his character. Never in my wildest fears did I think Selene would move on with her life by marrying someone other than one of us. But on paper at least, James looks like a candidate worth his salt.

I crack my knuckles, anxious to meet the mysterious man when I hear a buzzer announcing the swarm of inmates coming into the visiting area of the Cheatham County Jail. My eyes wander each orange jumpsuit until they land on the man himself.

Looking like my darker doppelganger, with his scruffy, brown beard covering most of his face, and a wide linebacker physique, he strolls to where I’m sitting with an intrigued sparkle in his chocolate-brown eyes. I don’t stand up to greet him. No use in making nice with a man who has everything I want and will never have. The smile on his face is genuine though, as he sits down opposite me.

“I have to say this is quite a surprise. You’re not who I expected to come to see me,” he announces, and I don’t miss how he, too, seems interested in taking stock of me from head to toe.

“Oh? Who did you expect?”

“Not you,” he continues, his grin turning wider, seeming oddly pleased with my visit. It’s quite disconcerting.

“You know who I am?” I ask, and the man’s smile stretches further if that’s at all possible. He pensively strokes his beard with his handcuffed hands.

“If memory serves me right, you can only be one man. Dominic Mancini. Am I right?”

“Hmm,” I nod stiffly, my concern increasing by the second in regards to what else Red could have told this man about us.

Still, Selene has never been a foolish girl. If James knows who I am, who I really am—amade manthrough and through—then I have to assume that James is at least trustworthy. And if he’s not, there are always ways to make someone like him disappear. Knowledge of syndicate life must be contained within thefamigliaat all costs—the Omertà code demands it. And James, no matter how good he might have been to Selene over the years, is still very much anormal. Andnormalsdon’t live by the same sacred codes we hold dear. They typically have a conscience. And those pesky things usually come with snitching tongues.

“If not me, who else did you expect to see?” I ask, curiously.

“Yesterday I received a call from my lawyer saying he was dropping my case for personal reasons. Then today I was contacted by the best defense attorney in the state, offering to represent me pro bono. I assumed that either Vincent or Giovanni was the mastermind behind such a move and wanted to meet me in person. I don’t mean to offend you at all, but I always had the suspicion they were the brains in your trio,” he adds carefully.

“Not offended at all. They are. I’m just the muscle.” I shrug at his assessment of me.

“Hmm. That might be true, but hearing the way Selene talks about you, I always thought you were more than that. Strength sometimes is more powerful when it comes from the heart, not the body,” he responds calmly. “Regardless of who is behind my new appointment of counsel, you have my gratitude.”

“That would be Giovanni. He likes to meddle,” I grunt, worried that Gio went behind Vincent’s back on this one call.

“I’m sure he does.” James chuckles but then winces once he inadvertently hits his right ribs against the steel table.

“I see you’re getting acquainted with prison life. Was it the guards or one of the other inmates who did that little number on you?” I ask, pointing at his bruised ribcage.

“Some of these fellas don’t take to new faces on their block. They’ll get used to me soon enough,” he laughs off, gaining a bit more of my respect with his relaxed view about taking a beating.

Only once have I had the pleasure of being locked away in a cage, and it ain’t fun in any regard. Guards are usually pricks on a power trip, and the gangs like to show their strength by intimidating a new fish until they have him cowed into submission. No proud man wants to be on their knees for any fucker, and I’m guessing James is no exception.

“So, you came all this way. I’m sure there is a reason behind it. What do you want, Dom?” he asks, getting straight to the heart of the matter.

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