Page 740 of The Tempted

For a split second I wonder why Mike gave a fuck if Vic was read his last rights, but as quickly as the thought crossed my mind it disappears. Riggs pulls the warden out of the car, dragging him by his feet onto the asphalt.

“Do you have any idea how much fucking trouble you’re going to be in?” the warden spits at Riggs.

“Do you have any idea how much troubleyou’regoing to be in when I grab the piece of ass you’ve been hiding and bring her straight to your unsuspecting wife?” Riggs fires back. “Now shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in your ass.”

“What do you want? I’ll give you whatever cash I have. Take my watch, it’s a presidential Rolex,” the warden cries.

Riggs lifts the warden’s wrist and inspects the expensive arm candy he was sporting.

“Pretty nice watch for a man on the state’s payroll,” Riggs comments, dropping his hand before slamming his boot against the man’s chest, keeping his gun aimed at the warden. “I bet I know how you can afford that sweet watch and how you pay the mortgage on the fancy house you keep your wife in or the dope apartment you stash your whore in on the Upper East Side.”

I step into the warden’s view, kneeling beside him so he can get a better look at my face, my blue eyes pierce him like daggers.

“Warden, you remember me don’t you?”

His eyes flicker before narrowing as he swallows hard.

“Bianci, inmate number two-six-eight-three-five-nine,” he recites.

The motherfucker had the memory of an elephant, reciting my inmate number without error. That’s right, me and warden Valez go way back. Back to the days when I was incarcerated.

Back in the day, Vic couldn’t afford to send someone inside with me, with Val murdered and his organization vulnerable he needed all his manpower on the streets alongside him. He may have thrown my ass in jail without regard for the life I was leaving behind but he kept me alive. He greased Valez’s palm to ensure my safety while I was locked up, a fact I didn’t discover until recently. I was untouchable while I was in jail and no rival organization stood a shot of getting close to me.

If he really wanted me out of his daughter’s life all he had to do was squash his deal with Valez and the G-Man’s men could’ve taken me down. Yet here I am, free and married to his daughter.

Vic did that for me.

Now this one was for him.

“That’s right,” I said. “Now, I want you to listen carefully. My man over here he’s got a slippery finger and some daddy issues he’s looking to unleash.”

“What the fuck man?” Riggs says, smacking me upside the head with the heel of his gun.

“See? He’s a loose fucking canon. It’d be a shame if he shot you before you had a chance to do as I say.”

“Look, I’ve done my best for Pastore while he’s been in my prison.”

“I know and the family appreciates all you’ve done this far but we have a few more requests we need you to make happen.”

“I can’t do shit about his transfer, the Bureau of Prisons controls where he goes and because he’s ill, they are carting him to a medical facility.”

I knew all about that. What Valez didn’t know was we took care of that too. The Bureau had changed the location of Vic’s transfer, dragging his ass further away from New York and not to the prison that the G-Man was in. Good ol’ Riggs came through again, tampering with G-Man’s medical records and diagnosing the motherfucker with testicular cancer, placing him in the same prison as the Vic.

“It’s not about the transfer,” I explain. “Vic will be in Otisville until the end of the week and we intend to get our money’s worth out of you.”

“Do as he says motherfucker. I’ve got a man sitting on your whore’s doorstep and another one hiding in the bushes of your home, spying on your wife as she showers,” Riggs threatens.

“What do you want?” Valez growls.

“For starters, you’re going to reinstate Vic’s phone privileges. He’ll be allowed to call his wife as much as he wants until he gets on that bus,” I begin.

“Fine,” he hisses.

“I’m not finished,” I sneer as Riggs bends down, inching the tip of his gun against Valez’s mouth.

“No more interruptions, asshole,” Riggs reprimands.

“As I was saying, his daughters will visit him, the last time they see their father won’t be in a crowded visitor’s room with every Tom, Dick and Harry doing time watching them say goodbye. You’ll provide a private room for their final visits. You can keep a CO in the room with them but they’ll be allowed to touch their father, hold his goddamn hand if they want to. Same goes for his wife, when Mrs. Pastore comes up to say goodbye to her husband she’ll get the same respect,” I instruct.

---