Page 122 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
Legends in their own minds, for sure. “I didn’t see that until tonight, but I got it now. That’s why I came to say I’m sorry.” I plunk the bottle of pricy scotch in the middle of the table and motion to a cocktail waitress for two glasses. “This is my way of saying it.”
Rudy’s beady eyes go wide. “This is a fucking expensive bottle of booze.”
I nod. “On me.”
Sal is more cynical. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch. Tomorrow afternoon, the three of us should sit down and discuss the side-hustle operation. Paulie got it off the ground, but it needs more finesse. You’re smart enough to know that, and I think you can help me.”
Sal cocks his head. “What’s in it for us?”
“Cash and pussy. What else is there in life?”
Rudy laughs again, sounding an awful lot like Beavis and Butt-Head. “Exactly.”
The other mobster scowls.
Damn, I hate a guy with short man’s disease.
“Upward mobility,” Sal finally says. “That’s what we want.”
“Absolutely. I totally get that. Someday, Donzelli is going to retire, you know?” If I don’t plant a bullet in him first. “Paulie…he’s been around a long time, but he’s not young. What this organization needs is someone with new ideas. Vision, right? Along with the brawn”—I gesture to Rudy—“and the balls”—I nod Sal’s way—“to implement them. You’ve been hitching your wagon to Paulie’s. I know you three go back a long way. But Donzelli has basically picked me to run the show after he’s gone. It would be smarter if you hitched your wagon to mine.”
The cocktail waitress sets down the empty glasses with a wink and a smile. I peel her off a twenty and wink back. Then I pour for the two nimrods.
“Think about it,” I murmur, then scoot out of the booth.
“Where you going?” Sal demands.
“You’re not drinking with us?” Rudy sounds almost sad.
“Nah.” I slap him on the back. “I’m going to give you two time to talk over that bottle while you listen to what’s-her-name with the tits. I’ll hold down the fort. No one left upstairs?”
Rudy shakes his head. “Getting late now. You know how it is.”
“Yep.” Donzelli and his cohorts are getting comfortable and cocky. That works in my favor. “Drink up.”
I loiter long enough to see them each down a glass and pour another. I’m tired as fuck, and I’m dying to go upstairs and curl up with Kristi for a few hours, maybe reenact her getting pregnant…
Holy shit. We’re having a baby. That’s a lot to wrap my head around, but that’s a really fucking important reason to focus. Sammie, then Paulie’s command center in the basement. Hopefully, Red and I will be alive to reminisce later.
Suddenly, the cell in my pocket buzzes. I pull it free to find a text from the guards on the eighth floor.
Donzelli just called. Wants you to take the merch to that client.
Fuck. The boss not thinking with his dick puts a kink in my plans.
Tell him I’m on it.
I type back, then jog my way back upstairs, my thoughts racing. I’ve got to be smart about this since my operational window of opportunity is pretty much now.
On the eighth floor, I make my way to 832 and let myself in. The brunette I saw in the cage in the third-level basement earlier huddles in the corner now, rocking back and forth, eyes dilated and enormous.
It hurts me to see how fucking terrified she is.
When she catches sight of me, she scrambles to her feet and raises her fists like she intends to fight me. It would be funny…if it weren’t so damn heartbreaking.
Shutting the door behind me, I approach her slowly. “Sammie?”
