Page 44 of Memento Mori
I couldn’t find a single thing in this situation that could bring even the slightest hint of a smile to my face. But I did give him credit for trying.
Chapter Seventeen
THEY WILL NEVER BREAK ME
Antonio
Three hours had passed since I was handcuffed and removed from my home. I spent a few hours in a holding cell with a drunk guy named Mickey Donovan who rambled off the names of all the officers on duty when he was brought in, despite being wasted. While the information was useless to me and my current situation, simply because I wasn’t dealing with the locals but the Feds, Mickey helped the time pass quickly.
I was handcuffed to a table in a room with a one-way mirror, waiting for someone to arrive another hour later. I wasn’t stupid. I knew they were trying to get me to sweat. But I wasn’t like others. Most men in my situation would piss their pants knowing that the Feds were tearing apart their homes. But I’d sat in this place before. When I was younger, I’d been the prime suspect in the murders of two Puglisi soldiers. A wrap I beatalthough I was guilty as hell. Sitting in this room wouldn’t make me break no matter how much Grasso thought it would.
Feeling exasperated, I let out a deep sigh. I was tired and ready to go home. The combination of the powerful odor from the cleaning chemicals, the lingering smell of stale cigarette smoke, and the aroma of old coffee was intensifying my headache and irritation. The cold hard chair was torture on my back, but I bit back the pain while continuing to stare at the one-way mirror, like I’d been doing since they pushed me in here and handcuffed me to the table.
I had a feeling Agent Grasso was standing behind it, hoping I’d break. I was a Rizzo. I was my father’s son. I was Don and boss of bosses for a reason. No dumbass Fed would ever break me.
As the door clicked shut, my focus was immediately drawn to the two Agents who had visited my home a few hours ago. Agents McGuire and smug ass Agent Grasso. I kept my emotions in check as Grasso sat across from me with a smirk on his face. I couldn’t say that same bravado extended to his partner. Agent McGuire looked like he’d shit his pants.
McGuire took his seat and opened a manilla folder before looking at me. “Mr. Rizzo...”
I held up my hand to stop him before he even got started. There was no way I was answering any fucking questions.
“No use in getting started, gentlemen,” I said. “Not until my lawyer arrives.”
“People who are innocent don’t lawyer up,” Grasso said, a little of that confidence from earlier dissipating. “Are you ready to confess your crimes?”
“You can leave me in here, or you can take me back to my cell.” I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter to me. I have the right to remain silent. I have a right to an attorney.”
Grasso stood, flattening his palms against the stainless-steel table. He leaned over, getting in my face, only a few inches separating us. If we’d been on the street, he’d be dead where he stood. Lucky for him we weren’t. Lucky for him, I was cuffed to this damn table. But despite everything, I couldn’t stop the smile that spread across my face. He had an extreme hatred for me. It made me very curious about him. It made me very curious about who he was. This was personal for him. I needed to know why because I’d never heard the name Grasso other than knowing it was associated with Campania, Italy.
“You don’t have any fucking rights in here, Rizzo,” he sneered. “You think you’re in control, don’t you?”
My smile grew larger because I was in control, he just refused to see it.
“Let’s see how much you’re in control when I strip you of everything, including that fuckable wife of yours,” he taunted. “She’d look so fucking good sliding up and down my cock.”
A look of glee spread across his face, while Agent McGuire’s features were covered with shock. Although I remained still, hemust have seen the rage in my eyes. The only weakness I had on this entire fucking planet was Aaliyah, and then this ass wipe thought he could fuck her. Fed or not, that was a death sentence in my book.
The door to the interrogation room swung open and in walked one of my lawyers, Mr. Samuel Donaldson. “Not another word, Antonio,” he ordered, then took the seat beside me and I relaxed further into my seat. It wouldn’t be too long, and I’d be out of here and it wouldn’t be too long, and Agent Grasso would be dead.
“I thought your sister was your attorney?” Agent McGuire asked, confusion marring his face.
Samuel chuckled. “You should be grateful it’s me sitting at this table and not Chantal. She’d eat both of you alive.”
It brought me immense joy to see the reaction of both agents, causing a smile to appear on my face. My sister was a beast in the courtroom. Nothing would ever stick as long as she was in my corner.
“Now, Mr. Rizzo will not be making any statements at this time and all charges have been dropped.”
“Dropped!” Grasso shouted, while disbelief covered Agent McGuire’s face. “There’s no fucking way.”
“Yes, dropped,” Samuel continued. “If you have any questions for Mr. Rizzo, you can reach me or Chantel Rizzo-Douglas atthese numbers only during working hours.” He slid a business card across to Agent McGuire. “And I expect every single item you confiscated from the illegal search of my client’s home be returned immediately to Mr. Rizzo in the same condition you took them.”
“There was nothing illegal about that search!” Grasso shouted. “Or that arrest!”
His rage was all the satisfaction I needed.
“Fucking unbelievable,” Grasso mumbled.
“Well believe it, gentlemen,” Samuel said, not commenting on Grasso’s claim of the search not being illegal. “Now, uncuff my client.”
