Page 58 of The Woman on the Jury

“Did they happen to scan his ribs too?” I asked.

“Yeah. He’s got one break. The others are just bruised. He’s wrapped up with elastic bandages and under strict orders—from both the hospital and Salvatore—to keep his ass as immobile as possible.”

“How much you wanna bet that shit ain’t happening?” I asked.

“Figured you’d want to drop in to see for yourself,” Miko said, holding the car door open for me.

“Yeah. Then we gotta go see Lorenzo again,” I said.

I climbed in, taking my phone out of my pocket, and placing a breakfast order for Halle, then texting one of the guards to go pick it up when it arrived.

Venezio was just an associate in the organization. So I wasn’t surprised when Miko parked on a block full of almost identical apartment buildings.

Nothing in the city was cheap.

But he wasn’t paying much for his place, judging by the location and building that didn’t even have a locking front door.

“Fifth floor,” Miko said. “Elevator is busted.”

“How the fuck did you get him upstairs?” I asked, brows raising.

“It wasn’t fun. Especially since he can’t really use crutches either.

“Christ,” I grumbled, starting up with Miko.

The stairwell was filthy, scattered with scraps of garbage, and even a discarded fucking heroin needle.

“There’s kids in this fucking building,” Miko grumbled, picking up the needle carefully by the edge, and sticking it inside a discarded soda bottle, screwing the top on tight, and bringing it up with us until we passed a garbage shoot to toss it down. “Here,” he said when we finally made it in front of an apartment door, the number askew.

“You have a key?” I asked as Miko fished one out of his pocket.

“Only because I stole his to make one,” Miko admitted, sticking the key in the lock, and pushing the door open.

Venezio’s apartment looked like he’d been robbed.

Meaning there was hardly fucking anything in it.

Nothing on the counters in the kitchen, not even a coffee maker. No end tables. No curtains or rug. And just one oversized black recliner and a TV across from it, set on top of two TV dinner tables.

Venezio himself was on said recliner, staring at the TV, but I got the impression that he wasn’t actually looking at the screen, just in that general direction.

“Steal anything else from me?” Venezio asked, glancing over in our direction.

“Yeah, ‘cause there’s anything else to steal,” Miko shot back as he set Venezio’s keychain down on the kitchen counter. “Besides, how’d you think I was supposed to move your car?” he said.

“Fair enough,” Venezio said, shrugging.

“How you holding up?” I asked.

“Fucking living the life,” he said.

“You got anyone to check in on you?” Miko asked. “A ma? Sisters? Anyone?”

“Don’t got family,” Venezio said, and Miko looked taken aback.

Coming from a big family himself, that was unfathomable to him.

“You got family,” Miko corrected him. “You got anything to eat yet today?”

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