I walked around the bed, pushing down the sting of his words and focusing on what I was there to do.
“That man preys on girls,” he rambled. “Brandon’s going to drop the charges on the guy and then we’re out of here. I’m taking my family and getting the fuck out of here before another kid becomes a victim.”
“Let’s get something straight, Boots doesn’t own you…. I do. And you’re not going anywhere until I say so, until I’m sure Blackie’s out and then I’ll decide what you can and cannot do, where you can and cannot go,” I growled.
“He’s already threatened my daughter twice,” he cried as I started for the door.
“Don’t like it do you? It’s not a good feeling when someone takes advantage of your girl is it?” I turned around and point my finger between his eyes. “Stay put or I’ll deliver your daughter to him myself.”
I glanced over at Brandon debating whether to acknowledge the poor slob in the bed, deaf and barely able to function. I decided to let it go---his mother would wipe his ass for a long while. Blackie took care of him and took care of him good.
I should probably thank him.
After I kick him in the balls.
I pulled the door open, and the mother lifted her head, wiped her tears and brushed past me as she ran into the room.
“Relax lady, they’re still breathing,” I called over my shoulder before turning to Wolf who followed her. I placed my hand against his chest. “Where do you think you’re going?”
He looked at Lacey.
“We got the confession now it’s time to deliver the sentence,” he explained, staring back at me like I was half tanked. “Don’t sweat it, Bulldog, I’ll be quiet.”
“No need. Blackie gave the kid his sentence already,” I muttered, turning around to stare at my daughter leaning against the wall, holding her man’s ticket to freedom in her hand.
“Are you going to call the lawyer or should I?”
I walked over to her, took the pad from her hand and shoved it under my arm.
“I’ll handle it,” I insisted.
“Make sure,” she said, rising on her tiptoes to press a kiss to my cheek. She used to do that a lot when she was little. She also used to stand on my shoes and beg me to dance with her.
Yeah, I should’ve paid more attention to the younger years.
I wrapped my arms around her and gave her a slight squeeze before she pulled out of my arms and started down the hallway.
The older years sucked.
I watched her walk away and cleared my throat, pushing down the lump in my throat.
She’s not your little girl anymore, my maker taunted.
She’ll always be my little girl.
Chapter Thirty-eight
I followed the guard through the cell block and immediately noticed the differences between here and Rikers. First, this place was fucking huge and housed twice as many inmates and double the amount of correction officers. The inmates here didn’t give two fucks about anything, most of them knew they’d die here and the few that weren’t doing life sentences, would probably die before they busted out. They were rowdy and taunted the officers as they walked me to my cell. The guard behind me stopped at one of the cells on the way, slipped the inmate a book and took one back in return. I glanced over my shoulder and watched as he opened the book, dipped his eyes to the page he opened it to and smiled before closing it again.
No wonder they carted my ass here.
This place was fucked.
The guards were on the take and the one's inmates didn’t have in their pockets were the ones who were fucked. I had no doubt that Victor ran this place, both the inmates and the fucking men who were supposedly guarding them. He probably makes a pot of sauce in his fucking cell on a Sunday.
The officer in front of me stopped and turned to his left as he reached for his keys.
“Delivery,” he commented as he unlocked the cell, stepping aside as I turned to the man behind the bars. My eyes zeroed in on the perfectly white canvas sneakers before they traveled the length of the blue jumpsuit and landed on the aging face of Victor Pastore.
His hair had grayed since the last time the newspapers snapped a picture of him but it was immaculately styled, not a silver stain out of place and slicked back with a half a ton of hair gel. He was thinner than when he went in and his normally tan complexion was still olive in skin tone but much paler, even paler than when I insisted Jack bring me to meet the man all those months ago when we first went head to head with Jimmy Gold.
Victor stood, shoving one hand in his pocket, mimicking the way he used to unbutton his designer suit and hide one hand in his pants pocket as he walked. He had that walk, the media used to love to catch him leaving the court house because his stance alone sold papers and made ratings. He was cocky, arrogant and a goddamn legend people worshipped.
It didn’t matter he was a gangster and his record spoke for his crimes, he was a good guy to the people he loved and his neighborhood. He didn’t let the power go completely to his head, sometimes he managed to keep it humble, which these days was unheard of.
His reputation made it hard for people to believe the man in a thousand-dollar suit, playing stick ball in the street with the neighborhood kids, spent the night before robbing a truck and killing the driver, leaving is body on the side of the road. The stories were endless and my personal favorites were the ones told about the Vic from years ago when Michael Valente Senior was his underboss—those two were a force to be reckoned with. Yeah, those were my favorite, when the mob was still the mob and Vic and Val ran New York with old school values.
After, Val died, Victor wasn’t the same man he became harder as his quest for revenge consumed him. Jimmy was elected his underboss. I’m not really sure how that works, if it’s something Vic chose himself or if his organization sat down and took a vote. I’m going to say there isn’t democracy in the Pastore Organization. There is Vic and then there’s everyone else under him enforcing his final rule.
I looked over my shoulder at the guard who slipped him a paper brown bag, wondering for a moment what determined if you got a book or a bag full of goodies from Santa Claus over here. Yeah, Vic ran shit, even behind bars he had the correction officers enforcing his command.
“Thank you,” Victor said, opening the bag and peering inside before nodding in satisfaction and turning his eyes back to mine. “I’ve been expecting you,” he smirked, glancing over my shoulder at the two guards. “I’ll take it from here boys,” he said, dismissing them.
“You got it, Vic, be back in an hour to bring you to church,” the first officer promised as I stepped inside and he closed the cell door.
I dropped the few belongings they gave me onto the bottom bunk and turned around, raising an eyebrow at Victor.
“Church?”
“Man needs God when he’s locked away for the rest of his life,” he explained. “He repents his sins and hope that changes where he ends up after he takes his final breath,” he continued.
“I bet he does,” I murmured, knowing those words would stick with me for the rest of my life. They were the words of a man who spent his whole life defeating the odds and now staring at him, his luck finally had run out.
A man up until a few weeks ago I was destined to become.
“Jack came up about a week ago to catch me up to speed with our situation,” he said, as he bent down and stripped his thin mattress of its sheet.
“Glad, he found time for a visit,” I gritted. “Look, Vic I’m not really sure what the plan is or if there even is one—
He turned around, his gray eyes pinned me with a hard stare.
“There’s always a plan,” he interrupted. “We’ll have you out of here by the end of the week as long as you play by my rules,” he paused, cocked his head the side and started again. “Heard there’s a certain someone on the outside waiting for you.”
I drew my eyebrows together as I crossed his arms and deciphered his words, wondering which en
emy he was referring too, not surprised that he would have intel on that sort of thing.
He smiled, revealing perfectly straight teeth as he winked at me knowingly.
“Your choice woman has my friend up in arms,” he teased.
“I bet he had a mouthful to say,” I mumbled.
“He voiced his concerns,” he said as he tied one end of the sheet around one of the metal bars. “Take it from me, it’s hard on a man when he looks at his daughter and realizes she’s all grown up and you’re not the only man in her life anymore.”
He walked to the other end of the bars and tied the other corner of the sheet around a bar, covering the bars, before he turned back around and wiped his hands clean.
“You’ve met my daughters, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” I confirmed, watching as he walked over to the small sink and grabbed a photo taped above it of his two daughters, Nikki and Adrianna. “And your wife,” I added. “You’re a lucky man.”
“Yes, I used to be,” he agreed and brought his index finger to his lips before pressing the kiss to the photograph. “And then my luck ran out.”
He placed the photograph back in its rightful spot but continued to stare at it.
“I was about your age, married with two little girls and the biggest empire in New York. I was on top of the world, untouchable, and unstoppable, making more money than anyone could’ve imagined. My wife was dripping in diamonds and my kids didn’t want for a thing. I’d go out all night, hustle hard and come home in the morning just as Grace was getting the girls ready for school. I’d give them a quick kiss, promise there would be a surprise waiting for them when they came home and handed my wife a knot of cash. I thought that’s what made a man successful.”
I used to hate Jack’s alliance with Victor, I thought it was bad for the club to mix our organization with his. I didn’t like breaking bread with the mob and thought we ran in different circles. But I learned our club and his organization had many similarities, we were both outlaws and mostly we wanted the same things as far as our town. We wanted to keep the concrete jungle under our thumb, run shit our way, with no interference from others. We wanted to make money, and when we started to…well, we wanted to make more because stacks of hundreds under your mattress wasn’t enough. You wanted the shoeboxes in your closet full too.
“I used to think that too,” I admitted. “I was married, lost her though and when I did it didn’t matter how much I gave her it didn’t keep her in my life.”
“I know,” he said. “But you, you got a second chance,” he pointed out. “You’ll get out of here and there’ll be a life waiting for you. It’s an opportunity to live hard and fast but for the right reasons, for the reasons that make life worth living.”
He coughed heavily as if he was choking. I jumped to my feet, ready to pat him on the back but he held up a hand in protest and continued to cough up a lung.
Pride.
He still had it.
“That’s better,” he said, taking a deep breath.
“You okay?”
He stepped to me and placed his palm to my cheek and I felt like I was in the Godfather with Marlon Brando and not in a jail cell with Vic.
“Do yourself a favor...when you get out, make changes, make your life count, kid, because it’s too fucking short. Don’t fall back into old ways and don’t let breaking the law come before the one who keeps you warm at night. Don’t become me because it’ll hurt, worse than any bullet ever could—knowing your wife cries herself to sleep every night and you have two daughters you never got to walk down the aisle or dance with.”
He paused, dropped his hand and looked away before continuing.
“I’ve got a granddaughter due to be born any day now I won’t ever get to meet and a grandson who will soon forget his Pop if he hasn’t already. So ask me now, was it all worth it?”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it Vic. It takes a good man to get a woman like you got, and even more special man to raise two daughters as great as yours. You must’ve done something right,” I told the man.
“Remember that when you’re breathing fresh air, kid. Remember when life gets hard there’s always another way, hang onto your woman and let her show you the way. And if you’re lucky you’ll have a couple kids…,” he smiled, fighting back another coughing fit. “And they’ll be girls. You’ll look at them and wonder how you ever pulled a trigger or dug a hole.”
The coughing won, and it took a few minutes for him regain his composure.
“Do you need a glass of water or something?”
“Water won’t cure what I have,” he muttered.
“Are you sick?”
He took a seat on the bottom bunk and glanced up at me.
“I’ve been diagnosed with lung cancer, not sure what stage yet, but I’m guessing it’s pretty far off,” he took a deep breath. “It is what it is,” he brushed an invisible piece of lint from his jumpsuit.
“Christ, I’m sorry Vic,” I muttered, running my fingers through my hair. “Does your family know?”
“No, no point in telling them,” he answered. “My girls are finally happy, genuinely happy and they’re safe. They miss their dad but they’re moving on with life, as they should. Adrianna is about to give birth and is finally living her happily ever after with Anthony. And my Nikki, well, Michael paid me a visit and told me he was going to ask her to marry him. He’s a good kid, Val would be proud. Then there’s my Gracie, and I won’t tell her because she’s still hanging onto the years when we were young.”
He lifted his pillow, removed the pillow case and pulled a razor blade out.
“When it’s your time, it’s your time,” he said kneeled down on the floor and sharpened the edge of the razor against the concrete.
“What are you doing with that?” I whispered.
He lifted his eyes to mine and smiled widely.
“It’s Jimmy’s time,” he revealed.
“He’s here?”
“It seems like just yesterday you and Jack paid me a visit and we first concocted this plan,” he smiled nostalgically. “I always liked playing God, now I get to play it with that no good prick’s life.”
He viciously scratched the razor against the cement, obviously angered just thinking about Jimmy Gold.
I got his pain.
That motherfucker ruined my life too.
The only difference is I have one to get back to and Vic didn’t. I felt sorry for him and I knew if I told him that I’d kill what was left of his soul. He didn’t want anyone’s pity.
“They’ll be coming to bring me to the chapel. Do me a favor?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Continue to sharpen this when I’m gone, but make sure you put the sheet up. You don’t have to worry about the guards but the scum we’re locked up with, they’re all rat bastards,” he said, taking my hand and opening my palm before dropping the blade into it and closing it.
“Nice and sharp, like the tip of a needle,” he instructed.
I glanced down at the weapon in the palm of my hand as Vic walked behind me and untied the sheet from the bars. I shoved the razor under my mattress and watched as Vic grabbed his bible. Two minutes later a correction officer took him to church.
Two minutes later I was devising a plan of my own.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Nice and sharp, like the tip of a needle.
His words repeated over and over inside my head as I mimicked the way he tied the sheet over the bars. I grabbed the blade from under the mattress and took a seat on the cold floor, letting the razor slide between my fingers.
So smooth.
I pictured Jimmy’s face as he sat across from me that day he showed up at the Dog Pound, provoking me to resurrect the devil I tried so hard to bury.
Victor tells me you’re familiar with the business, that, you used to be one of the biggest players in the game.
Even the mighty players fall.
Just look at Vic.
&nbs
p; But I didn’t just fall, Jimmy Gold knocked me off my horse and dragged me to hell.
I’d like to think a man like you knows his product, enjoys it even, won’t you have a taste for me?
I scratched the razor against the concrete subconsciously as I relived the nightmare that nearly killed me. I recalled drawing my sleeve up my arm and tying the rubber band around my bicep. I could almost feel the needle prick my skin and when I closed my eyes I watched as my thumb pressed down on the top of the syringe.
There you go.
Just a little more.
All done.
I’ve been at war with myself for a long time and if I would yield Victor’s advice I needed to put my addictions to rest. I needed to go religiously to meetings when I got out and more than that I needed to hang on to the picture he painted for me. The woman home waiting for me and the dream of a family that could be mine.
But before all that, to give myself to Lacey completely I had to free myself from the demons that threatened to pull me away from her. I wasn’t like Victor; I learned the hard way money and power aren’t everything, not when you’re pulling your dead wife out of a bathtub. I had my own issues though and as much as I was addicted to drugs I was addicted to pain. I let people get to me through my heart and I’d have to end that by ending all the people who threatened to take my heart away from me.
Starting with Jimmy.
Ending with Boots.
I didn’t even give a fuck about the G-Man anymore. If that man never got what was coming and lived to a ripe old age only to rot away in a cage, that, was good enough for me. Vic gave me a glimpse of the future, providing me with a wake-up call and a new dream.
I wanted the picture he had taped to the wall, but I wanted that photograph tucked safely into a frame on the nightstand next to my wife.
I touched the edge of the blade, continued to sharpen it before glancing around the cell, searching for an answer to a question I wasn’t going to divulge.
The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition Page 153
