That was how I felt. Like I did when I tried to remember. When I tried to bring those ghosts back to the living.
“Baby girl.”
Quentin’s voice broke through the fog. I could tell by the way he was looking at me that he’d tried to get my attention before. I could see worry there. Or was that pity?
He nodded at Abe. “Sharon has her. You dropped her off before the event. Remember, baby girl?”
I nodded, but I didn’t. The panic inside of me was reaching a crescendo, and all I knew was that I’d lost something so valuable to me. Something…I couldn’t seem to get back. If I couldn’t find it, I would no longer be me.
This time, instead of pressing for the memories, it felt like the memories were pressing in on me. Suffocating me.
“C-can we go g-get her?”
“She’ll be where you’re going,” he said. “She’s in good hands.”
Abe looked at Quentin, and that was definitely pity I saw.
I closed my eyes and let the night pull me into a darkness so deep that the underbelly of the city in comparison seemed too bright.
24
Aniello
Every man has a price. Even when he says he doesn’t.
From outside of the cruiser, I watched as Big Bismo stood next to Boy, both watching as the two police in the front drove off with me in the back seat.
It was never smart to keep the enemy behind, even when bars stood in the way. Some of us—we were too slippery for shackles and chains.
Halfway to wherever they were taking me, no doubt a dropping off point so the organization could pick me up and take me to The Boss, I knocked on the separator.
“Fuck!” the cop driving said, swerving some.
The other one pulled out his gun, pointing it at me.
I lifted my hands, the handcuffs dangling from one. “Let me out,” I said. “If you do, I’ll forget your faces.”
“Do we look like we can be bribed, Assanti?” the one holding the gun said.
“Seeing as you already have been,” I said, “yes. Though I’m not bribing you. That would mean I’d give you something in return for freeing me. The only thing I’m giving you, both of you, is the freedom to live for you showing me the same courtesy.”
“Is what they say true?” the one driving asked. “That you don’t forget shit?”
“I’m Italian,” I said. “In general, we don’t forget transgressions. But, yes, I have a sharper memory than most.” I rattled off their names, how long they had been with the force, if they had any accomplishments or bad marks, and then I started to get personal.
Parents. Birthplace. Ages. Where they grew up, addresses included. Married or not. Names if they were. Kids or not. Names if they had them. All transgressions that were not on the books.
The driver was in deep debt to Club Desolation for gambling. His partner was on the inside of a criminal ring that dealt in drugs. He’d tell them when and where, so the police were always one step behind.
Even though I knew their names, I’d only use them if I planned on acting, but until then, they were just a bunch of stats in my head.
“Look,” the driver said, lifting his hands from the wheel for a second. “I don’t want to get mixed up in this.”
“You already are,” I said. “So let me give you a piece of advice. You’d rather face them than me. It’s the reason they hire me to do what I do.”
“What’s that?” the one with the gun said.
I grinned at him and then looked at the driver through the mirror. “Common sense. Get some. Quick.”
