“So, you’re going to hold me hostage?”
“Like I said, it isn’t personal.” He glances back at Michael. “File the paperwork, and I’ll be in touch.”
He grips my biceps harder, and then a man I don’t recognize approaches me, holding a?—
“Stop!” I shriek as a black bag is placed over my head at the same time my hands are forced behind my back.
“C’mon, wife,” Henry says as I scream down the place despite nobody being around to hear me. “It’s time to get the party started.”
7
Matteo
“Are you fucking kidding me?What do you mean, my bail has been denied?”
Michael swallows thickly. “I’m sorry. I tried, but the judge denied it.”
Holy shit. This can’t be happening. I’ve only been arrested a handful of times over the years, but it’s never stuck. For the judge to deny me bail … this isn’t good.
“Be straight with me,” I say to my attorney. “Are the charges going to stick?”
“I don’t know,” he says, his left eye twitching. “But I’m going to do everything I can to make sure they don’t.”
Michael has been our attorney since Andrey died and Dominick and Giuseppe cut ties with everyone connected to him, not wanting to risk any misplaced loyalty to Andrey or the people he associated with. For the past five years, he’s been someone we can trust. He’s without a doubt one of the best attorneys I’ve ever seen in action, which is why Dominick and Lorenzo have him on retainer and pay him the money they do.
But as I assess him—his knee bouncing, making his body tremble, him refusing to make eye contact; his hands shaking slightly—something in my gut tells me not to trust him. And I always trust my gut because it has yet to steer me wrong.
After he’s done, I ask the guard I have in my pocket to get a message to my brother for me—I need my phone and a pair of earbuds ASAP—and then I head back out to the main area.
Most of the day is spent either in the gym or the recreation yard. The inmates serving long-term will also rotate between doing chores in the kitchen or the laundry room or doing maintenance to earn some money.
Wanting to see who I’m in here with, I head out to the recreation yard first. Generally, there’s a schedule, but since we have several of the guards on payroll, I can come and go as I wish.
Since we’re in county, the guys in here aren’t serving for hard shit, and many of them are men I’ve encountered over the years.
“Fuck!” a masculine voice barks.
I turn my head because no matter where you are, you gotta be aware of your surroundings. It’s Survival 101.
The first thing I notice is that a few of the inmates are surrounding another guy off to the side, and since it isn’t my business, I’m about to continue on my way, until I get a look at the guy they’re cornering—Lorenzo.
What the fuck is he doing in here? And why the hell didn’t Michael mention it?
Before I can make it over to them, the four guys jump Lorenzo, each kicking and punching the hell out of him. Based on the way the guards aren’t moving, they’ve been bribed to let it happen.
I grab the first guy by the back of his shirt and punch him in the face, knocking him on his ass. And then I grab the next guy, pulling him off Lorenzo. By the time I get to the last two guys, one sees who’s coming after him and immediately backs off, but the last guy swings at me.
He’s similar in size and build, but he doesn’t have the fighting background I have. Too easily, I bring him to the ground, pushing my forearm against his throat to cut off his air supply. I’m not going to kill him. I wouldn’t risk life in prison over this guy. But I do it just enough to get his attention and make my threat clear.
“I don’t know who paid you to fuck with Lorenzo Russo, but if anybody touches him again, I’m adding you to my hit list. Got it?”
The guy under me nods emphatically, and I let him go, then look around at the other men watching.
“You guys heard me? Lorenzo is off-fucking-limits.”
They all nod.
I stand and walk over to Lorenzo, extending my hand and helping him to his feet. He’s got a bloody lip and a black eye forming, and I’m sure his ribs are screaming in pain, but he’s okay.
