And not to the police orWashington, becauseplease.
I would expose them to their families, friends, constituents, lobbyists. Journalists, influencers, business owners… And my personal favorite, criminals with nothing to lose and a love of vigilante justice.
Long story short, they wouldprayfor prison when I got through with them.And then, if they got in there, they’d regret that too.
The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. You couldheartheir old pervert minds working like a rusty crankshaft, bewildered by this newwokemafioso, who cut people’s ears off when they failed to listen properly, telling them thattheywere fucking sickos.
It was actually pretty funny.
I left the office, giving them two days to shut it all down and come up with a solution to make up the deficit in my percentage.
They called me back only twelve hours later.
“Mr. Blanco,” The older Russo greeted me first as I waltzed into the conference room at their lawyer’s office once again, my personal security in tow. “Thank you so much for coming back in.”
“Please, call me Ivory.” I smirked, taking a seat and folding my hands on the table.
Russo blinked. “Of course. Ivory… We may have found the perfect solution to your—ourproblem.”
I glared, silently, until he cleared his throat, nodding at his lawyer. The lawyer handed me a folder.
“There’s an island,” he went on while I opened the folder, eyes scanning the pages. “Five miles off the coast of LongIsland. Due to its… checkered past, it’s technically outside of US jurisdiction. But we’ve owned the rights to it for many years. It’s been passed on for generations, but we’ve never been able to find quite the right… purpose for it. Until now.”
My eyes lifted, from the papers to his, and I cocked a brow. “Is this for real?”
“Commissioner Levy and I have been in talks about opening a new prison for a while,” he said, fully serious, despite the insanity he was spewing.
“Something like Rikers, only not so close,” the commissioner added. “Less prying eyes. And less… regulations.”
I couldn’t help the way my lashes were fluttering. A puff of incredulous air gusted from between my lips.
“Perdóneme.” I shook my head. “Let me see if I’m getting this right. You want me to… what? Build you a prison? On some island in the middle of nowhere?”
“No, no, don’t be silly,” Russo chuckled, and I was glaring again.
“Trust me, silly is never what I’m being,” I growled.
“Wewould provide the prison,” he explained nervously. “In fact, there’s already a facility there, on the island. I’m sure it’ll need some sprucing up… But basically, we’d be giving you this island. As a gift. So long as we can also open the prison, and use it to house prisoners.”
I stared for several seconds. “What kinds of prisoners…?”
“Bad ones,” the younger Russo jumped in, like a child trying to involve himself in the grown-up conversation.
“Ones we don’t want getting out on parole, or having their convictions overturned due to juror misconduct,” the district attorney said, sounding like he had a vested interest in this plan, which made sense.
My baffled gaze fell to the file once more as I continued leafing through it. A map of the island, as it stood, and where itwas located in relation to the rest of civilization. There was also a proposal, detailing the stipulations of their offer, budget, and salary.
“You realize I already have a job.” I aimed another snide look their way.
“You could run the facility however you see fit.” Russo Sr. shrugged. “We assume you would hire a staff to manage the day to day. All you’d really be doing is overseeing it.”
“So then why do you need me at all?” I muttered. “Just hire your own team…”
“We need someone with your… skill set,” he rumbled. “To ensure things are being properly handled.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but part of me was highly intrigued. It sounded completely loco.But then loco is… kinda my thing.
“What if we made it more like an… asylum?” I asked, finding my gaze magnetized to the papers. Namely, the map.
