“Damaged people attract damaged people. They forgive her fuck-ups because it’s the only way they can forgive themselves.”
I’m not talking out of my ass. I’m speaking from experience. It’s why Justine fell under another mafia prince’s spell so quickly when she flew to the other side of the country to take up an internship at the number one defense firm in the country. Nikolai, a Russian mafia prince, is as broken as Justine, but my mom assures me that when they’re together, you have no clue any parts of them are missing.
It was the same for Demi and me, and it was the reason I always put her first. When I was with her, she was whole because it took pieces of me to fix her.
I’d give anything to have the chance to slot the final piece back into place.
My thoughts shift from the negative when Agent Machini exhales a big breath. “Sorry, that was very unprofessional of me. I just wish we could see people’s insides as easily as we see their outsides. It would make everyone’s life a whole heap easier.” After scooping the photographs off the table, she stuffs them into her bag, then stands to her feet. “Are you good? Do you need anything? Ibuprofen, cigarettes, Coca-Cola? I don’t see you having much use for them, but I can’t help but ask.”
Although I’m confused by the last half of her offer, I shake my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“All right. Bye.” My confusion catapults to a new high when she leans over the desk to hug me goodbye. She isn’t usually the affectionate type. Most of the time, I don’t even get a wave out of her. “Keep in touch.”
I watch her stalk through the reception area of Harbortown before spinning on my feet to face Brooks.
“Everything good?” he asks after taking in the expression on my face.
“I think so.”
He jerks up his chin before requesting me to raise my arms to be frisked. Since prisoners aren’t shackled to tables during visitation, we have to be searched after each visit. Brooks loves when my mom comes to visit because he gets to sample her dishes before I do.
My eyes shoot down to the pocket in my jumpsuit when Brooks says, “Ox, you know the rules. No pornographic material of any kind.” He recants his statement when he unfolds a printed image that’s the same size as the ones Agent Machini showed me only seconds ago. “I guess this is okay. They’re dressed.Kinda.”
The reason for his confusion smacks into me when I take in the photograph. It’s one of the underaged women with grubby faces, except it’s zoomed out. There are several identifiable landmarks in the background, leaving me no doubt where this image was taken.
As Brooks shoves the photograph back into my pocket, I stray my eyes in the direction Agent Machini walked. I gasp in a sharp breath when I spot her standing just inside the glass exit doors. She smiles at my stunned expression, throws me a quick wave, then disappears into the parking lot like a bat out of hell.
I move just as fast, except I don’t head for the exit. I race for the payphones lining one wall of the recreation room. Four years haven’t moved the goal posts. I just won’t be the man kicking the ball, but that doesn’t matter. A win is a win no matter what position you play.
I’ve only punched in the first three digits of Rocco’s cell phone when Brooks calls my name. When I peer at him, he nudges his head to the visitor hub. “You’ve got another one. Despite what his Instagram followers will tell you, he isn’t as pretty as your first visitor.”
Curious, I place the phone receiver back onto its dock, then head back to Brooks. The reason behind a lack of rebuttal is unearthed when my eyes lock on the man standing in the middle of the visitor hub. Saint announces his sexiness to the world. Caidyn lets it speak for itself.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Caidyn? It isn’t the first Friday of the month.”
Everyone around here calls the first Friday of the month ‘family day’ because without fail, at four o’clock every first Friday of the month, Harbortown Correctional Facility is swarmed by members of the Walsh brethren. Even Sloane occasionally joins in the festivities.
After returning my greeting, which replicates the man hug I gave him the first time I saw him after his prolonged hospital stay, Caidyn pulls me back to arm’s length. “Macy didn’t tell you?”
My face twitches as I struggle to conceal the dishonesty in my reply. “Tell me what? It was just a standard visit. What’s going on?” I don’t want my family to know of my plans. They’ve been through enough. I don’t need to give them more grief.
I double back when I realize how contradictory my inner monologue is to my plans. I don’t want to hurt my family, but I’m planning to hurt them in a way they’ll never forget.
I’m not ashamed to admit that is fucked-up, but I’m at a loss as to how I can make things different. I don’t exist without Demi, she was my world, so how can I be expected to live without her?
I shelf my deliberation for a more appropriate time when Caidyn says, “Your verdict was overturned. You’re getting out.” He glances back at the reception area like he’s aware Agent Machini was there only moments ago before he mutters, “Macy arrested Megan yesterday afternoon. When the judge was presented with undeniable DNA evidence she was who Macy said she was, she overturned your conviction on the spot. You’re a free man.”
The shock thickening my veins is heard in my reply. “I can leave? I can walk out those doors?” I thrust my hand to the front doors of Harbortown to emphasize my point. It makes the rattle of my hands more obvious, but I don’t give a shit. I thought I’d eventually have to beg at Dimitri’s heel to get out of this place. I never thought it would occur because my ‘victim’ was found alive. From what Rocco has shared with me over the past four years, Megan’s revival will be as shocking to him as it’s to me. He didn’t kill her. He just made it impossible for her to show up unannounced—supposedly.
“Umm…” Caidyn seeks Brooks’s assistance to answer my question.
He comes through with the goods. “I’d suggest waiting for the official paperwork to come through. I don’t want to taser your ass, but I will if I have to.” He squeezes my shoulder to ensure I know there’s no malice in his tone before suggesting for me to go pack.
I do precisely thatafterupdating my team about my game plan.
I’ll never be a part of the Italian Cartel, but teamwork is a powerful advantage when you share a common goal.
31
