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His dark warning hung in the air long after he was gone, and with it hopelessness and anger.
With one conversation, Mickey had reminded me how much control he had over my life . . . had reminded me how he could chain me to this place forever. I could feel the bars of this prison tightening like a noose around my neck, and I was helpless to stop them. Helpless to stop him.
Johnny twitched in anticipation. After what’d happened at Holloway and with Firefly the last couple days, I’d wanted to beat him unconscious and leave him back at the house.
Which is why he was next to me.
Johnny went where I went. If I stopped bringing him, he would know why. He would know he’d fucked up in a big way. I couldn’t have an unstable Johnny in my house.
Besides, I needed him with me. To remind me why I was doing this. To force me to remain calm enough for the two of us when I wanted to lash out at the person responsible for me being here.
Not just here, in the darkened office of this house.
But here. In this place I’d spent years slowly, painstakingly pulling the Borellos out of. The place my great-grandfather and his two brothers had first put us in when they’d moved down here from Chicago.
Gunrunning and extortion. That was how we’d survived.
No business ran in this town without giving a cut to my family, and no one had secrets we didn’t know about and used to our advantage.
I’d shut down the gunrunning permanently the year my dad died, just after I’d turned fourteen. Since then, I’d been trying to legitimize the family. Most of the older members weren’t happy—and most were still old school like Johnny—even after fifteen years.
But with the help of Einstein, the twins, and a reluctant Johnny, I made peace with the businesses in town where I could. Offered help when they needed it. Invested in others to keep them running. Bought out businesses from burnt-out owners who were afraid of losing money—like Brooks Street. And put an end to all extortion.
Which is why being here was so goddamn frustrating.
I glanced at my phone and blew out a slow breath as I resisted the urge to shift in my seat. “Minute,” I murmured to Johnny. “Less than. Stop twitching, you look like a fucking addict.”
He grunted in reply, but stopped moving. Which only made him start vibrating with the need to move.
“Jesus, Johnny,” I whispered just before the door to the home office opened.
Johnny went still at the sight of the older man walking through the door, unaware of our presence. I didn’t need to be able to see my friend to know he wore an animalistic smile beneath his bandana. I knew him well enough.
Something unseen clicked the door shut behind the man, casting the room in darkness once again.
“Wha—”
“Have a seat, Judge.”
By the time the judge flipped on the light, I was leaning forward in the chair to rest my gun on his desk so it was pointed at him.
He raised his chin in defiance but his eyes were wide with fear. “The police have been—”
“Lie.”
My observation stunned him, but he didn’t attempt to bullshit me again.
“I told you to have a seat. I’d say it’s rude not to.”
His breathing grew rougher as he looked from me to Johnny, weighing his options. He could’ve easily run back out of the room, but he wouldn’t make it far.
Not that he knew that.
“What do you want?”
I released my hold on the gun to sit back and gestured to the chairs on the opposite side of his desk. “If you sit, I’ll tell you. This can all be over in a few
minutes. We’ll leave, you’ll be alive. You can go back to all the illegal things you do that you think nobody knows about . . . just another Saturday night, if you ask me.”
