“Right now, it’s us,” I say, kissing him, touching his cheek.
“It’s us,” he agrees.
CHAPTER 28
PRIME
She looks perfect in black. It’s a simple dress but it fits her body like heaven. A hint of her cleavage, a tasteful amount of her legs, and heels that lift her ass to the sky.
I want to lock her in the fucking closet.
This is all wrong. There’s no way Fontana should invite me and Deanna to his house tonight, not after what happened at the last meeting. I keep thinking this reeks, it all stinks, but maybe Deanna’s talk with Carbone really did convince them that we’re innocent.
She leans against me on the ride to the house. The driver’s some low-level Fontana man. He barely grunts in our direction as we wind out to the suburbs, going much further than I ever imagined.
“What’s he doing all the way out here?” she asks, squinting into the darkness. Bucks County is a relatively large area north of Philadelphia. Parts are affluent, and that’s exactly how I’d describe the house we’re eventually brought to.
“I don’t know,” I admit as we’re let out in front of a grand, beautiful home, all white and black with manicured gardens and huge main doors. There are trees everywhere like we’re hidden in the forest. I would’ve bet anything that Fontana lived in the city, not forty-five minutes away instead.
“It’s nice at least.” Deanna presses close to me as we ascend and ring the bell.
“Any chance I can convince you to stay in the car?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Something bad might happen tonight.”
Her grip on my arm tightens. “I know, but I don’t care. We’re in this together now, and this is what you wanted, right?”
I nod. Fontana’s house. His home base, his actual address. I stared out the window the whole drive here, memorizing street signs. I keep running through the route in my head to make sure I won’t lose anything and I already dropped a location pin in my phone’s mapping software.
What I don’t understand is why he’s trusting me now.
Fontana himself answers the door. He seems like he’s in a good mood. He shakes my hand and welcomes us both warmly. His wife is a dour older woman but even she manages to seem engaged. The only surprise is Marco Carbone sitting in the dining room drinking wine with that default scowl.
“Please, sit and have something to eat. I’d say my wife slaved away for hours, but?—“
“I made some phone calls and had it all delivered. I’d say that still counts as working hard.” She laughs at her own joke and fills her glass to the brim with prosecco.
“Mr. Spadaro. Mrs. Spadaro.” Carbone nods between us, not standing in greeting. “I’m glad you came.”
He says that last while staring right at Deanna.
A flare of anger slides into my guts but I force myself to ignore him. Fontana holds court, talking about the area mostly, complaining about property taxes and local school districts and politicians he doesn’t like. He moans about the postal system and says his neighbors are all idiots and thieves.
“I’ll be honest, after what happened at our last meeting, I didn’t expect to see you again so soon.” I do my best to stay relaxed but it isn’t easy. Fontana’s wife is chatting away at Deanna, acting like they’re best of friends.
Fontana waves that away. “In my business, these things happen.”
“Still, you’ve insulated yourself from all that.”
“Yes, it helps to be paranoid these days.” He says it slowly and carefully as he touches the rim of his glass. “Tell me something, Prime. You’ve been in our business a long time, haven’t you?”
“For most of my life.”
“How many old men do you know still doing what we do?”
“Not many,” I admit. “And even fewer of them stay sharp.”
