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They eyed us up and down, taking in my frame and my tatts. Tiny had warned me they scanned for signs of drug abuse because even though they dealt in the dirty shit, they liked their runners clean and their associates even cleaner. I never used it.
“Mr. Montgomery, my name is Max Fredricks, congratulations on your release,” the lackey said. He offered me his hand which I shook making sure to give him direct eye contact. “Let me introduce you to Roberto Cavelli.”
“Mr. Cavelli,” I said with a nod of the head.
“Mr. Montgomery,” Cavelli said curtly. He nodded back.
Cavelli wasn’t a man of many words according to Tiny but his reputation for brutality and precision preceded him—he didn’t need to speak, for people to know he meant serious business.
“Looks like your stay at DesMax has ended,” Cavelli said, making it sound like I’d been doing time at an exclusive resort. DesMax was the nickname for the Desolation Maximum Security Correctional Facility, my home sweet home for the last ten years.
“Ten years in hell, does a body good,” I told him.
“What about the mind, Montgomery? Is it beneficial as well?”
I wanted to tell him to fuck off, would have liked to tell him with a fist to his mouth. I’d kept my sanity, but only because I’d held onto it tooth and nail.
“I’m not repentant if that’s what you’re getting at?”
“Take it as you will, Montgomery. Cardinal sin, is it not, the slaughter of one’s own father? I believe you can find the answer to that in the book of Exodus. ``And he, who smiteth his father or mother, shall surely be put to death,’ I believe it says.”
“I’d do it again right fucking now, if given the opportunity,” I told him. My fists were tightening on the table and Mr. Fredricks reached a hand to Tiny’s shoulder.
Prison had given me killer instincts, and I fought hard against actually splitting their heads open while I envisioned doing it.
“Shall we get down to business?” Tiny asked. I’d never seen him deferential to anyone—ever. Even his posture was different in front of Cavelli. But I gave no fucks. I would never be subservient to anyone ever again. Look where it had gotten me, I’d wasted eighteen years of my life being pushed around by my father. I wasn’t going to let a stranger do it just because he was some mafia gangster. I had nothing to lose. Nothing.
“So, from what Tiny tells me I need to do a couple of runs for you and then our business is concluded?”
“Not one for platitudes, are you?” Cavelli asked me.
“Call ‘em like I see ‘em, sir,” I told him. I should’ve probably taken that as a dig, after all Cavelli was the head of the entire Furfante syndicate. These guys didn’t mess around and had a hand in everything from local law enforcement to government. If they wanted something to happen, it was a done deal—no questions asked.
Fredricks passed an envelope toward me.
“Butcher and Son, I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” he said.
I took the envelope from him right in front of the guard. It was clear the CO was watching it all, but made no move to intercept the passing of the envelope. Visitors weren’t even supposed to enter the visitation room with anything on their person, but obviously, these guys were some kind of exception.
I’d heard of Butcher and Son, to my knowledge, it was an abandoned slaughter house in Desolation where those from The Ruin gathered for secret meetings or to handle other negotiations on the down low. If I had half a brain cell, I would have refused to get mixed up with The Ruin at all. What I knew from Monty and his minions was that The Ruin dealt in all illegal activity, from drug dealing to murder and everything in between, and the very worst of it went down at that out of the way location.
I took the envelope and slid it into my pocket in plain view of the corrections officer. “Anything else?” I asked, one eyebrow cocked. I did their dirty task and washed my hands of any lowlifes for the rest of my life. I wasn’t going to be a criminal, follow in my father’s footsteps. I’d run the straight and narrow as my act of rebellion—that’s what happened to the children of criminals.
“Not unless you’ll be needing continued protection once you’re out of DesMax?” Cavelli said. His tone and the slight tilt of his head told me it was a threat, and one not to be taken lightly.
“I pay my debts all the way off,” I told him with malice. I shot up from my chair and the guard jumped behind me to cuff me again.
“Best of luck on the outside. Give our regards to your family,” Fredricks said, also cautioning me with tone. His teeth were crooked and so was his long nose.
