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I glared. “Just get my bail and get me out of here,” I said. “They don’t have anything on me. They’re just keeping me here to piss me off. This ain’t how you treat someone like me.”
“They can treat you however they damn well please,” Monty said. “You were caught with a black market gun and a half-ounce of cocaine. You think they’re just gonna let you waltz out of here without some fancy ankle bracelet? You can’t be that stupid, Alessio.”
“Don’t fucking call me stupid!” I screamed. I felt the blood rushing to my face, under my cheeks. “You don’t know anything!”
Monty looked up at me with clarity and knowledge in his dark eyes. His look was so intense that I felt my jaw drop and I lowered myself back down into the uncomfortable plastic chair.
Monty laughed. “Yeah, you’d better keep looking at me like that,” he said. He shook his head from side to side. “You really think I don’t know shit, Alessio? What happened to Michael, huh?”
I glared at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said hotly. “Michael who? Who the fuck are you talking about?”
Monty shook his head and leaned back in his chair. He let out a low whistle, the kind someone would use to attract a big dog.
“Alessio, I know you think I’m just a strip mall hack, but trust me – I got eyes and ears all around this city. I know what you did,” he said, staring at me without blinking. “And I know that you know what you did, even if that wasn’t the plan.”
“Fuck the plan,” I snarled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I rolled my eyes. “Stop trying to scare me, Monty. Get me out of here. Get my bail set and get me out. I’m fuckin’ hungry,” I complained. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”
Monty snickered. “Alessio, you’ve got a lot of learning to do, kid,” he said slowly. “You seriously think I don’t know about what you did?” He shook his head. “You’re really fucking stupid sometimes. A little humility would serve you well.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Michael Bennett,” Monty growled. He leaned over the table and glared at me. “I know what you did, Alessio.”
I rolled my eyes. “Whatever,” I snarled. “I don’t care who knows. Just get me the fuck out of here.”
8
Beth
When I left Douglas and Gabrielle’s, I couldn’t sleep. I wandered the streets near the condo, wondering what I’d have to do to get back into Douglas’s good graces. Not that I cared what he thought of me, but there was no way I’d be able to support myself given what few tools I had. If I wanted to survive in New York, I’d have to find Michael’s killer and bring him to justice…and fast.
I didn’t know where to start, so I went to the library and signed up for a slot at the computers. The library was practically empty as it was the middle of the night – the only people sitting at tables were obviously college kids, with giant cups of espresso and bags of cheese crackers. I envied them – they were so young, they had no idea what life could really throw when it wanted to. Back in college, I’d been naïve and happy-go-lucky. It was so hard to believe how much had changed in four years.
Thinking of Michael was incredibly painful. For a few moments, I’d almost forget and it would be easier to breathe. Then his lean face would slide into my mind and I would choke, gasping for air. I couldn’t stop wondering how much pain he’d been in when he died – did he know what was coming? Was he frightened?
Had he thought of me in his final moments?
I shuddered. Finally, a computer was freed and I slid into the seat still warmed by the other person’s ass. I pulled up a search engine and stared for a few minutes, before typing in the name Amoruso. I glanced around me, suddenly frightened that a thug was going to come out of the darkness and shoot me like they’d shot Michael. Finally, I pressed ‘enter’ and closed my eyes as I waited for the results to load.
When the articles loaded, I was shocked. The page was filled with acrimonious accusations against the Amoruso family. I couldn’t believe it – until just a few hours ago, I’d thought of the family as a successful restaurateur dynasty. But I was starting to learn that there was much more.
One of the articles caught my eye. The headline read: “Gianni Amoruso killed in auto accident – truly an accident?”
I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself as I waited for the page to load. Just as the text began to narrow and focus in front of me, someone grabbed the back of my neck. I tried to cry out but a hand slipped over my face and tightened over my mouth.
“Mmnf!” I cried. “Mnf!”
“Shut up,” a male voice hissed in one ear. “You want to wake the fucking dead, lady?”
My eyes were wide in fear and I tried to turn around in the chair but the hands were gripping
me powerfully.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” the voice hissed in my ear. “You close the browser. You get your shit, and you leave the library. And you forget this ever happened.”
My heart turned to ice in my chest and I shivered. I tried to cry out but the hand pinched my lips together in a painful way and I felt my eyes well with tears. What was happening? Why was I being targeted like this?
And how had they known?
