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In the end, Ritchie stays in the hotel. I’m tempted to spend all night here, but my cell phone starts ringing. It’s Ma. I’m shocked to see her number appear. I can’t remember the last time she used her phone. She’s been so isolated for so long, watching TV, too tired to read, just existing.
“Ma?”
“Are you still coming, Dante?”
Ah, crap. “Are they there? The people from the home?”
“Yes, the doctor thinks a tour might be a good idea, but if you’re busy…”
I swallow, looking across the street. I want to take him now, kill him now, but this is important. What, and Mia isn’t?
“Dante?”
“Where is it?” I say.
She gives me the address. “I’m closer than you,” I say, checking the GPS. “Why don’t you text me when you’re about ten minutes out?”
“Okay, dear. See you soon.”
I hang up the phone, drumming my fingers some more like it does a damn thing. By my best estimate, I’ve got twelve minutes before I need to start moving. Why am I hanging around? This war will give me another chance at this goon.
I keep waiting, watching, wondering what Mia’s talking about right now, how she’s sitting, or if she’s painting. She didn’t deserve any of the evil that happened to her. She didn’t deserve that pain.
When I’ve got about five minutes, Ritchie walks out. He stumbles a little with his hands in his pockets, looks at his car, sighs, and starts walking down the street. My heart beats a little quicker. He turns to the right, walking down a cut-through.
I climb from the car, thinking of Mia, an innocent little girl. He saw and bulliedherbecause he wanted to impress Tony goddamn Marino, most likely. I jog after Ritchie. He turns, looking up at me. His eyes take a moment to register. Slowly, a smile spreads across his drunk face. “That was quite the day, eh, Dante?”
“Tell me more about this history you mentioned,” I say, walking closer to him, not exactly enjoying how he cringes but knowing how right it is and how deserved.
Ritchie laughs like he thinks he’s in charge. It’s dismissive and rude as hell. “What’d she tell you, some story? The old man’s right. You twisted her head, and now she’s yapping to you?”
“She told me you saw him… and her. You threatened her, an innocent child.”
“See?” Ritchie smirks, seeming more confident when a passerby walks by us. He looks at me like,See, we’re in public. Can’t do nothing, can you?“Does that sound realistic to you? Do you think I’d threaten akid? Why would I?”
My cell phone buzzes. I don’t look at it. When I take a step forward, Ritchie cringes back slightly. “Are you calling her a liar?” I snap.
“Listen, man. You need to chill?—”
When he raises his hand, I grab his wrist and wrench it violently to the side, then pin it against his back when he instinctively spins around to relieve the pressure. He grunts as I shove him against the wall.
“Tell me what happened,” I growl.
“Are you nuts?”
“Tell me the truth, or I’ll snap your goddamn arm in half.”
I wrench it further up behind his back. He gasps, making pathetic, weak noises. “It’s… nothing. Jesus…”
I relieve the pressure just a bit. A woman jogs by, stops, then keeps running. People mind their business when the city gets past a certain size. They want to melt away and be invisible.
“Nothing?”
“No,” Ritchie whispers. “Please. It’s just… I saw, you know, Tony with his kid, and then she said something to me. What am I going to do, huh? WhatcouldI do? I told her to do the smartthing and not talk about Tony Marino. That’sit. That’s called putting the Familyfirst.”
“The Family,” I snap. “It’s worth a lot, but it’s not worth that.”
I slam him in the side of the head. His head bounces off the wall. He gasps, slumping, but I hold him up by shoving him up against the wall. “I know about your trafficking gig, too, Ritchie.”
