Page 20 of Sweet Prison
“Okay.” Salvo nods. “I’ll walk you out to the car.”
I mumble a quick goodbye to Mrs. Canali and follow Salvo to the foyer.
“Have you heard from Massimo?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot.
“Not in the last couple of months. Why?”
“Because he’s in the hospital ward!” I whisper. “I found out this morning when I snuck into my dad’s office to look for something. Only I didn’t get the chance because Dad was there. Apparently, Massimo can’t have any visitors right now, so my father didn’t even go to see him today.”
Salvo stops near the front door and grabs my upper arm.
“Are you insane?” he whispers back. “Nuncio might be your father, but he’s also the don. What if someone catches you going through his files and passes that information to the rest of the fucking Family?”
“No one will catch me.”
“You don’t know that.” He cocks his head to the side, studying my face. “You look different.”
I furrow my brows, confused by the sudden change of subject. “I’m wearing some foundation.”
“Mm-hmm…” He reaches out and sweeps a stray strand of hair off my face. “You look very pretty.”
For just an instant, I’m too stunned to respond. Men never give me compliments. What’s his deal? Is this a ploy of some kind? Whatever. I have zero mental capacity to analyze Salvo’s behavior at the moment.
“If you hear anything, please let me know. Your mother has my number.” I step around him and head to the car.
“What did he promise you?” Salvo calls after me. “In exchange for your…help? Money? A favorable match for your marriage?”
I don’t even bother gracing him with an answer. Men. They all think the world revolves around dicks. God forbid a womandoes something because it makes her feel good. Recognized. Worthy. None of the men in my sphere make me feel that way.
Except one.
And right now, I don’t even know if he’s okay!
“Glad to see you up and about, Spada. A few days under the fluorescent lights of the hospital ward has really perked up your complexion.”
“Fuck off, Kiril.” I nod at the Bulgarian. Pain screams in my hip, the stitches pulling on my flesh as I lower myself to take a seat beside him in the rec yard.
“Owen got you good, I see.” He laughs, flashing a gold upper bicuspid. “Is he still in the infirmary?”
“Yup. Severe concussion. He’ll live.”
“Why the fuck did you get into a fight with that nutcase?”
“He wanted to sit next to me in the chow hall. But the asshole knows I like to eat alone.” I squeeze the bridge of my nose. My eyes still sting from the damn pepper spray the COs doused us with. “So, you’re catching the chain tomorrow?” The lucky bastard is getting out of here.
“Yup. Four years and eight months in this cage. To be honest, I’m feeling a bit of anxiety.”
“You’ll get over it. Just make sure you don’t suddenly develop amnesia once you’re out and forget the terms we agreed on.” I pin him with my gaze.
Kiril’s crew owns a car wash business with several locations around the state, and they use these to launder money for Camorra. My own laundering channels have been stretched too thin in the past year, so I negotiated an in with the Bulgarians, giving them a cut of fifteen percent.
“I’m a man of my word, Spada.” He stands up and offers me his hand. “Looking forward to working with Cosa Nostra.”
While we shake hands, Kiril leans toward me. “A new inmate will be arriving next week, and a little birdie told me that the Triad is a bit worried about the reception he’ll get,” he says in a lowered voice. “Mr. Wang would be extremely grateful if someone could take the boy under his wing.”
I raise an eyebrow. “His son?”
“Grandson. The kid got busted for offing a guy who owed them money.”