Page 22 of Sweet Prison
“Make sure that doesn’t happen again,” I warn.
Peppe is first generation Cosa Nostra. His father was a laborer at one of the Family’s warehouses, working alongside my dad. Peppe, however, is more ambitious than his old man ever was. He decided to become a made man by taking the oath and turned soldier during my father’s reign. When I got shot the night of my junior prom, it was Peppe who carried my ass to safety, and he ended up being wounded himself in the process. For years, he’s been my secret contact within the foot soldiers’ ranks.
“What do you have for me?” I ask.
“A guy by the name of Wei Zhao arrived in Block C a few days ago. The Triad wanted you to know that they hold no love toward him and would be immensely grateful if he could be handled. A suicide, if that’s possible.”
“I’ll need a week or two to make arrangements. I don’t have anyone reliable in Block C, so I’ll take care of it myself. Anything else?”
“The Roxbury brats have been causing a stir, using a location on our turf to move boosted cars. But they’ve been handled.” He pauses, and I can tell that whatever he has to say next, is something that’s weighing on his mind. “Capo Armando, though, might become a problem. Since he’s been assigned to oversee foot soldiers, he hasn’t bothered to come down to speak with our men even once. He seems to be more interested in spending his father’s money at the casinos.”
I remember Armando. I remember him being a tool. He went to the same school as Salvo and me but was two years behind us. Armando is stupid as fuck, but his father is one of our largest investors. That’s why I had to agree to promote the useless son of a bitch. Nuncio informed me Armando’s father had asked for it personally. I couldn’t risk making any waves among the Cosa Nostra elite at the time, but once I’m free, I’mtaking care of that idiot. “I’ll see to it that he takes his obligations more seriously from now on. At any rate, he’s occupying that position only temporarily.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Peppe’s head bobs up and down nearly imperceptibly, and then he exhales a long breath. “Motivation is important to people. As is knowing that they’re not seen as simply expendable muscle. Men need a leader who values them. They haven’t forgotten how it was… before.”
I look away, staring at the high concrete wall that surrounds the prison and the electric barbed wire coiled at the top. Everything that lies beyond has been obscured from my view for over a decade.Yes… Before…Before I landed in lockup, no local drug deal or internal skirmish happened without me being there. My presence ensured our soldiers’ safety because only an idiot would risk opening fire with a high-ranking member of Cosa Nostra in attendance. My men were important to me. Every single one. From my right-hand guy to the lowest courier in the hierarchy. But that was…before.
Now… Now I don’t give a fuck about anyone or anything beyond the successful execution of my plan. Nothing.
“The man you remember doesn’t exist anymore, Peppe. Don’t give our men false hope. I’m not the same person I once was. He’s gone.”
“Or maybe he’s simply… lost.” He steals a look in a side-view mirror. “The loading is almost complete.”
“Yup. Make sure you don’t miss your visit next month. I have an errand for Zahara, and you’ll need to accompany her.” I tap the door with my fist and turn to leave, but Peppe whispers my name and I stop.
“Why are you still using the girl? I’ll do anything to get whatever info you need, you know that.”
I turn back and pin him with my gaze. Peppe has always been observant, which is the main reason I positioned him to be one of Don Veronese’s drivers—so he could easily monitor my stepfather’s movements and overhear conversations en route. But despite his current assurance, I know he could never get me intel from inside the social functions that Nuncio loves to host and frequent. I don’t doubt Peppe’s willingness or his abilities for a minute. It’s simply not in the cards. Not for him.
“She’s too young,” he adds. “It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” I snap and head back inside the loading bay. I refuse to give up the ace up my sleeve.
Two months later
“Zara!” My sister pounces to snatch the gift box she just handed me out of my grasp. “You can’t open it now! Your guests are already arriving and you should open all your presents at the same time, after the party.”
I take a step back, squeezing the box to my chest. “They are notmyguests. I didn’t invite any of those people. Dad did. So, I don’t care. Your present is probably the only one I’ll like anyway.”
Nera’s smile slips, but she quickly puts on a happy face. “Fine. Let’s see if I’ve chosen well.”
Moving a vase of white roses aside, I lay the gift box on the dresser and begin tearing off the wrapping paper. Whatever it is, it’s small and rectangular. Is it a new set of sketching pencils?New sewing scissors to add to my growing collection? As soon as the box is completely unwrapped, I almost break down in tears.
“How did you...?” I stare at the limited edition, handheld, electric rotary cutter that I’ve seen in promo videos. It’s the latest and greatest tool for cutting several layers of fabric at a time. “These are only sold in Japan.”
“Dania’s cousin traveled to Tokyo for work a few weeks ago.” She smirks. “You’ve been babbling about that thing for months, so how could I not?”
“Thank you,” I choke out and kiss her cheek.
“He also brought me a fridge magnet. I have it hanging next to the one you got for me in Paris.”
I quickly look away, feeling guilty. I got that magnet from eBay. The long weekend trip to Europe with Hannah’s family never actually happened. For me, at least. It was a cover story for when I had to personally deliver a secret message to some guy on the outskirts of New York City last month. No one except Peppe, who drove me there and stuck to me like glue during the exchange, knew about it.
The whole thing was an ordeal. Nobody from the other Cosa Nostra Families is permitted into the New York territory without specific permission from their don. I’m pretty sure the guy I met was a local mafioso, though, so somehow Massimo made the arrangements for me. Don’t recall the guy’s exact name. I was a bit too nervous. Arthur? No, Arturo. And the message made absolutely no sense to me. It was just two sentences.
I have a solution for your problem in Chinatown.
I’ll reach out when I’m ready to trade.