My brother gaped at me as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Did you just say—”
“Fuck you,” I said again, just in case he didn’t hear me the first time, though how that could be possible was beyond me. “How could you do this to him? To me? You storm into the restaurant and start tearing everything apart. You accuse him of all this bogus crap. You allow me to be interrogated like some victim of the Spanish Inquisition. And all without bothering to explain to me what this is all about.”
“I’m trying to tell you what this is all about if you’ll let me do it. Why don’t you sit down…” I glared at him. I’m surprised the heat of it didn’t set him aflame. “Fine,” he hesitated, purposely lowering his voice. “Will you sit down, please?”
Still furious, I sat down, crossing my arms over my chest.
“This is what we recorded of the conversation Marco had with Dante Bianchi last night. Technically, I shouldn’t be sharing this with you, but I know it’s the only way you’ll believe me.” He opened an app on his phone, and I heard two voices fill the room. The one I didn’t recognize must be this Dante guy, but the other one was undeniably Marco’s.
I listened as they discussed things like embezzlement, cocaine distribution, prostitution, and murder. I listened as Marco gave Dante instructions on how to escape Philadelphia undetected. But the most damning had been when Marco had said this:
“This isn’t my first rodeo, Dante, you can rest assured. Your SUV will be found with an unidentifiable body matching your basic weight, height, and description.”
Did that mean that he’d killed another man to make sure no one would follow this Dante guy? And if it did, the rodeo remark insinuated something even worse, that this hadn’t been the first time Marco had committed such a series of crimes.
“Do you see now, Kelly? What I’ve been telling you is true. The Varassos and the Bianchis are responsible for a huge percentage of the crime that happens here in the city. And this recording proves it. We’re still notating all the evidence from your restaurant, but it looks like he was laundering millions through your cash office. Millions. Thanks to you, we have what we need to prosecute. Thanks to you, one of the most prominent men in organized crime will have to face justice.”
Thanks to me.
Thanks to me Marco would go to prison.
I’d fallen in love with—and given my body to—a criminal. A member of the Italian mafia. Someone who’d broken several laws. Someone who’d used me to help him break those laws.
David had been right all along.
I’d thought he’d been so kind and good. So trustworthy. The way he’d made love to me had felt so beautiful and pure. But what if I’d been mistaken about that just like I’d been mistaken about so much else. Had any of what had transpired between us been real or had it all been subterfuge? A way for him to get his jollies? Another way to use me for his nefarious purposes?
I thought of all that money I’d counted on a daily basis. About how he’d told me his errand had entailed visiting with his brothers rather than this clandestine arrangement he’d made with Dante Bianchi.
Without warning, the room began to spin. Down became up and up became down. I felt like I’d stepped into quicksand the moment I’d met Marco, and I’d been su
cked further and further into that watery abyss without my knowledge. There was a rushing sound in my hears, like static, like white noise.
My head had started to ache, making it difficult to keep my eyes open. But my head had nothing on my heart, which broke right down the center as if cleaved in two.
22
Marco
I waited in the interrogation room of the police precinct, sitting across from a woman in a white uniform shirt and a golden bar insignia, doing my best to project nothing but calm superiority.
I didn’t recognize her rank, but I’d guess the woman to be in her forties, and she gave off a vibe that reminded me of Molly when we’d first kidnapped her. A don’t-fuck-with-me vibe. I knew I’d need to stay on my toes with her.
I might despise my late father, but what he’d taught us had proven useful, especially in situations like these. The authorities might charge us with any number of crimes, but unless they had conclusive proof, those charges would be dismissed as soon as the judge heard them.
I was counting on that.
So for me, this was more like a starring in a stage play than anything else. I was portraying my part. The part of a man falsely accused.
We’d put many loopholes into the system to assist us along the way. Many law enforcement officers, judges, and the like worked for us as much if not more than they did for the state. It was why no one in my generation had gone to prison. Of course, I was the first in two decades to be arrested.
I tried not to think too hard about that particular fact.
I’d just have to deal with the punches as they came.
My first act had been to reach out to Ricky Moretti, my family’s defense attorney. Ricky, while young, was also brilliant. He’d grown up side by side with Alessandro and was as dedicated to our family as it was possible to be while not sharing Varasso DNA.