Melina rose to her feet, nostrils flaring. “I can’t believe you’d even ask me something like that.”
Erika raised her hand in a defensive motion. “I didn’t mean anything by it. I was just asking.”
“I’m done talking about him.”
Without giving her cellmate a chance to respond, Melina walked away. Stuffing her hands in the threadbare pockets of her blue pants, she blew a breath. She’d overreacted. Like a damn jackass. If anyone didn’t have ulterior motives, it was Erika, but the younger woman had touched on a raw spot.
Melina was the one holding the bag.
There was no way she or Mac could’ve known Dulcea’s place would be raided the day she’d been arrested. But still, intentionally or not, she was the one left holding the bag. To do otherwise would’ve forced her to sacrifice the one person in her life who’d slowly come to mean everything to her.
But was it fair that she’d been stuck in this Godforsaken place while Mac was free to live his life as if she didn’t even exist? Tears burned in her eyes, but Melina blinked them away.
Cosa Nostra was everything.
Cosa Nostra came first.
But where did that leave her?
In less than twenty-four hours, she would be a free woman with convictions tied to her name.
A free woman who had nowhere to go and no one to depend on, if the man who loved her didn’t keep his word.
Melina had never been one for praying much, but as she walked the length of the rec yard, she sent up a silent prayer that her fears were for nothing. That for once in her life, she’d found someone she could truly depend on, no matter where the chips fell.
You’re worrying for nothing. Mac wouldn’t abandon you.
She wanted to believe that. As the days went by, she’d held onto that belief. But here, now, right at the finish line, her conviction was faltering. Absence could make the heart grow fonder … or forgetful. Though she’d thought of Mac every single day, there was no guarantee that he’d done the same. Time and power always had a way of changing someone. Reflexively, Melina reached toward her neck, but her fingers only touched bare skin. Her necklace was gone, just like its prior owner, but she’d get both of them back tomorrow. That was her last thought as she was roughly forced to the ground and chaos erupted around her.
Mac Maccari wasn’t a three-piece suit kind of man. He much preferred the comfort of wearing dark-wash jeans, a T-shirt, and combat boots while handling his daily business. It was a comfort thing, and a heat thing.
Glaring up at the bright sun in the sky as he crossed the street as quickly as he could, Mac swore he was melting under his suit. It was an unusually warm summer for New York. It was almost always muggy during the season, but this year Mother Nature decided to kick that shit up a notch.
Mac was less than impressed.
It probably didn’t help that the majority of his day was spent running to and from different locations as he handled his crew and what the men were doing at any given time.
But … it was what it was.
And he was damn good at his job.
Mac supposed that if he wasn’t good at being a Capo, he’d already be dead. At least, for the time being, he had that going for him.
The heat wave, however, could go to hell.
Tugging his jacket off, Mac slipped into the business at the very end of the block, tossing the coat over his arm as a cool blast of air from the air conditioner smacked him straight in the face. He soaked in the cold air as he glanced around the place, taking in the woman behind the counter, who was animatedly talking on the phone and snapping a large wad of gum in her mouth at the same time.
She didn’t even look like she noticed him standing there, for fuck’s sake.
Mac didn’t mind.
He wasn’t here to see her, anyway.
Pulling his phone out of his pocket, Mac searched for the message he’d been left earlier in the day. Infinite Insurance, ask for Ronnie, it read. A few other details had been included, but Mac figured those weren’t important until he found Ronnie.
Mac had come to find out, over his last few months as a newly appointed Capo for the Pivetti crime family, that Luca Pivetti had little to no patience for people who owed him something. It didn’t matter what it was—money, action, or a word. If a person owed him, he expected them to pay accordingly.
Maybe even a little more, simply because he was kind enough to do business with them.
As the boss, it was Luca’s due.
Mac didn’t question why his boss hadn’t simply sent an enforcer over to the place to handle his shit—that wasn’t his place. He just did what the boss wanted done.
Bypassing the receptionist without so much as a “Hello”, Mac strolled to the back of the insurance banker’s business, finding a hallway with several offices. All had glass windows for walls, letting him see the men and women inside, sitting behind desks with either phones to their ears, or clients inside their offices.