“Your family know?”
The smile disappears from his face at the mention of his loved ones and he averts his eyes to the other inmates visiting with their families and not their biker buddies.
“I told Gracie her last visit up,” he says, turning back to me. “The woman I thought would love me until my death is starting to hate me.”
“Brother, I’ve been in that woman’s presence quite a few times, even after they locked your ass up, she’s got nothing but love for you. The kind that doesn’t die when you do but finds you long after your ass is buried. That woman will be loving you even as the flames climb your limbs and drag you to hell.”
His face remains still as stone as he digests my words, giving them some thought before he finally speaks.
“You’d know first-hand how easily those flames can climb,” he quipped.
That I do.
There are still times I close my eyes and zone out to the memory of Jimmy Gold’s body helplessly hanging as the flames danced up his body. The image is so vivid and so real I can almost smell the flesh burning, and fuck me, it excites me.
“My lawyer came here yesterday, the transfer is set for the Friday after next.”
“Two weeks,” I reply, blowing out a ragged breath. They were transferring him to a maximum security prison down south where our number one enemy was caged. Victor would make that motherfucker meet his maker. The G-Man was going down and Victor Pastore was the one making it happen. One last hit for the mobster everyone knew and loved.
“You’ll get word once the job is done,” he assured. “Retribution will finally be served.”
Retribution for the sins my club committed under our previous president’s reign. Retribution for those kids that died on Blackie’s product, for the stash his wife ingested when she killed herself. Retribution for my brother, Danny’s death, and the scars on Reina’s body. Retribution for Vic’s underboss, Val.
But retribution came with a price and that price was Vic’s life. Sure, he was living on borrowed time but once he ripped the life from our enemy he’d be thrown in solitary, spending the rest of his days by himself with nothing but the past to haunt him and the devil waiting to greet him.
My eyes lock with his as I realize this is goodbye, the last time Vic and I will be face to face. What started off as an alliance between outlaws to keep New York clean of drugs became a brotherhood of sorts. We were different and yet the same, both of us ruled different aspects of our city and our partnership allowed us to maintain control over our interests. When I first met Vic, I knew nothing about the man other than what the newspapers printed but then he shook my hand and from that very first handshake I knew he’d have my back and my club’s.
“I came here looking to raise hell on your ass for springing this shit with Rocco on me,” I start.
“He’ll do for you and your club what I no longer can,” he interrupts. “He’s young and he’ll probably make a ton of mistakes, just like you and I did when we were first starting out but he’ll always back your club.”
I shake my head as I continue to stare at him.
“You don’t know defeat do you, brother?”
“Defeat is for the weak,” he announces, bowing his head for a moment before lifting his eyes to mine again. “Rocco wasn’t my plan, Anthony always was, he was the man who I wanted to take control over my business. He was my plan, but he was also my daughter’s plan. I had to choose between Anthony being the man who ruled my empire or the man who guarded my daughter from that same empire. Plans change, Jack, you know that better than anyone.”
“Ain’t that a fact,” I sigh, leaning forward on my elbows as I pin him with a hard stare. The man could read people and I knew when he looked back at me he saw the sincerity in my eyes.
“I got you, Vic, and I got your girls as long as I’m breathing I’ll always make sure they are. Business will always be business but family is family. I can’t make any guarantees on the streets but you have my word your girls will always have a place in the Satan’s Knights family.”
I extend my hand across the table, watching as his eyes divert from mine to my hand and back. He slides his hand into mine, his grip just as firm as all those years ago.
The first handshake when he had my back.
And now the last handshake when I promise to always have his.
Dead or alive.
Heaven or Hell.
“You’re good people, Parrish,” Victor says.
“You’re not so bad yourself you guinea bastard,” I joke, giving him one final firm shake before dropping our hands. Victor chuckles, tipping his chin toward me as I brace my hands on the edge of the table and push out my chair to leave.
“See you on the other side, brother,” I rasp, standing on my feet.
“I’ll have the scotch waiting for you, Parrish.”
I could see it—me and him knocking back a couple of shots before we tangoed with the devil and paid for our sins in the afterlife.