Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 108623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 543(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“I’ll just get right to it. What was the reason for having Tony take back the money?” I knew he wouldn’t waste time asking how I knew because the boy isn’t an idiot. Of course, he knows I keep my nose in his shit. Hell, his grandfather does the same to me and his uncle Garrett to the point where it’s damn near a tradition.
“If the Feds search her place and find that amount of counterfeit money, she’d never make bail. As it stands, she only tried passing a few grand, a little less than twenty, so there’s room to maneuver. She can lie her way out of this one for as long as it takes to get out on bail.”
“Well, what do you plan to do with the money?”
“Give it back to her, of course, but only when I’m done with her.” His smirk was not to be trusted.
“And you thought of all this before things went down.”
“Yeah! Now I just need her to make bail so I can torment her until they put her away for a long, long time.”
“Son, you, never mind.” What the hell am I going to say to him? I taught him this shit. Never leave your enemies standing; it only breeds contempt and gives them ideas about revenge and other costly shit. “Go on upstairs; I’m still working on the bail thing.” I watched him leave with a sinking feeling in my gut. Being proud and scared at the same time is a new cocktail mix for me.
VICTORIA
“Victoria, little Vicky, is that you?” I turned to the man that was addressing me with scorn. I’d been sitting here in this dingy waiting room forever, expecting Felix to come to get me. I knew that once they saw how much money he had and what a big shot he was that they’d let mom and me go. But I wasn’t expecting this disheveled stranger to approach me out of nowhere, calling out to me as if he knew me. And that name, no one has called me that since….
“Who are you?”
“I’m your father, don’t you remember me?” I got up from the chair and backed away from him slowly, shaking my head as I reached back to the wall for support.
“No, my father is dead.”
“Is that what she told you?”
FELIX
Blessed peace. The house is quiet for once, and I can be sure of a few minutes at least without being harangued by Becky or Victoria, both of whom can’t seem to get over the fact that Gia isn’t here and won’t be any time soon. I’m still not convinced that the Russo kid knows what he’s talking about, but it’s been days, and my daughter still hasn’t reached out. She must be really upset with me.
I know she’s okay; I watched her from afar when they arrived at school this morning. At least I think it was her; the shape and height looked correct, but her hair, that hair that’s so much like her mother’s, who else could it be? I wanted to go to her, but somehow, I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed, plus that boy was hovering around her like the gatekeeper.
I threw the paper with the note Becky had left in the trash, not giving any thought to why she’d done that instead of calling or texting. A look at my watch showed that it was well past time for them to be heading back unless they’d decided to spend the night. Instead of foraging for something to eat for dinner, I poured myself a stiff shot of hundred-year-old Scotch and sat down to unwind and relax. No sooner had I sat down with my head resting back against the overstuffed chair than the doorbell rang.
I got up to answer, more than a little miffed by the interruption. I opened the door to see a group of men in suits, some with those lightweight jackets law enforcement wear with their emblem on the pocket. “Yes, may I help you?” The older gentleman in front held out a sheaf of paper to me.
“We have a warrant to search the premises.”
“A… a warrant, what for?”
“It’s all in there.” He pointed at the paper in my hand as they brushed by me with a dog. I was about to complain that they had the wrong house when I saw the name and address on the warrant. Were they looking for drugs?
“Counterfeit money? What counterfeit money?” No one responded as I followed them around, just proceeded to tear my home apart in their search. The dog alerted at one of the drawers in the master bedroom and the bed before bounding down the stairs and out to the driveway, but after hours of searching, nothing was discovered.
“Is anyone going to tell me what this is about?” One of them passed me a card. “Call the number on there; they’ll explain. Your wife has been arrested in New York for passing counterfeit bills.” My mouth was still hanging open when they left, closing the door behind them.