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“O’Brien, put a fucking muzzle on your boy!”
“Kiss my Irish ass, Romano!” the darker-haired Irishman shouted back. “You know if we were on the street, you’d be crying for your ma.”
“As soon as I get outta here, your name is going to the top of my list, asshole.”
O’Brien stood and walked to the bars, spitting through them in the Italians’ direction. “Yeah, you do that, Tony. Until then, give my love to your wife. No one sucks dick like she can, except maybe Joey over there.” He blew the other Italian a kiss.
“Fuck you, Declan!”
One of the corrections guards walked by, bringing a cease-fire to the shouting. As soon as he was gone, the two flipped each other off or pantomimed jacking off before resuming their respective seats.
“So, you hate those fucks as much as we do?” Declan asked in a chipper tone.
The blond — Brehaney — squinted at me, his head cocking. “If you’re the one who got Carmine, that means you’re the one who took out Little Angelo, too.”
His friend whistled low. “Damn. That was some sick shit. I mean that with the highest level of respect.” He smiled and laid his hand over his heart before extending it. “Declan O’Brien. This is Sean Brehaney. North Siders, at your service.”
The blond nodded in acknowledgment of his name.
Leaning forward, I shook Declan’s hand, still mindful to keep my gaze moving between them in case it was some sort of ambush. “Aleksandr Vassiliev.”
“Nice to meet you.”
I inclined my head, retracting my hand again.
Once I’d been deemed an equal, the two went back to talking with each other or harassing the Italians and the guards, saving me from having to talk.
At least I didn’t have to worry about getting shanked in the middle of the night. As the old saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend.
* * *
As the guardspulled everyone out of their cells and lined us up to march to bond call like good little prisoners, one of the jailers grabbed my elbow and led me in a different direction.
“What the fuck?” I snapped, trying to rip my arm free. I’d been separated from the herd before and it was never for a good reason. If this fat bastard thought I was going to go willingly, he was in for a rude awakening.
The guard managed to hang on to my arm, but he sounded bored when he finally answered. “You’re being discharged, buddy, relax.”
Bullshit. “I haven’t been to bond call.”
“No need.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, man. Ask your lawyer.”
The heavy metal door buzzed, letting us into the discharge area. A man in a dark green shirt, unbuttoned to his abdomen, and black trousers was leaning against the desk, laughing and flirting with the middle-aged woman behind the counter.
He straightened slowly and shook the dark hair out of his eyes, regarding me with a smirk I’d recognize anywhere. The fucking peacock.
“Well, well. Even more handsome without the mask.” Bennett walked forward slowly, that cocky quirk to his lips.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked while the guard unlocked the handcuffs and disappeared back behind the door.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m your ride, big boy.” He winked and returned to the messenger bag he’d left at the counter with the receptionist. “Appreciate the help as always, Marcia.”
“You take care of yourself, Bennett.”
He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder and arching an eyebrow. “You coming, or what?”
