Free Hopelessly Yours by Ellery Rhodes Page B

much easier if I could find that kind of bliss. I could remember the way it tasted, back when I was naive and believed that I would be like some mob avenger, taking out guys who looked at the wrong girl sideways or worse. That delusion was shattered when I went to some shithole trailer to collect on a delinquent loan. The guy was a fucking junkie, and something had told me he'd been one for a long time. He was jittery and incapable of making any real promise or signing any real contract. When he told me he had no money and dropped to his knees, promising me he'd do anything, I pitied him. And then I pitied myself. You didn't join the Macone family and have a conscience. Even if I wanted to spare him, it meant someone would be paying me a visit. It was him or me.
    When I got back home, my body wrapped in blood-splattered clothes and my hands shaking, my uncle had embraced me for the first time in my life. He told me he was proud of me. When he asked me if I had fun, I knew there was only one right answer to that question. So I lied and said yes.
    I snapped back to the present, where Uncle Tommy was giving me a once-over. His eyes settled on my face. "Good. You're dressed. My usual driver is out of state until the weekend, and Macone needs something done." His voice was as serious as his expression. "Will you ride with me?"
    I hated to admit it, but I swelled with pride that he even asked me. I was a grunt. Disposable. But my uncle was like Macone's general, and he was asking me to be his right hand man.
    "Absolutely. Just let me take a shower—"
    "Nah, we have to go now. We have a tiny window of opportunity. In and out." He cracked the tiniest of smiles. "It's not a date, kid. I don't care if you stink up the place."
    I smiled back. "Your funeral."
    We hit the road and I followed his directions. The radio gave us all the conversation we needed, seamlessly filling the dead silence. When I realized we were pointed toward the good side of town, not too far from Victoria's house, curiosity won over.
    "Where we headed?"
    "To pay your old friend a visit."
    I nearly slammed on the brakes, all my hackles snapping up at once. Did Macone know about Victoria? I didn't relax until we cruised past the turn you had to take to get to her house.
    I didn't press and didn't say a word because I was afraid I'd do something crazy like cry tears of joy. I put on the mask of indifference, even though inside I still had the scratching discomfort.
    Someone was going to have a very bad morning.
    "All right, park on the side street beside the old Cullen's Jewelry."
    I obeyed, leaving the engine running. My uncle reached in the backseat, pulling out a bag that had Benton's Athletic Supply in white acrylic letters.
    “Benton’s been chatting with the DA.”
    I peered around us and asked a silent question. My uncle gave a crisp nod, heading out the door. "I’ll be right back."
    That fucking uncomfortable tightness in my chest returned.
    If my uncle was here, it was bad news for Benton.
    My uncle's face was probably the last face he'd ever see.
    The thrill of accompanying him on a ride dwindled to nothing. My heart roared in my ears. I couldn't keep still, drumming my fingers on the steering wheel. Checking the clock.
    I couldn't believe Mark would be so stupid. Macone had people in the DA's office. There was no safe haven, no deals to be made. The minute you signed on the line with Macone, you might as well sign in blood—because that's what it cost if you wanted out.
    "Fucking idiot," I muttered. I wasn't sure if I was talking about myself or Benton. Maybe both. I'd been dumb enough to think that I'd find purpose in working with Macone, but I'd sold my soul. Benton had been dumb enough to think that Macone didn't insure his investments with fists and bribes. No one ratted on Macone.
    No one.
    I peered out the passenger side window. My uncle was done with his business. His gait was relaxed. Powerful. Made sense—he'd just delivered a message from the