The Mafia Wife's Revenge novel · Chapter 13 of 24

Chapter 13: The Car

The old boss gave us until midnight to bring him the car.

Damian stood, buttoned his jacket and walked out past me without a glance.

At the door he stopped beside Vernon and spoke so low that no one else could have caught it.

I caught every word.

"Make it a scrap heap."

Vernon nodded once and followed him out.

"They're going to crush it," I told Cillian.

"How do you know?"

"I heard him."

For the first time that day he looked at me.

It lasted one second, and then he was moving.

An old man from the Table stopped him in the hall and pressed something into his palm.

It was the heavy ring with his crew's mark.

"A confession is not a sentence yet," the old man said. "Your men are yours until the verdict."

Cillian put the ring on and took out his phone.

"Maeve. Every man we have, both vans, to Vernon Lowe's salvage yard on Staten Island. Now."

He hung up.

"Forty minutes with no traffic," he said. "They have ten minutes on us, and Damian's driver knows the bridges."

"Then drive faster than he does."

He drove faster than anyone I have ever been in a car with.

I sat on his left, the way he had promised, and I watched the city tear past in strips of orange light.

His good hand was white on the wheel.

His other arm hung stiff in the sling, and I hated that I noticed the rise of his shoulder every time he breathed.

I did not say one word to him on the bridge.

I did not forgive him.

I only wanted him to get there in time.

The yard sat at the end of a dirt road behind a chain-link fence.

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