Accardi (Genevieve and Matteo) by Allison Franklin novel Chapter 129

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty–Nine

Matteo walked into the mess hall and swept his gaze across the room. It was the first time since he was brought in two days ago that he was allowed into the common area. There were about one hundred men sitting down to eat their lunch. While his stomach growled with the need for food, he had much more important matters to attend to.

He and Frankie spent yesterday morning in meetings with Roman and then Matteo spent his afternoon being interrogated by Bennett. His eye twitched as he recalled how Bennett mentioned seeing his wife and how devastated she seemed. It was a trick. Smoke and mirrors to try to sway him to give up information to protect his wife. If he knew Gen, though, it was that she would never show a sniveling rat like him any weakness.

“The guards are ours?” Frankie asked, his eyes glued to a table in the far corner where six Russians were huddled over their trays.

Matteo looked at the uniformed men lazily walking through the eatery. “Mhmm.”

“There’s Philip and Greg. We can start there and then when you’re done I’ll take care of my business.”

“How sweet of you to let me go first,” Matteo said as they sidled between tables in pursuit of his objective.

“The guards will have no choice but to act when I start,” Frankie revealed.

Matteo glanced over at his friend but Frankie’s focus was singular. As they approached the table, Greg’s eyes found his and a grin split his cheeks.

“Mr. Accardi!” Greg bellowed, standing up and gripping Matteo in a tight hug. He slapped Matteo on the back. “How you doin‘, Boss?”

“Doing great, Greg. Orange is really my color, don’t you think?” Matteo said with a roll of his eyes.

“Oh come on,

it’s not so bad.”

“Says the guy getting paid a mil a year to be here,” Frankie mumbled.

“True,” Greg relented with a bob of his head from side to side. “We both know the two of you won’t be here for long though.”

Matteo glanced down at the man who had shifted his body and eyes away from him the moment Greg spoke. “Are these seats taken?” Matteo asked.

“Course not!” Greg answered. “Made my other two guys move when I heard you were coming in. Sit, sit,” Greg said, flailing his hands at the two empty seats.

Matteo chose the seat across from Philip who pretended to have an otherworldly interest in his meatloaf. “How’s life in the pen treating you, Greg?” Matteo

asked.

“You know me, love the gossip. Love getting the scoop. I like being of use. My lady likes the money which makes her like me. Can’t complain too much, I suppose. Isn’t that right, Phil?” Greg asked, trying to bring Matteo’s objective into the conversation.

Phil’s eyes rose like a snap to give Greg a look of warning.

“Philip, as in Philip Whittaker?” Matteo asked as if he didn’t already know. “The same Philip Whittaker who was best friends with Michele Galante until he bent over and let his so–called friend take everything near and dear to him?”

Philip continued to ignore him. The only sign he heard Matteo was the whites of his knuckles against the fork he gripped tightly in his hand.

“Want me to take over?” Frankie asked, taking a piece of cheese from Greg’s tray.

3:58 pm M

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty–Nine

Matteo sighed. “Down, Frankie. I got this.”

“You got nothing.” Philip growled.

Matteo’s eyes locked back on the older man whose shoulders were slumped forward as if he’d completely given up on life. “No?”

Philip’s eyes lifted. “No.”

Matteo leaned forward. “Let me tell you what I do have, hm? I have a woman at 4675 Dolphin Lane Miami, Florida. Pretty blonde with thick hips and thicker

tits who likes to take a walk along the beach every sunset and sunrise to keep that fuckable ass of hers in shape. I have a young boy on the cusp of manhood

looking for his place in this world… Say, Frankie, we have a need for young men at the tracks, don’t we?”

“Always, Boss. Too many thugs waving AKs around nowadays.”

“That they do,” Matteo continued, maintaining eye contact with the informant in front of him. “Then there’s his pretty twin sister who follows her mother

around like a lost puppy, crying every day for her missing Daddy.” Matteo leaned forward even more. “Then there’s Mira.”

Philip slammed his fist down on the table and pointed his fork at Matteo. “Enough.”

“Maybe I’ll tell Conor where she is, hm? Let him drag her back into the world you so desperately wanted her to have no part in.”

“Michele and I had a deal!” Philip yelled, drawing the attention of nearly everyone in the room.

“I’m not Michele, now am I? I’m just a man who knows all his secrets… Well, most of them. You’re going to help me with the rest.”

“You think I’d roll over, just like that? You come in here and within five minutes I tell you all the dirt and you just walk out like nothing ever happened?”

Frankie snorted. “Yeah, pretty much.”

“Fuck you,” Philip sneered before he spat at the floor.

A guard walking behind them smacked Philip upside the head. “Watch where you’re spitting.” The same guard gave Accardi a nod before he walked off.

Philip mashed his teeth together and started piling food into his mouth, perhaps thinking if he finished his meal, he could be finished with this

conversation. Matteo sat back and observed the man. Of his wife and three kids there was only one that set him off.

“Were you told what they did to her?” Matteo asked.

Philip rolled his eyes and continued shoveling,

“I saw pictures of what they did, after Conor left her alone in London crying at a train station.”

Philip’s manic eating slowed.

“The last I heard she was being let out of the hospital finally, though I can assure you, she’ll never be the same.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Philip asked, his eyes filled with defiance while his tapping fingers expressed his anxiety.

“The Irish and what they did to your daughter,” Matteo answered cryptically.

Philip shook his head. “Michele made a deal. She’s safe.”

2/4

3:58 pm

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty–Nine

“She is… now. She wasn’t… then.”

“What the fuck are you getting at?”

Matteo sighed. “What I’m getting at is a picture I saw a few months ago. A picture of your daughter’s womb wrapped in a box like a fucking present.”

The fork in his hand clinked to the metal tray. Matteo had just broken a cardinal rule between him and his two Don cousins. No one ever spoke of what was discussed in a meeting between the families. He didn’t care. Michele had crossed too many lines himself. Something tapped Matteo on the shoulder and he brushed it away as though it were lint. He needed to stay focused on Philip. He was close to breaking, he just needed a few more points to hammer home that… The tapping increased in rapidity and he sighed before glancing up at the tall, tattooed man hovering above him. He looked familiar but Matteo couldn’t quite place him.

“Accardi,” the man said with a nod.

“Man tapping me on the shoulder while I’m in an important conversation,” Matteo answered back.

The stranger smirked. “You forgot me already?”

“It would appear so.”

“A few years back you had me running money for your track upstate. I took a few dollars and you pinned a murder on me.”

Matteo looked more closely at the man and then it clicked. “Ah, yes, Jenkins, right?”

Jenkins‘ eyes narrowed. “That’s me.”

Matteo stood up but even standing at his full height, Jenkins had nearly six inches on him. He didn’t let it bother him. “I do remember you. I remember you taking more than a few dollars though. Two million, right, Frank?”

“Two point seven,” Frankie answered.

“Two point seven,” Matteo said with a whistle. “More than a few dollars. I also recall that when my guy came to collect said two point seven million dollars,

you killed him with a tire iron. Or is my memory still failing me?”

“We had a deal,” Jenkins growled. “I didn’t get paid what I thought the deal was worth.”

“What you thought the deal was worth?”

Jenkins shoved Matteo, knocking his shoulder. “Yeah, you fucking rich, Italian faggot, You sit in your fucking high rise, not knowing what people like me go through. What I took was pocket change for you.”

“Maybe so…” Matteo answered. “But it was my pocket change,”

Matteo made an exaggerated motion acting like he was going to punch Jenkins with his left hand. Jenkins smiled and stepped sideways, lining himself up perfectly for Matteo’s right fist. The blow to Jenkins face resonated through the room, but not as much as his head cracking against the table. Matteo didn’t let up, he took Greg’s metal food tray and slammed it against Jenkins‘ face until blood splattered across the table and Jenkins was limp.

Seizing the opportunity in the middle of the chaos, Frankie stood up from his chair and pulled something from his pocket that was long, thin and metallic: mattress springs tied together. Matteo ignored Frankie’s exit so that he could haul Jenkins‘ body further onto the table. He stood up on the table himself and planted his foot on Jenkins‘ chest while he surveyed the curious inmates around him.

“My name is Matteo Accardi. This man here is right, I’m a silver–spoon, Italian businessman but I know how to use my hands and my woman loves when I

3/4

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty–Nine

get my knuckles bloody so if you want to take a run at me… This is your invitation. But I’ll warn you. The guards who sat by watching while I turned this man into pulp will do the same for you if you take a run at me.”

Matteo’s eyes found Frankie. He didn’t speak as the Russians stood to intercept the man on a mission. Frankie unwound the long metallic wire from his one hand so he could grasp it firmly by both. The first Russian moved forward. Frankie raised his arms, caught the Russian around the throat and twisted. The wire sliced through the first man’s neck, leaving him trying to clog the two inch deep wound while he choked on his own blood.

The second Russian came forward. Frankie was forced to dodge a few haymakers before he managed to wrap the wire around this man’s arm, slicing it deep before he caught the man in the neck with another clean slice to the carotid artery. The second man fell forward on his knees. Two others made their move, trying to protect their boss who stood watching Frankie’s advance as though he were watching the grim reaper himself. The two protectors each ended up in a pool of their own blood before they could land a single hit. Of the two men left, only one remained rooted while the other fled.

Frankie’s smile was sinister as he used the wire to slice the remaining man’s skin with each attempted defensive attack until the man was on the ground, bleeding out on the floor from multiple wounds while crying out for help from the guards. Frankie looped the bloodied mattress spring contraption around

the man’s ankles and started hauling him toward a custodial closet where he could continue his work in private. A pool of blood stretched across the floor in

his wake.

Matteo sighed as the guards stood frozen in shock. “And that is my associate, Frankie Donati. He’s… he’s with me. I think.” He shoved Jenkins‘ body off the

table and wiped his blood covered hands along his jumpsuit. He let out a breath, took a sip of water and laced his fingers together. “Now, Philip, where were

we?”