Chapter Thirty-Six
Brady
I’ve never been to a jail, and I hope I’ll never be back. Running into a burning building was a walk in the park compared to going to the Metropolitan Correction Center to visit Angelo Pini. Lou tried to talk me out of it for days before finally capitulating and setting it up.
Now I’m sitting across from Angela’s father, staring at him through thick glass. Even in an orange jumpsuit he looks all business, like he has an important meeting to get to. His eyes are dark and shrewd and cold.
I pick up the phone, and so does he, looking equal parts bored and deadly.
“Well, this is a surprise,” he says.
Okay, yeah, he is so going to kill me, if Angie doesn’t do it first. This was a dumb idea. What the hell am I supposed to say to a murdering mafia don whose daughter ratted him out to save my dad? “I’m a friend of Angelina’s, sir. My name is Brady McDaniels.”
“I know exactly who you are. How about you tell me what it is you want?”
Well…here goes. “I want to marry your daughter, Mr. Pini.”
I have the distinct impression that Angelo Pini isn’t often surprised. He’s surprised now. “I beg your fucking pardon?”
“I love your daughter, sir. I’d like to marry her.”
He stares at me for what feels like a full minute but may be only a few seconds. I have no idea. I’m wondering if he has snipers on call and one will be waiting for me as soon as I exit onto the street.
Then he laughs, and the harsh sound makes me jump out of my skin. “How the hell are you gonna take care of my daughter? You’re a goddamn fireman. She spends half your annual salary in one month.”
“She’s willing to give that up, Mr. Pini. And I have some money. I got a settlement when my dad died. It’ll put us both through law school, buy her a nice house wherever she wants, and get her a ring.”
“He get hit by a bus or something?” He says it with the hint of a smirk.
“He died evacuating people from the World Trade Center, sir.”
Angelo sits up a little straighter. “I’m sorry to hear that. That was a terrible, terrible day.”
I don’t say anything.
“What is this all about?” he finally asks. “I’m getting the feeling you don’t want my daughter’s money or to get in on The Business. I also get the distinct impression you’re not really seeking my approval or permission.”
“That’s correct, Mr. Pini,” I say. “We don’t want any favors from you. We want to be left alone. That’s all.”
His eyes narrow. “Did you meet in Professor Evangeline Camacho’s Civil Procedure class? Or was it Barney Baker’s Property class? Maybe Cliff Hovarian introduced you at Finnegan’s.”
I swallow.
“Angelina always thought I wasn’t paying attention,” he continues. “I was always paying attention. You being dumb enough to come here and ask to marry my daughter, though? I gotta say, kid, I hadn’t expected that. Almost earns you a little respect.”
“Please don’t come after her.”
I see his hand grip the phone tighter. “She’s my daughter. I would never hurt her.”
“Those girls you trafficked as sex slaves are people’s daughters,” I say. “So forgive me if I’m a little skeptical here.”
For a moment, I think he might find a way to reach through the glass and kill me on the spot. After skewering me with a look that could restore the polar ice caps, he leans forward.
“Despite what you or Angelina may think, I love her. It was a mistake to trust her with business. I knew she was never cut out for it. She wasn’t cut out for any of it.
” His eyes briefly soften before hardening again.
“But I don’t want to lay eyes on her for a very long time if she’s done what I strongly suspect she’s done.
Get her out of New York. Do you understand me? ”
I nod, wondering how I’m managing to sit upright and not throw up. “Yes, sir.”
He leans back again and crosses his arms over his chest. “Although you don’t want it,” he snarls it like he’s offended, “you have my permission to marry my daughter.”
He’s right, I didn’t want it, but I’ll take it.
“Thank you, sir.” I sit forward, prepared to hang up the phone, but Angelo doesn’t move. I settle back in my chair.
“I strongly suspect I’ll be out in time for the wedding,” he says with a bone-chilling smile. “I assume you’ll be busy with all of that and have to discontinue your assistance with my case, correct?”
Hint taken. We stay out of his way, and he’ll stay out of ours. I nod once. My days as an FBI pseudo-informant are 100 percent over, even if my future father-in-law wasn’t the scariest dude I’ve ever met.
“Does she know you’re here?”
I shake my head. “No. She doesn’t.”
That makes him smile, then throw his head back and laugh. “She’s gonna be pissed.” He shakes his head, still smiling at me like I’m the funniest thing he’s ever seen. “Good luck, kid. Make my little girl happy.”
“That’s all I’ll live for, sir.” We hang up the phones, and I leave.