Page 3 of Above ’N’ Beyond

Jamie twisted his neck enough to identify the man—Sammy Sneakers.

“Tony Mancuso would like a word.” Sammy tipped his head to where Mancuso sat at a table. The chairs on either side of him were empty.

Jamie and Mancuso weren’t assigned to the same chow time. Meaning, someone had paid off the guards to let him into the mess hall while Jamie was there. Even in a maximum-security prison where inmates’ lives were totally controlled, some held a certain amount of power, influence, and authority. Mancuso was one of the biggest shot-callers in Sing Sing.

With Sammy following, Jamie went to Mancuso’s table, noting the guards didn’t make any attempt to stop him.

“Have a seat.” Mancuso pushed his tray of food away and rested his forearm on the table.

Jamie set down his tray, then pulled out a chair and sat, grimacing when the movement pulled at his sutures. “You beckoned?” he said with an intentionally distinct edge of sarcasm. Acting like a wimp in front of a Mafia capo wouldn’t earn him any brownie points.

Sammy sat in the vacant chair on Mancuso’s other side.

Mancuso snorted, his upper lip curving into an arrogant grin. “You’ve got balls. I’ll give you that.”

Jamie didn’t flinch beneath the intensity of Mancuso’s dark stare. “Right now, all my balls wanna do is be left alone to eat dinner.”

Ignoring Jamie’s irritation, Mancuso pointed a finger at him. “You stuck your neck out for me big-time, Santoro. Why?”

Defending him had been the plan all along, but getting shanked in the process might have earned him an entire tray of brownie points he hadn’t figured on. Still, he had to play this cool.

The bait had been dangled. Now the shark was circling the hook, eyeing it suspiciously and trying to determine if it was worth grabbing.

Jamie shrugged. “Seemed like the thing to do at the time.” He glanced down at his injured side. “Now I’m not so sure.”

“You saved my life.” Mancuso thrust out his big, beefy hand. “I owe you a solid.”

Not wanting to seem too eager, Jamie looked at Mancuso’s outstretched hand but didn’t take it right away. After a long moment, he took the other man’s hand and shook.

“I hear you’re gettin’ out in a couple of weeks,” Mancuso said, and Jamie gave a brief nod. “So am I. You got work waiting for you?”

Jamie made a disgusted sound. “Lost my job the second I got locked up.”

Mancuso nodded. “Figured that. When you get out, look me up. I’ll get you some work. I could use a guy who knows how to use his fists. Jimmy ‘The Fist’ Santoro. Has a nice ring to it, dontcha think?”

“What kind of work?” Jamie asked.

Mancuso shrugged. “I’m in the garbage business.” A euphemism for organized crime. “Seriously, look me up when you get sprung.”

For a long moment, Jamie locked gazes with him. “I’ll think about it.”

Mancuso leaned in. “When you’re done thinkin’, come find me.”

“Where?” Jamie asked. In truth, he knew exactly where Mancuso would go. To Upper Nyack, New York. To the pricey home where his mother, Paola Mancuso—the infamous Godmother—lived.

“Nyack. Ask for me at Bianco’s Bistro. If I’m not there, they’ll let me know you’re looking for me.” Mancuso sat back and grinned. “Now. Let’s enjoy this fine meal and give thanks that soon we’ll be dining on my cousin’s fine Italian cuisine with a kick-ass bottle of Chianti.”

Mancuso and Sammy Sneakers dug into their food as if it were a gourmet meal. Jamie pretended to do the same. Inside, all he could think was that the shark had swallowed the bait.

Game on.

Chapter Two

Four weeks later

Bella shoved a hand through her hair, wishing the day were already over. The Thursday lunch rush at Bianco’s Bistro was a madhouse.

Customers’ voices carried on the air, punctuated by laughter and the occasional clinking glasses. The “Boccherini Minuet” played softly in the background. Behind her, Lou called out, “Tomato caprese up. Linguini with clams up.” People loved watching Lou through the big kitchen window.