Mob Lawyer 3: A Legal Thriller Read online

  Then I realized his identity didn’t matter right now.

  The trio was obviously this guy’s backup, and I wasn’t going to succeed in taking on all of them at once. I delivered one more kick to the winded attempted kidnapper’s ribs before I sprinted back to my car and hopped in the driver’s seat.

  “Go!” Alessia screeched as one of the men from the SUV appeared at her window.

  I stomped on the gas and peeled out of the parking spot without a second thought. I glanced in the rearview mirror as the men carried their buddy back to the SUV, and I veered off the beaten path to wind back and forth on side streets in case they tried to follow us.

  “What the fuck was that?” I finally asked once we’d both caught our breaths.

  “Was he trying to mug us?” Alessia wondered. “I wasn’t even carrying my purse yet.”

  “There’s no way that was a standard mugging,” I argued. “There were three more ready to help that guy finish taking you somewhere.”

  “Three?” she squeaked and covered her mouth. “Do you think this is about the election?”

  “It could be,” I said with a brief hesitation. “They weren’t speaking English, though. I can tell you that.”

  Alessia looked deep in thought as I wove through the minimal traffic just as a drizzle began to dampen my windshield.

  “Where are we going?” she wondered as she started to look around.

  “A hotel,” I said firmly. “I don’t know who those guys were or what all they knew, but I’m not leaving you at home.”

  “Seems reasonable,” the ADA agreed as she leaned her head back on the seat. “I’m definitely awake now.”

  “Me too,” I grumbled.

  “Those were some pretty slick moves back there,” she giggled. “I’m guessing they didn’t expect you to be able to manhandle them like that.”

  “I’ve put a lot of work into helping you get this DA thing, so anyone that messes with you better expect a hell of a fight,” I teased.

  Alessia stuck out her tongue and laughed before she returned to staring out the rain-soaked window.

  I found a hotel that was close enough to her apartment that she could get ready there in the morning but still had a parking garage that would keep my car out of plain view. If the SUV guys did come looking for us, they’d have to search the whole garage just to confirm we were here, and hopefully, that would draw some suspicion from the hotel staff.

  We checked in, though the attendant looked a little confused when he saw my torn suit and a lack of baggage. I ignored his curious stare as he handed me the room key, and I guided Alessia to the elevators. Once we were safely locked inside the suite and Alessia was in the shower, I dug my phone out of my pocket and dialed Anthony’s number.

  “Late calls are not usually good news,” my client mumbled. “What’s wrong?”

  “We got attacked,” I said. “Outside her apartment. Four guys in a black SUV.”

  “Did you get a plate?” Anthony suddenly sounded alert.

  “No,” I muttered. “There wasn’t any time. They grabbed her when she was getting out of my car.”

  “Wait, they have her?” he thundered, and I was pretty sure my ears were still vibrating when I answered.

  “No, I fought them off,” I assured him. “Well, one. The others were just coming to back him up when we drove away.”

  “Did you shoot them?” he demanded.

  “Ah, no, I forgot my gun at my place.” I frowned when he sighed in exasperation. “We were supposed to be done for the night. It was a last-minute event.”

  “At least it turned out to be a good one,” he said. “A Senator’s endorsement is helpful, but not worth our candidate getting kidnapped. You have to be more careful, Hunter.”

  “I know,” I mumbled. “She was pretty shaken up, but the thing is, I’m not sure what they wanted her for.”

  “What do you mean?” Anthony pressed.

  “I recognized one of the guys,” I explained as I pictured him in my head. “He was Serbian, and I think he was at the Pietro’s shootout. I swear he was standing by one of the cars outside the restaurant when it all went down.”

  “Are you sure?” my client groaned. “They’re everywhere.”

  “I’m fairly positive,” I confirmed. “And he was yelling at the others in another language when we took off. It sounded Eastern European, but I’m no expert.”

  “Hell, that does complicate things,” he agreed. “They could be after her because she wants to shut down the corruption they’re building, or you because you’re my attorney.”

  “Exactly,” I said as I paced back and forth in the hotel room. “So, what do we do?”

  “I’ll put some feelers out and see if anyone is claiming the attempt,” Anthony decided. “You just keep her safe. She’s the ticket to cleaning the Serbs out of the swamp.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” I murmured. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  We clicked off the call just as the bathroom door opened, and Alessia walked out in a cloud of steam, wrapped in a stark white bath towel.

  “Should I ask who you were talking to?” she asked as she combed her fingers through her wet hair.

  “No.” I yanked off my tie and tossed it on the chair. “Just know that I’ll find out who that was and why they were after you.”

  “Or you.” The brunette smirked as she flopped on the bed and put her hands under her chin to look at me. “You think a Mafia lawyer is safe from criminals?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on right now,” I mumbled and stifled a yawn. “Except that I need some shut-eye.”

  “Ditto,” she agreed and tossed her towel on the floor.

  My eyes opened instead of shutting, and I clambered onto the bed next to the naked attorney.

  A while later, Alessia snored next to me, and my mind rambled on with thoughts about Serbians and kidnappings and campaigns.

  What the fuck had I gotten myself into?

  And who were they really after?

  Chapter 7

  The weeks flew by after Senator Ratcliffe’s endorsement and our attempted attack or kidnapping, though the news had picked it up and called it a mugging. It seemed someone had leaked the story to the Daily News, and Brenda had been more than happy to run with it. She delved into the story like I knew she would, and she posted several editorials that insinuated Alessia had become a threat to other candidates in the race for Brooklyn’s District Attorney.

  Other news sources picked up on her line of thinking, and soon, social media blew up with headlines like “Take Out the Trash” and “Alessia Ali” for her self-defense against the faceless mugger. In fact, I’d made sure the leak hadn’t mentioned her male cohort fighting off her attacker, just to avoid any extra questions about me being at her apartment, and that came with the added bonus of the public seeing Alessia as a total badass.

  Not to mention, keeping me out of the papers had also avoided any link between Alessia and Anthony. His super PAC had been peppering the media with ads for the ADA, and no one had made the connection so far. He’d thrown in a few negative ads about her opponents, but nothing too specific until we had evidence of a connection to the Serbians. For now, it was the usual “what has he really done for you” and “get rid of the slimy politician” bits that anyone could have been supplying to the population.

  Of course, Chatel and Jordan had quickly taken to their own press releases to display their sympathy for Alessia’s attack and firmly deny their role in any mugging, but the internet had already spoken. Twitter and Instagram users all over the borough had come up with a wide array of beliefs, but one had taken hold and trended for the past few weeks. They claimed the trash wasn’t interested in getting cleaned by the Italian ADA, so they’d sent a goon after her to scare her off. Fortunately for our campaign, that belief had paid off.

  Before the story hit the news, Alessia was in third place in the polls. Chatel had a solid lead, and Jordan was just squeaking ahead of her. Now, Alessia had
overcome the incumbent DA and only trailed the mayor’s candidate by twenty percent of the votes. Those were definitely better odds than we’d had just a month ago.

  I scanned the data Bear had sent me this morning and confirmed that Jordan was securely at the bottom of the ladder, and we had officially overcome our first obstacle. Alessia’s speeches impacted the viewers, and when outside forces tried to shut her down, it only compelled the people to support her even more. Bear had seemed to know what he was talking about, and his favorite phrase was “Everyone except the big dogs want the underdog to win.”

  We still hadn’t determined if Alessia was the actual target of the attack, and Anthony’s sources hadn’t heard anything to indicate anyone taking responsibility, so we’d taken what we had and used it to our best advantage.

  The only thing we hadn’t been able to overcome yet was the support Chatel had from Mayor Webber. Despite his annoying opacity and failure to directly answer questions about what changes he’s going to make after the election other than “fighting the Mafia rule”, Webber had a solid following. He reached out to those constituents to vote for Chatel using the idea that if he was doing his job so well, then the candidate he supported would do great, too.

  And it was a crock of shit.

  Chatel’s tweets were vague and boring at best, and luckily, some people had taken notice, but it still wasn’t enough. We had to find a way to finish turning the tides, and we only had a couple weeks left.

  Then my phone buzzed on my coffee table, and I looked down to see Bear’s name on the screen.

  How strange, he didn’t usually call me. He called Alessia for everything. She was still keeping business hours at the office, but she’d always answer his call.

  “Hey, Bear, what’s up?” I answered the phone. “Do you need Alessia?”

  “Turn on your TV,” Bear boomed. “Channel 7, hurry.”

  I fumbled around with the drawer on my end table to find the remote to the TV I hardly ever used and flicked it on. I stared at the sitcom scene for a moment before I changed the channel. Then DA Jordan’s face filled my 36-inch screen, and the banner at the bottom read, “DA’s Updates for Brooklyn Election.”

  “My journey has been long and blessed, but I’m afraid it will come to an end in just a few weeks,” Jordan said with a hint of a smile. “That being said, I am officially withdrawing my candidacy for re-election as the District Attorney of Brooklyn.”

  “What?” I gasped and nearly dropped the phone I forgot I was holding. “He’s out?”

  “Just shut up a minute,” Bear hissed. “He still has to endorse someone.”

  I clamped my mouth shut as Jordan continued.

  “I have considered my decision for several months, and I’m pleased to see one candidate has stood out to me in belief, speech, and action,” he said, and his mouth finally widened into a full smile. “So, I will provide my full support to the one who will hopefully fill my office soon, my friend, my colleague, Ms. Alessia Pizzano.”

  “There you have it, ladies and gentlemen,” the male anchor declared as he tried to recover the stunned look on his face. “District Attorney Jordan has stepped down from the election and endorsed Alessia Pizzano to hopefully take on the role as his successor.”

  “We got it!” Bear bellowed into my ear, and I could hear the cheers and clapping in the background from the campaign office.

  The office had been a new show of support from Rob’s after-school program. Even though the program was low on funds to donate, he’d been determined to help somehow, and after a meeting with Bear, the two had concocted a plan to use an annex building that needed a little repair as our campaign headquarters. We’d spent the first couple days cleaning what felt like a hundred pounds of dust off from every surface and scrubbing a thick layer of mud and grime from the tile floors. Once it was done, the volunteers had piled inside and gotten to work.

  When you walked into the building, you were met with a cacophony of voices, ringing phones, and typing keyboards. The volunteers worked tirelessly to raise funds, poll voters, and look for new ways for Alessia to get involved in the community, which was something she’d specifically requested from the group. She didn’t want to just know how to win, she wanted to know how to earn votes by being involved. It was one of the many reasons she’d started to garner a lot of local support in the community.

  “What does this mean exactly?” I asked Bear once the din had lowered a bit.

  “It means not only did Jordan know she would beat him, but he wants her to beat Chatel, too,” he explained. “I don’t know if it’s because she works for him or what, but it’s a hell of a turning point for us.”

  I had a feeling the DA’s endorsement had nothing to do with Alessia’s job and everything to do with Jordan’s final effort to stand up to Webber and Chief Flores. He knew he hadn’t had the balls to do it during his time as DA, but he obviously knew by now he wouldn’t win re-election, so he had to do what he could to clean up city hall.

  Now, we just had to finish the job by getting Alessia in the lead.

  My phone buzzed against my ear, and I looked to see Anthony was calling on the other line.

  “Hey, I have a client calling, gotta go,” I mumbled to Bear before I clicked over to Anthony. “Did you just watch that?”

  “Hell, yes, I did,” he replied excitedly. “Did you know that was coming?”

  “Not at all,” I said as the realization finally seemed to hit. “She only has one piece of the puzzle left. She can really do this.”

  “We just have to topple Chatel,” Anthony declared. “Come on out to the house. Let’s have a celebratory dinner and talk next steps.”

  “Ah, I’ll tell Alessia I have a client meeting,” I chuckled. “She has a Twitter forum planned for tonight that I’m not sad about missing.”

  “What the hell is a Twitter forum?” my client wondered with a certain degree of confusion.

  “Something about answering a bunch of questions with tweets.” I shrugged. “It’s not my thing. Give me a courtroom over a tiny electronic keyboard any day.”

  “I’d rather not be there, either,” Anthony laughed. “I’ll see you when you get here.”

  He ended the call, and I glanced around my apartment with a sigh. I really needed to find a place closer to Riverhead. It was late afternoon, and traffic on the LIE would be a pain, so it would take me well over an hour to get out to the Febbos, but I wouldn’t decline my only real client’s invitation. Not only did that seem like a bad idea in itself, but his mother’s cooking was also phenomenal, and I didn’t really want to miss out.

  I swapped my sweats for jeans and buttoned up a collared shirt before I slipped my Smith & Wesson into my waistband and grabbed my keys and phone from the table. I jogged past Sulla at the door, and he stopped me with a wave and a smile.

  “Mr. Morgan!” Sulla’s Ugandan accent was thick as he greeted me. “How are things for you? I haven’t seen you go to the office in a while.”

  “Everything is good,” I replied easily. “I got a new job. Private practice.”

  “Ahhh, that does explain the nice, new car and pistol on your hip,” he chuckled. “Congratulations.”

  “Thanks.” I nodded, though I wasn’t sure how I felt about him noticing I carried the weapon now, and I glanced over the part-time doorman. “Have you been working out?”

  The already large man seemed to have widened in the last few weeks, and he laughed a deep, booming rumble before he responded.

  “I took up some martial arts,” he answered finally. “I watched you take on that gunman, and I decided I should do something like that.”

  “Nice,” I said with a grin. “Looking good, man.”

  “Thank you,” he replied. “Have a good night, Mr. Morgan.”

  “You do the same.” I shook my head with amusement as I continued to my car and slid inside.

  Maybe I should have gotten a smaller gun, a compact handgun like the salesman had suggested for a first timer li
ke myself. I’d have to do some more research on what was easiest to conceal.

  I was right about the traffic, and I spent the next hour and a half listening to slow jams and cruising way below the speed limit as I traversed Long Island toward the Febbo estate. I linked my phone to my dash screen as my Twitter feed filled up with announcements about the upcoming forum, and Mateo sent me at least a dozen links to potential questions. I frowned at my phone and replied with my own message.

  Send to Alessia. Headed to a meeting with a client.

  I did. She’s not answering me.

  Okay, she’d ignored Bear’s call and Mateo’s texts? Something wasn’t right.

  I dialed the ADA’s cell and waited for her to pick up.

  “Yeah?” Her breathless voice gave me a sigh of relief.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Everyone’s trying to get a hold of you.”

  “I don’t want to read the questions beforehand,” Alessia sighed. “I told Bear and Mateo I’d rather give honest answers on the spot.”

  “Listen, it’s already frustrated them that you don’t use a speech writer,” I pointed out. “They’ve won because they know what they’re doing. It doesn’t hurt to have some heads up on the questions, just in case you need to do some research. It isn’t any different than looking up similar cases for court. Besides, that’s not even why Bear called you.”

  “It’s not?” She paused for a moment. “What happened?”

  “Jordan dropped out,” I answered excitedly. “And… drumroll please. He endorsed you.”

  “He did?” Alessia gasped and dropped whatever she was holding, and I heard the distinct thump of something hitting her desk. “Holy hell. That’s where he’s been all day.”

  “Guess so,” I said. “He made the announcement a little while ago. Bear called me, and we watched it on the news.”

  “Then we need to celebrate after the forum!” Alessia decided, and I could feel her excitement buzzing. “Drinks? A little more?”