Mob Lawyer 3: A Legal Thriller Page 6

  My eyes traveled up the lithe body covered in a silky maroon dress to the beautiful face of Alessia Pizzano. She was just as gorgeous in person as she was in her pictures, and I wondered how she’d spent this much time as a single woman.

  “Alessia?” I said as I approached the lovely woman and offered my elbow.

  “Hunter,” she replied warmly and hooked her arm through mine.

  I could practically feel the waves of jealousy from the men on the outside patio as I escorted my date into the restaurant. We were seated at a table in a corner with windows on two sides, but it was away from the majority of the evening crowd.

  Our waiter appeared before we’d even had a chance to talk, and I ordered a bottle of rose wine for our table.

  “Oh, wine on our first date?” Alessia teased, and I noticed her mischievous smile was accompanied by deep dimples at the corners of her mouth. “How very brazen of you. What if I don’t drink?”

  “Well, if that’s the case, I’m going to be very drunk, and you’ll have to take me home,” I shot back with a grin. “If you do drink, then we both get a little tipsy and enjoy our dinner. It’s a win-win.”

  “Clever,” she laughed and glanced over the menu. “What do you normally get here?”

  “If you like spicy food, go for the andouille sausage,” I suggested. “If it was the right time of year, they would have a bunch of game meat like elk and boar. I suppose we’ll just have to come back for that.”

  “Already planning our second date, Mr. Morgan?” Alessia arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You’re very confident.”

  “Right now, I’m confident you’ll like the food,” I replied and winked. “I haven’t determined yet if I can be confident about anything else.”

  “I see,” she murmured, clearly amused with my tactics. “So, you’ve decided to come to the light side?”

  “Depends on if the Jedi allow me,” I chuckled. “No, I haven’t decided yet, but I’ve heard some things that have me on the fence about it.”

  “What do you mean?” Alessia leaned forward and focused her bright hazel eyes on me.

  “Well, there have been more than a few rumors about some news story that’s going to shed some light on corruption in the DA’s office,” I said quietly and tried to gauge her reaction.

  Genuine surprise covered her features, and she covered her mouth with one hand.

  “Is this source reputable?” she asked after a deep breath. “I mean, I’ve seen a few things, but… Do they have any evidence of this?”

  “That’s my understanding,” I confirmed. “I just worry about applying for the office and then being tied up in some kind of scandal. I’m sure you wouldn’t want that, either.”

  “God, no!” Alessia gasped. “I’m trying to make a name for myself with my outreach so I can eventually work my way up to be a judge. I can’t be involved in any shit like that.”

  “I figured as much.” I nodded sagely. “It’s just--”

  “Your wine,” our waiter announced as he popped the cork and poured us each a glass.

  We waited in silence until he finished and took our orders, and I took a sip of the fruity pink drink while I gathered my thoughts again.

  “Anyway, my source tells me the story will rock city hall, which means the election could turn into a circus,” I continued. “But how much can we trust reporters?”

  “I’m not sure your friend is wrong,” Alessia murmured and swished her wine glass around as she stared out the window. “I mean, Jordan does great work usually…”

  “Usually?” I pressed when she didn’t continue.

  “Well, he was really great when I first started in his office,” she clarified, then she took another sip of her wine and sighed. “Now, it feels like he isn’t really the one in charge anymore.”

  “Who is?” I was surprised at her admission.

  “Honestly, I think Mayor Webber and Chief Flores make more decisions about who we prosecute and to what extent than Jordan does anymore,” she said with a frown. “It’s not every case, but when they show up to the office, we all know whatever plan we had for the defendant is about to change.”

  “How so?” I wondered.

  “Like, we may have been planning to press charges for distribution, but suddenly, Jordan says we’re pleading them down to misdemeanor possession with time served,” the ADA explained. “Or someone we considered a plea deal for is now being charged with a much higher-level felony.”

  “What happens if you just do it your way?” I drummed my fingers on my thigh under the table.

  It felt like I was finally getting somewhere in finding the head of the snake, and Mayor Webber was slithering higher up on my list of suspects.

  “Ahhh,” she hummed and laughed without humor. “Well, sometimes our witnesses decide they’re no longer interested in testifying, or they just disappear altogether. Oh, or my favorite, the evidence we had in the case is no longer viable.”

  “Viable?” I cocked my head to the side in confusion. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, some rookie cop accidentally tagged it wrong and ruined the chain of evidence,” Alessia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Or it goes missing from the evidence locker, an oldie but goodie.”

  “What does Jordan say when something like that happens?” I couldn’t imagine the highly respected DA was okay with following the mayor or the chief’s orders when it came to his cases.

  “Once he’s lost his mind for a few minutes, he says we should just take the advice of our fellow members of the justice system since we’re all on the same team.” She used air quotes when she talked about justice. “Like they give a rat’s ass about justice.”

  “And you don’t think Jordan’s part of their little schemes?” I wondered. “He can’t be dumb enough to just let them run the show, right?”

  “I don’t think he’s dumb,” Alessia mused and chewed on her bottom lip in a way that made me squirm for a moment in my chair. “I just think he’s weak. He lets them run all over him, and he doesn’t do a damn thing about it. And maybe he’s just tired. He’s spent all those years fighting the good fight, and now the rats have taken over.”

  “Is that why his campaign is so pitiful?” I remembered the short blurbs I’d seen about his attempt to get re-elected. “Is he looking to get out of the game?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she agreed. “He’s probably tired of being bullied by those two. He’s technically declared his candidacy, but he’s really not trying that hard, and he doesn’t talk about his position like he’ll have it next year.”

  “So, this Chatel guy is a shoo-in,” I muttered. “And he’s already been endorsed by the mayor, so it will be a lot easier for Webber to get his way on the cases.”

  “Yeah, I have a feeling he’d be much worse,” the ADA huffed and drained the last of her glass. “At least Jordan started out with a spine. This guy is already an invertebrate.”

  I was still laughing at her statement when the waiter appeared with our food. I could smell the peppers and spices on our plates before he set it in front of us, and I wafted the aroma toward me as I grabbed my fork and prepared to dig in.

  Our serious conversation turned lighthearted as we discussed what we’d done since leaving school. I recounted the horrible experience of corporate law and its scumbags, and danced around her questions about my current clients.

  “It’s not exactly defense, but I’ve been doing some pro bono work with a hospice clinic for patients who can’t afford attorneys,” I said to avoid talking about Anthony. “We help them put together wills and such.”

  “That’s really amazing work,” Alessia replied. “It sounds very rewarding.”

  “I feel pretty good about helping them,” I agreed. “But what about you? Your prison reform work is seriously fascinating.”

  “Well, I just feel like if we want people to stop finding their way back into the criminal lifestyle, we should offer them another one,” she explained as she sipped on her second—
or maybe third— glass of rose. “How are they supposed to go get a real job if all they know how to do is sell drugs?”

  “What got you into that line of community work?” I wondered. “I feel like I’ve known you for so long, but I don’t know much about your personal beliefs.”

  “That’s because you were more interested in seeing my boobs,” she teased, and I could feel a blush creep up my neck while she giggled. “Anyway, my sister was incarcerated at eighteen for driving the getaway car for her boyfriend’s convenience store robbery. She had to finish her senior year of high school in jail, and while everyone else her age went to college, she sat in her pod or went to rec for a couple hours a week doing absolutely nothing to better herself.”

  “Wow,” I breathed. “I’m sorry, I had no idea.”

  “No, I didn’t want anyone to know,” the chestnut-haired beauty replied and then waved me off. “I was ashamed of it for years, but the more I studied law, the more I realized there was no way she was alone in the struggle she had once she got back. It’s hard enough to find a job when you check the ‘convicted felon’ box, but she had no marketable skills, no certifications, no job experience. She was so desperate to provide for herself, she said she considered stealing some stuff she could pawn for cash.”

  “Well, yeah, she’s young, has no adult experience, and still has to make a living,” I murmured. “I guess I’ve never really thought about it before.”

  “And most people haven’t,” Alessia agreed. “We think criminals just go to jail as punishment, and if they screw up again, they go back. No one has really worked on a way to make jail a rehab for avoiding the second screw up.”

  “You’ve convinced me,” I chuckled. “Maybe you should run for Jordan’s spot.”

  “For the District Attorney?” Her hazel eyes sparkled with amusement. “I’m barely above the minimum age, and I’ve barely practiced law. I doubt anyone would vote for me. Maybe in a few more years.”

  “You never know,” I replied with a shrug. “You’re brilliant and beautiful. That’s a deadly combination in politics.”

  “You think I’m beautiful?” Alessia asked and polished off her glass of wine.

  “Stunning,” I answered in a low voice. “I’ve barely been able to take my eyes off you since we got here.”

  “Don’t make me blush,” she teased as she turned away before her cheeks reddened any darker.

  Our server set the check on the table, and I slipped him my card while Alessia stared out the window. Her eyes were unfocused as she watched the crowds pass by under the streetlight, and I made a quick decision.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” I asked.

  “Home,” she repeated and turned her attention back to me. “Oh, right, that’s okay. I can take a cab.”

  “That’s silly, my car is right outside,” I insisted, thankful I’d decided to drive. “I want to make sure you get home safe.”

  “You’re probably right,” the ADA sighed and smirked. “Your wine plan didn’t have an option for if I drank most of the bottle.”

  “Got me there,” I laughed as I took my card back from the waiter and scribbled out a tip on the receipt. “Ready?”

  “Whenever you are,” she agreed.

  We rose from the table, and I guided her outside and around the corner to my car. She whistled dramatically as I pulled open the passenger door and helped her into her seat. I climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  “Where are we headed?” I asked.

  Alessia rattled off an address I didn’t recognize, and I typed it into my car’s GPS since I didn’t currently trust her ability to tell me where to go. I pulled into the lighter night traffic and began to follow the directions.

  After a few turns, I noticed a pair of headlights creeping closer and closer to the rear end of my car. Before I could ask if my passenger recognized the vehicle, a flash of red and blue lit the cabin of my car.

  I glanced down at my speedometer and confirmed I wasn’t over the limit, but the lights persisted, and I slowed down to find a place to pull over. I stopped on the side of a commercial street near the loading zone and put the car into park.

  “What’s going on?” Alessia asked in a drowsy voice before she blinked and sat up straighter. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Nah, I wasn’t speeding or anything.” I shrugged. “I’m not sure what I did.”

  There was a tap on my window, and I rolled it down to find the police officer peering into my car from behind his flashlight. I shielded my eyes and cleared my throat.

  “License, insurance, and registration,” the cop’s deep voice boomed into my ears, and I nodded as I reached for the glove compartment. “Hey, hey, nice and slow.”

  “I’m getting what you asked for, sir,” I responded mildly. “Can you put down your flashlight? I can’t see your badge.”

  “The flashlight is for my safety,” he shot back, and his voice dripped with disdain. “Now, do you have your papers or not?”

  “I do,” I confirmed as I slipped the packet containing my documents from the box and added my license from my wallet. “I would like to know why I was pulled over.”

  “You failed to signal before you changed lanes,” the officer muttered as he examined my license. “That’s a safety hazard to other drivers. Of course, now I can tell that might not be the only problem. Have you been drinking, Mr. Morgan?”

  “I have not consumed more than what is legally allowed in order to safely operate a vehicle, Officer.” I replied.

  I had immediately shifted into attorney mode at the cop’s insinuation that I was driving under the influence.

  “I’ll need you to step out of the vehicle,” he demanded as he finally lowered the flashlight and tugged on the handle of my door.

  My eyes immediately registered the name Nelson emblazoned on a silver plate below a badge reading 7329.

  “Officer, I believe there’s been a misunderstanding,” Alessia intervened before I lost my cool. “My name is Alessia Pizzano, and I work--”

  “Yeah, I don’t really give a shit,” Officer Nelson cut her off with a smirk. “I’ll take your ID, too.”

  “Well, this is my badge for the Brooklyn District Attorney’s office,” she declared as she pulled the card out from her purse. “And I find your behavior to be extremely inappropriate.”

  “Look, Ms. Pizzano, I find drunk drivers to be extremely inappropriate,” he scoffed as he glanced at the ID. “And attorneys, too. We’ve had enough of you and your office butting in where you don’t belong. Now, Mr. Morgan, get out of the car.”

  “To be clear, I’ll leave my vehicle of my own free will in order to discuss my alleged traffic violation with you,” I announced as I unbuckled my seatbelt and pushed my door open. “If you’d like to discuss anything further, I’ll have to call my attorney.”

  “You are an attorney,” Nelson snickered and rolled his eyes. “You guys always travel in packs?”

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep our conversation around the topic of the alleged traffic violation,” I replied as I glanced over the officer.

  He was big, much bigger than I’d realized since I was blinded by his light. His mocha skin was mottled with acne scars, like he’d done a bunch of steroids, and I could practically see his muscles flexing under the dark blue uniform before something else caught my eye.

  Nelson had the black circle of a body cam pinned to his chest, but I didn’t see the blinking red light turned on. He seemed to catch my observation and grinned.

  “Is something bothering you, counselor?” he asked.

  “Why is your body cam off?” I demanded and clenched my jaw. “You’re required to turn it on for any interaction with a suspect.”

  “Are you a suspect?” Nelson held his hands up in mock innocence. “I thought you were just a concerned citizen who required my assistance.”

  “I’m guessing your dash cam is off, too,” I retorted and turned to reach for my door. “I’m leaving. Y
ou have no right to detain me.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere until you get this message,” the officer thundered as he grabbed my arm and spun me back around to face him. “You better stop talking to reporters who don’t know what the fuck they’re talking about before you get yourself hurt.”

  My first instinct was to grab his wrist and crank it over until I had him on his knees, but I tamped down my anger and stayed calm.

  “Is that a threat, Officer?” I straightened my back to stare into his dark eyes.

  “I don’t make threats,” Nelson answered in a low voice and placed a large hand on the hood of my car with a thud. “I tell you what the consequences of your actions would be. You and your boss don’t scare us, and no one would be surprised if some low-level Mafia lawyer got picked up by the police.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted. “I’m a private practice attorney.”

  “You’re one of Febbo’s guys,” he snorted. “I bet if I search your car right now, I’d be able to find something to arrest you for.”

  He tapped the chest pocket of his shirt and chuckled, and I wondered what evidence he kept in there to plant on whoever he and his puppet master decided to put into jail.

  “I defend people from bogus criminal charges for a living,” I laughed. “You think I wouldn’t be able to convince a jury that you framed me?”

  “It’ll be hard to tell people your side of the story when your jaw is wired shut, Morgan,” Nelson whispered as he lowered his face so close I could see every ridge and valley of his scars. “I’m sure you’d put up a good fight. I hear you know a little karate. But, hey, all that can be avoided if you just keep your nose clean, yeah?”

  “Yeah, I can do that,” I muttered as I kept my clenched fists at my sides.

  The last thing I needed now was a fight with a cop and a night in jail. It would take days, if not weeks, to sort it out, and that was if I could get a prosecutor who would believe me. Being in Brooklyn right now, I didn’t like my odds of getting out of that situation unscathed.