Mob Lawyer 4: A Legal Thriller Page 9

  I really had to get a house.

  I walked into my apartment, flipped on the light, and headed for the bathroom. I’d have just enough time to shower and change clothes by the time Liz and the delivery guy arrived.

  A few minutes later, I stepped out of the steamy shower stall to a knock at the door. I wrapped my towel around my waist and plodded to the front door to peek out into the hall.

  Liz stood outside my door, though her eyes were on the hallway behind her. I frowned as I yanked the door open and ushered her inside.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked when she let out a relieved sigh.

  “These two guys were following my cab,” she replied. “I don’t think they followed me up here, but they were definitely outside when I got dropped off.”

  “What guys?” I demanded. “Do I need to go out there? Or I can send Hank.”

  “Couple of suits,” Liz answered and looked down at my towel with a smile. “And I don’t think you should go after anyone like that.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” I tutted. “I’d fight someone naked if I had to. Did you recognize them?”

  “No.” She shook her head and frowned. “I’ve never seen them before.”

  “Asian guy and a young buck?” I asked, and she nodded. “Those are the feds that came to me before. They must have figured out you’ve taken on a few of Anthony’s extra cases as well.”

  “Well, they don’t have to be so damn obvious with their tails,” she grunted as she pulled off her blazer and laid it over the back of the couch. “I’d say surveillance isn’t their strong suit unless they planned to scare me with it. Then they’re doing a damn good job.”

  Liz kicked off her heels and strolled around to plop onto the couch with a sigh.

  “I’m sorry they’re bothering you,” I said and frowned. “I can try to get them to back off, but I don’t see them listening to me unless I tell them something they can use in their case.”

  “Me, either,” she agreed. “And if they keep poking their noses around me, and my firm catches wind of it, I could lose my chance at partner. They take bad PR very seriously, and the feds tailing me is definitely not good PR.”

  The thought of Liz losing out on a huge opportunity made me sick to my stomach, especially when I could do something as simple as talking to the feds to get her out from under their radar. Unfortunately, talking to the agents really wasn’t an option, and I was back to feeling guilty about her involvement in my client’s affairs.

  Liz had spent the past few months in London working on a huge case for her firm that was supposed to be her foot in the door as partner. It was an incredible offer for someone with only a few years practicing law under her belt, and I hated the idea of her losing it because the government couldn’t get its act together.

  “What do you want to do?” I asked as I sat down next to her and took her hands. “I’ll back you one-hundred percent.”

  “I don’t want to sign off as co-counsel,” she said slowly. “I just think maybe a lower profile for now. Once they back off, I can still help out, but I can’t risk it right now.”

  “I completely understand.” I leaned forward to peck her on the cheek. “And I’ll make sure Anthony does, too. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

  “Are you sure?” Liz bit her bottom lip with doubt. “I don’t want you or him to be pissed about it. I love my job, but making partner would be amazing.”

  “It would be,” I said with a nod. “And you’ll get it. I’ll handle courtroom appearances. Maybe you could help with paperwork?”

  “Are you asking me to be your paralegal?” Liz teased.

  “I’ve been considering hiring one,” I shot back and grinned. “You have plenty of experience, and getting to look at you doing all my paperwork would be a pretty tough bonus for anyone else to beat.”

  “I don’t know if you can afford me,” she murmured as her gaze dropped to my bare chest and the towel around my waist. “My price is pretty steep.”

  My desire-filled reply was cut short by a knock at the door.

  “The food,” I groaned. “I’ll get it.”

  I rose from the couch with a great deal of effort and hurried to the door. I practically snatched the bag from the delivery man’s hand and shoved a few twenties in its place. He looked startled as he counted the bills and started to dig for change until I shook my head and closed the door.

  “Thank you!” he called out from the hallway.

  “You have a microwave, right?” Liz asked.

  I whirled around as my co-counsel’s smooth black dress sailed through the air toward me. I tossed the bag of food on the counter and whisked her away to my bedroom, all hunger pains forgotten.

  After a while, we nuked the Chinese food and ate in my bed with the TV on in the background. When both my appetites were satisfied, I looked over to see Liz had fallen asleep with her chopsticks still in her hand. I chuckled softly as I cleaned up our food and turned out the lights. It had been one hell of a week, and we both deserved some sleep.

  As I laid down, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and scrolled through some ads for houses for sale in Floral Park. I had already done some research into the housing market and decided Floral Park was the best option for a few reasons. I liked the various styles of homes available in the neighborhood, and I wouldn’t have to settle for a plain Jane place next to thirty more of its replicas. Plus, Floral Park was just close enough to the city to get to whatever courthouse I was summoned to in a decent amount of time, but it would also cut my drive to the Febbo estate in half with easy access to the LIE. The neighborhoods were nice, though I wasn’t really sure what I wanted.

  No kids meant no need for the three or four bedrooms or a huge yard. Several townhouses looked nice, but the idea of sharing a wall with a neighbor again made my skin crawl. I needed something more secluded and spacious without all the bells and whistles. I downloaded some home-buying apps, saved a handful of houses I liked, and decided to call it a night.

  I passed out within seconds of plugging my phone in for the night, and I awoke hours later to an empty bed and the sound of Brooklyn traffic outside my apartment.

  “Liz?” I called out in confusion.

  Nothing.

  I rolled over to slide out of bed and found a Post-It stuck to my phone.

  Went to grab some breakfast. You don’t have shit to eat here.

  I laughed out loud as I headed for the shower. I smelled like Liz and Chinese food, and as much as I enjoyed both, I needed to get cleaned up before I ventured into the public. By the time I’d toweled off, I heard my front door open and close, and the smell of bacon and eggs filled the apartment.

  I walked out of my bedroom and into the living room to see Liz cooking at the stove while she wore my t-shirt which barely covered her ample rear. I hoped she hadn’t worn just that to the market, but I soon realized a pair of my sweatpants was tossed onto the back of the couch as well, which meant she’d taken them off for me. My mouth watered as my blood rushed south. I wasn’t sure what she was making, but it smelled delicious, and she looked tasty, too.

  “Omelet?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “Definitely,” I confirmed as I glided into the kitchen and wrapped my arms around her hips. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

  “This is one of about four things I can do without a recipe,” she laughed. “It took me ages to figure out how to flip it without breaking it.”

  “I can’t do it at all,” I replied with a shrug. “I guess this is your first job as my paralegal.”

  “Whatever!” Liz giggled and nudged me with her shoulder. “Did you sleep alright?”

  “Like a log.” I smirked as she handed me a plate with a large omelet filled with cheese and bacon. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said with a grin.

  We moseyed into the living room and turned on some lame Saturday morning talk show to watch while we ate. The omelet was fantastic, and I took her to the bedr
oom to thank her profusely before we collapsed onto the bed.

  “Thanks for breakfast,” I exhaled.

  “I’m tempted to make it every morning if this is your normal thank you,” she laughed.

  “Also consider it my down payment on your paralegal services,” I joked, and she stuck out her tongue before she rolled out of bed.

  “I need to shower before I can do anything else,” she decided. “Then I might be convinced to help write some motions for you.”

  “Don’t worry about them today,” I replied. “I want to go look at some houses to buy.”

  The blood drained from Liz’s face as she stared at me with her mouth open wide. I could see her mentally fight to find the right words to say.

  “Hunter, uh, I--” she started awkwardly.

  “Not for us,” I chuckled. “I mean, you’re always welcome to come over, but I’m not asking you to buy a house with me. I just want somewhere that makes more sense, maybe with an actual office for doing the paperwork.”

  “Oh,” Liz sighed with relief. “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll shower and go with you if you’d like.”

  “Sounds great,” I agreed and grinned.

  Within an hour, we were both cleaned up, and Liz borrowed the smallest t-shirt and sweats I had. She frowned as she compared her outfit to my button-up and jeans, so we decided to swing by some store she loved on the way out of Brooklyn. I decided to wait in the car while she did her shopping, though I wondered how long it would take for her to pick out something. I had no idea what women needed to wear to look at houses, and I hoped we’d still have time to look around Floral Park.

  Luckily, she found what she needed in less than thirty minutes, and then she emerged from the store in a red blouse and ripped jeans with another bag in her hands. She hopped in the passenger seat with a grin.

  “You look great,” I said as I took her hand and kissed it.

  “Much better than your sweats,” she agreed.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” I teased. “You look pretty damn sexy in my clothes.”

  We drove across the city toward Floral Park while Liz scrolled through the houses I’d saved on my new app. She navigated the way to the first house, and I curled my lip in disappointment as I surveyed the area around it.

  The overgrown grass of the neighborhood yards had spilled over to nearly cover the “For Sale” sign and the sidewalk out front. The windows were splintered or boarded up, and the stench of urine emanated all the way out to my car.

  “That was not in the pictures,” I grumbled.

  “Oh, you didn’t search for a house next door to a jungle?” she giggled.

  “Definitely not.” I smirked and motioned to my phone. “Now what?”

  “Let’s try the next one,” Liz suggested with a grimace.

  We drove from house to house around the Floral Park area until I’d found three that I really liked. Each had two or three bedrooms, a private driveway, and a cozy feel. I had enough money down and good standing at my bank for whichever one I wanted, thanks to my job and the influx of clients, but I couldn’t decide which one to go for just yet.

  This was a harder choice than I’d anticipated. Every show I watched on HGTV made it seem like you’d walk up to a house and know it was the one. In my case, I walked up to each house and was relieved it wasn’t my apartment. I didn’t want to settle, but I couldn’t make a decision.

  “I think it’s time for a lunch break,” I declared. “I can’t stand to look at any more houses right now.”

  “It’s almost four,” Liz chuckled. “Maybe we should find something for dinner instead.”

  “Let’s pick up some pie and take it to my place,” I suggested. “I want to go over the houses, and I can apply for the rest of the bank loan from my laptop.”

  “Sounds good,” she agreed.

  As we pulled into the parking garage, a sinking feeling crept into my gut when I saw an unmarked Crown Victoria parked on the street. I kept one eye on the car as Liz and I walked casually toward the front door with pizza in hand, but the two federal agents stepped out just in time to cut us off.

  “Mr. Morgan, so good to see you again,” Monroe sneered.

  “Wish I could say the same,” I scoffed. “What do you want?”

  “To see if you’ve grown a conscience,” he shot back.

  “What my colleague is trying to say is we’re here to see if you’ve remembered anything that could be useful to our investigation,” Hisashi cut in with a glare at his young partner.

  “Nope, I’ve been a little busy,” I replied. “I’ve got your card.”

  “Actually, I have yours,” Hisashi corrected me with a wry smile as he pulled his own card from his pocket. “But now you’ll have one of mine.”

  I glanced at the FBI insignia on the business card before I slipped it into my jeans pocket and took Liz’s hand.

  “That’s it?” Monroe looked bewildered at the exchange. “He knows something. We know he does! And she probably does, too!”

  “I have no knowledge of your case, agent,” Liz said coolly. “I’d also appreciate not being harassed at my job, if you don’t mind.”

  “We aren’t harassing anyone,” Monroe insisted. “We need information, and you both know things you aren’t telling us!”

  “As I mentioned before, I read the newspapers like everyone else,” I said firmly. “I’m sure you can read them if you’d like to know what I know.”

  “Come on, Morgan,” the rookie insisted. “At least write a statement about the assault. That doesn’t hurt your client.”

  “The video footage you have should be sufficient to open an investigation,” I replied.

  “If we open an investigation, you could be subpoenaed,” Hisashi warned.

  “Then I will do what I have to at that point.” I shrugged and met the agent’s stare. “Until then, I trust I don’t have to tell you that you have no right to follow me into my home. Have a good day, gentlemen.”

  Before Monroe could spout off again, Liz and I brushed past them and headed into the lobby of my apartment building.

  “That rookie is pushy,” Liz remarked with a frown as the elevator doors closed behind us.

  “Yeah, he’s the one I don’t trust,” I murmured. “If you give a guy like that an inch, he sprints for the next ten miles.”

  “He seems like the type,” she agreed. “I don’t know where he gets off talking to people like that.”

  “They’re desperate, apparently,” I pointed out. “Why else would they keep trying to question witnesses who don’t want to talk to them?”

  “I can’t believe they just showed up at your building like that.” She shook her head in dismay. “Why are they so convinced you’ll help them?”

  “No idea,” I replied with a shrug as we stepped off the elevator and walked toward my apartment door. “I just know I’m tired of all these people knowing where I live.”

  “Then let’s get your house picked out,” she declared.

  We sat down with my laptop, phone, and legal pad, and Liz wrote down all the pros and cons while I applied for a loan to cover what I didn’t have in cash. By the time we had it all written out, I still wasn’t convinced about which house I wanted to choose.

  One was a farmhouse style that reminded me of some home show I’d watched a few years ago, and it featured a wide driveway with an open floor plan for spacious entertaining, but it didn’t have a dedicated office space, which I’d decided was going to be high on my priority list.

  The second was more industrial with plenty of black metal accents and a few choice wooden features that made the whole house feel like my style. The house had a black-tiled pool in the backyard, which was a rare find, and a decked-out patio for guests, complete with brick oven and grill built in. It had an office on the first floor and two bedrooms upstairs, though they had an adjoining bathroom.

  The more I looked at the pictures of the second house, the less I wanted to look at the other two. The house
was on Aspen Street with easy access to the LIE, which would make my commutes much easier. Even though the jack-and-jill bathroom upstairs was a little weird, I could always make changes to a place I owned. I was already considering the addition of an outside door to the office to make it more official when I realized I’d basically made my decision.

  “That’s the one,” I announced as I pointed to the industrial. “It’s perfect.”

  “It suits you,” Liz agreed with a smile. “I’ll get the realtor’s information.”

  For the rest of the weekend, Liz and I lounged around the apartment and waited for the official approval from the bank. She helped me pick out house décor because, apparently, that’s important to have, and we found some furniture for the office and spare bedroom.

  “Maybe I could get a new couch, too,” I murmured as we scrolled through the various websites.

  “You mean, one that didn’t follow you through college and law school?” Liz laughed. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  “Is it weird to move it to my office, then?” I asked.

  “Not if you put a seat cover on it,” she chuckled. “Cover up the college stains and faded fabric.”

  The whole weekend felt so mundane, it was glorious. We made plans, ate takeout, and enjoyed plenty of time in the bedroom. For a while, I forgot I was the mob lawyer, the guy who took care of Anthony Febbo and his associates when they got picked up by law enforcement.

  Sunday afternoon, the realtor called me and asked when I would be ready to move.

  “I can move this week,” I answered easily.

  I’d already decided to buy out the rest of my lease if the house I wanted was available immediately, but the realtor sounded surprised as he cleared his throat.

  “Oh, ah, well, the sellers would like to talk some numbers--” he continued.

  “I’ll take it for the listed price,” I interjected. “I don’t need to haggle and waste everyone’s time. I’ll have half the cash up front, and the rest I’m financing through my own bank. Will that work for your clients?”

  “Wow, uh, yeah, I think so,” he stammered. “Let me just call you back in a few minutes. Oh, and I’ll have to talk with the bank to verify the info--”