Chapter 18

CHAPTER 18

A leksander

"A leave of absence," Roman Whitfield repeated.

We'd been racquetball partners for years before we'd opened the practice together. His family might walk on the right side of the law, but he saw the benefit of crossing into the gray areas and had more than once. He could deny it all he wanted, but his unscrupulous former acts were one reason when we'd started out, we'd had a decent client list.

"It's a necessity."

"For whom? We have the highest workload of cases in the firm, including some fairly influential potential clients. I can't handle them all."

"I can do some research, legwork while I'm officially away but court dates will need to be pushed back."

"Easier said than done." He tossed his pen across his desk, throwing back his head. "So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?"

"That you've recently gotten engaged to the daughter of the Italian mafia Don. And that she works here as your new assistant. Now, either you're one romantic dude who can sweep a chick off her feet in less than twenty-four hours or this was all a huge plan. Either way, I don't like it. You're putting this firm in jeopardy."

"Roman, I'm not in the habit of playing games."

"I didn't say you were. It's all the buzz. In the news? She's some mafia princess too? I am aware you've done everything in your power to distance yourself from your other commitment to your professional time. I appreciate that as many of our clients are cagey as shit."

"Have you ever noticed all our other clients are guilty as charged?" Fuck.

He laughed. "It doesn't matter. Our job is to make them look squeaky clean and you're even better at it than I am. Oh, and the photograph inside that little ice cream store? Priceless."

Now I was pissed. Someone had been following me. I tried to keep my cool, but it was tough.

Jesus Christ. If the news was already out there it meant her father had been talking. Which could be another reason for the threats. "Well, you don't need to worry about my hindrance in the firm. I plan on finishing the case today and then I'm gone."

"You should be careful, my friend. I know. Arrangements are made all the time. Hell, my father did that but in this day and age, with the big MeToo movement? Women aren't going to take kindly to your Neanderthal actions. It could hurt our reputation."

"Or boost it up. You know how to get ahold of me. I'll always be near my cell. If we need to hire another attorney to strip off some of the heat, we will. And don't tell me we don't have enough money."

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. We'd been friends for far too long. He knew what I was made of as I did with him. "No, we can if the caseload becomes necessary. I don't mind telling you, I'm just a bit worried for you. I never thought you'd be embroiled with another crime syndicate."

What he didn't know because I hadn't spent but so much time talking to him about it was how powerful I was in my own right. He had his own rather unscrupulous clients that would never see the inside of a courtroom. "I assure you, neither did I. However, don't worry about me. Where did you hear the news?"

"You mean other than a tacky reporter printing a colorful article?" He laughed. "You are aware I have a cousin inside the Irish mob. Right?" His grin added to the tease. Of course I knew. We'd decided a long time ago never to allow our affiliations with certain friends to influence us. We also had made a pledge to each other that information on the other would never be forced from us. Whether or not that would always hold true I wasn't certain. Certain men couldn't handle acts of torture and my partner and friend certainly couldn't.

He'd been brought up with a real silver spoon in his mouth.

All I could do was laugh. "So the news is all over the city streets."

"Yeah. All kidding aside. I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I. I need to get to court."

"Expect a circus and not just because white bread boy found an artist for an attorney."

It was impossible not to stare at him. "White bread boy?"

"You know the type. Brought up in money. Trust funds. A sports car waiting for his sixteenth birthday. Daddy-o able to get him out of trouble because of his connections. A partier. You know the type."

"I know the type."

"And you know Congressman Tillman isn't innocent. He killed his wife. She wanted a divorce. He knew it would destroy his career."

"That's for the prosecutor to prove. However, I have a witness."

"He or she?"

"A very credible she."

"Whew," he whistled. "Do you ever wonder what it would have been like if we'd become prosecuting attorneys?"

"All the time. But we are doing some good."

He snorted. "In whose book?"

"Mine. I'll let you know how it goes."

"I don't think you'll need to. Don't forget to invite me to the wedding."

I laughed and blew off his comment although I was beginning to think heading out of town was definitely a good idea. The next few days would tell the tale and I'd do that if necessary. At minimum, perhaps we'd go to my Brighton Beach location. It wasn't on the record in any courthouse, a graduation gift from my grandfather who'd paid cash. Russians had learned a long time ago never to use credit. It would always come back to bite you.

I couldn't help but feel the tension in the air as I walked through the administrative pool. One look at Raphaella's face screamed she'd heard a mouthful. The one thing you didn't do in this town was try to hide anything. The darker and kinkier the secret, the easier it was to discover.

Perhaps it was time to turn into a stone-cold killer.

I took my assistant by the elbow, allowing her to grab her file and purse before leading her toward my office. Once free and clear of the admin pool, she discreetly showed me a screen on her phone.

Notorious Killer to Wed a Mafia Princess.

There it was right out in the open.

"I should have warned you to expect worse," I told her.

"I already know," she whispered. When we were in my office, she led me toward my window. "Look."

I lifted my eyebrows as I walked closer. Well, shit. Reporters were stacked downstairs, blocking off a good portion of Fifth Avenue. That was unprecedented, especially since police had either refused to arrive or hadn't yet.

"No worries, my dear. There are two ways to skin a cat. Do you have everything?"

"What is that saying? Yes, I do."

I laughed. "No need to explain. Let's go. Just remember to keep quiet at this point, and that you're going to hear things that will push you further into thinking I'm a monster. That's what the press does."

"Trust me. That much I know. But here I was already accepting the fact you are a monster."

I grabbed my briefcase and keys, turning around in a full circle to ensure I hadn't missed anything. My laptop was more secure at home, which would allow me to turn into Vadim's Councilor. Right now, with everything going on, good advice would be vital to staying alive as well as thriving in business.

At least she wasn't taking anything too seriously. Meanwhile, I headed to the executive's private elevator. It was soundproof, bulletproof, and had been used for many a private… discussion over the years.

It also went to the basement where I'd parked the car. What few people knew was that there were three entrances to the building, one leading through a tunnel. That wasn't our doing but something built in the fifties with the worry about the Cold War.

But we'd used it to our benefit a few times.

I wasn't used to being ambushed by anyone and wouldn't be able to take my weapon into the courthouse of course. But right now, it felt better having one in my hand. There was always the possibility of sneak attacks from whatever enemy decided to pick on the wrong person.

She said nothing as I walked us to my car. There was no one else in this area of the garage but I wanted to be certain. After getting her safely nestled into the passenger seat, I walked the area, listening for any sounds that I felt were out of place.

Sensing none, I returned to the car, keeping my weapon on my lap.

"Do you plan on trying to smuggle that into the courthouse?" she asked only after I'd revved the engine, reversing then slamming on my brakes. She didn't flinch at my driving, her dark stare remaining locked on me.

"No, but I'll use it in the interim if necessary."

"There are reporters at the courthouse as well."

"To be expected. I'm not worried about getting in. These things are planned for well in advance, a private entrance secured by a dozen people."

"Where they bring the criminals in. Like in the movies."

"Yes, something like that." I headed around the curve of the building, stopping at a steel door guarded by a typical console you'd expect in any garage. When I opened my window, placing my palm on the surface, I couldn't tell if she was impressed or merely laughing at all the gadgets.

But she sucked in her breath when the steel door rolled up, revealing the tunnel inside. There were lights encasing both sides, a generator attached to the electricity should it go off. I wouldn't put it past my enemies to cut off the electricity, trapping me inside.

Not going to happen.

I drove like a bat out of hell through the tunnel, enjoying the twists and turns the positioning allowed me. I rarely used the method of escape, too eager to get to my destination. This took me to an area of the city that wasn't on anyone's tourist map, but on a day like today, it was very useful.

"What is this place?" she asked. I couldn't help but notice the firm grip she had on the dashboard.

"An old tunnel system built in the fifties. People within the city believed the shit they heard about every Russian, thinking we were all communists. If that didn't scare them to death, aliens were becoming all the rage. They were certain they'd be scooped up for medical experiments."

Instead of reacting in the way I thought she would, she laughed. "People are innately followers. Give them a certain color pill and they'll follow along blindly. Cult leaders are amazing at doing that. They can make you believe the world is being invaded by several planets at one time."

"Sounds like you know something about that."

"Hardly. But I'm a damn good observer of people."

"Which is what makes you good at what you do."

She sighed beside me. "You know Mr. Tillman is guilty. Right?"

"Of course I do. I make it my business to know my clients inside and out."

"But you're still going to get him off."

I'd never been challenged for my integrity this way. I couldn't blame her, in truth. A better version of me would never defend a client like this. But I'd ceased being that man a long time ago.

As I came toward the opposite end of the tunnel, I could feel her stiffening. Not all women could tolerate the scrutiny of reporters. They were nothing but nasty vermin as far as I was concerned, but unfortunately, they often produced evidence for the Feds.

I didn't need any of that today. It was vital this case be finished.

I took a deep breath. We'd only been in the tunnel a few minutes, yet the weather had changed dramatically, the dark clouds matching my darker mood. One other thing I could add to my ‘not on my favorite list' was that I hated having wool pulled over my eyes. And I had the distinct feeling someone was behind the sudden swarm of reporters.

After this was said and done, I'd hunt him or her down. Everyone should know by my reputation you didn't back me into a corner. It would seem folks needed a strict reminder, much like my beautiful companion would continually need a reminder to behave.

I almost regretted having her with me today but it was just the beginning of a media frenzy. She might as well get used to it. The moment I pulled onto the side street, I expected to be bombarded, which was ridiculous. But after what Roman had told me, I had to expect almost anything.

"Sit tight," I told her.

"Is there any other way?"

I half laughed and studied the rearview mirror as I yanked out my phone. I needed Vadim to be aware of the situation. He answered on the first ring.

"Vadim. I wanted to warn you my shit is getting out of hand."

"Yeah, I know, my friend. I'm staring at the news. The reporters are acting as if you're the one on trial. I have no idea where they got some of the bullshit they're tossing out."

"Given the bastards were outside of my office and I needed to make a quick getaway, I've yet to hear what they had to say."

"They're bringing up old cases, criminals who went on to perform other heinous acts. What I don't get is how they obtained what seemed like some critical, private information."

I laughed even though none of this was funny. "You know how tenacious they are."

"Yeah, but this is different."

"Something else different is that both the Irish and the smaller Italian mobs are aware of my plans."

He chuckled. "You knew that was going to happen. In fact, I don't mind at all. I assure you the Romanians and the Armenians are already jumping up and down, fearful of the alliance."

"They should be, but I don't like being placed in this position, my friend. It doesn't bode well for business."

"Take care of today and we'll talk tomorrow. This is going exactly as we want it to."

"That's what I intend on doing. I'll talk to you soon." I ended the call hearing him continuing to chuckle just before I did.

"Vadim is interesting," Raphaella said quietly from beside me.

I continued to glance into the three mirrors, pleased so far no one had figured out we'd escaped. "A good friend."

"I didn't know men in the mob had friends. Isn't that dangerous? I don't think there's a single person, including his Capos he's ever had a drink with."

"I assure you someone he knows is considered a trusted confidant. No man can harbor the kind of dark secrets we do alone."

"So that means you've killed before, like my dad."

Just hearing her tone, not accusatory but sad, troubled me. "Don't ask things you don't want to know."

"I've been around this block my entire life, Aleksander. If a single person, usually a man inside the mafia stood in front of me telling me they'd never killed anyone or that they hadn't enjoyed doing so, being able to play God, I'd laugh and call them a bald-faced liar. My father did what he could to hide the ugliness from his three kids, but I was that curious girl, needing to learn more. I overheard conversations, including with my mother, who often accused him of being a murderer. The single thing I can say that's decent about the man is that other than to the press, he's never lied about the monster he is."

"Maybe I'm not so virtuous," I told her. At least she wasn't coming into my world green. How sad was that?

"Bullshit. You have two distinct sides, which is why I believe you've continued playing an attorney. Maybe you don't enjoy ending a man's life, and I assume you've only killed men, but you are completely aware it's a necessity in your line of work."

The woman was by far more intuitive than I'd given her credit for. That made her dangerous for more than one reason. We were nearing the courthouse and I knew things would get dicey. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I would be eager for the day to be over with. Her words ran hard and heavy in the back of my mind, and not just what she'd said.

"I'll be frank with you, Raphaella. I've performed acts most people would consider disgusting, usually because of my loyalty to my Pakhan and the Bratva. However, I've always been a ruthless man. I was a pain in the ass law student because I challenged everything. My professors hated me. Somehow, I always found a loophole or inaccuracies in the mock cases we were asked to perform. I'm not a good man. I never said I was. However, I would never hurt a woman intentionally, at least not in the way you believe I'm capable of."

"Unintentionally?"

Now I had to laugh. "I'm not good boyfriend material."

"I beg to differ. When you allow that guard of yours to fall, you're pretty incredible."

She wasn't looking at me, her jaw clenched.

I rubbed my jaw. "You heard we're in the news."

Her snort was also laced with bitterness. "Oh, yeah. Jasmine in the admin pool? She made certain I knew and she sort of threatened me."

Now I was the one bristling. "What?"

"Don't worry about it. Women like that I can handle. However, she did insinuate you would fall and when you did, it would be hard."

I didn't know who she was talking about but I would find out.

When she leaned forward, pressing her fingers across her mouth, I knew things were about to get dicey. "Shit."

Shit was right.

A huge crowd had formed. Hell, there were people with picket signs in thick red paint insisting Tillman was guilty.

"Whatever happens, keep your head down and don't answer questions."

"Don't worry. I'm not naive."

No, she was many things but not that. As soon as I turned a corner, I realized my car had been recognized. I headed around back to the special entrance and hissed. "Fucking shit. The area is supposed to have guards posted."

She bristled but said nothing, yet her skin had turned pale.

"We need to get into the courthouse as quickly as possible." By the time I threw the gear into park, grabbing my briefcase and both of us scrambling onto the pavement, the mob was right on our heels. This was going to be an arduous day.

I took her by the hand, leading her to the bank of doors. At least a security guard had it open waiting for us. I'd never had this kind of horrific reaction to any cases I'd worked on before.

"He's a murderer. You're one too."

"You're connected to the mafia. How dare you be a man of the law."

"You're marrying a mafia princess? Trying to take over the world?"

"He deserves to die."

"You will face your penance soon enough."

Christ. Reputations could be improved or ruined in a split second with the wrong news.

The horrific barbs and accusations drowned out anything the reporters were trying to accomplish. They were swallowed up by the crowd. I pushed Raphaella inside, taking a second to scan the crowd.

I didn't like what I saw.

Suddenly, a very bad feeling washed through me. Maybe this was D-day after all.