Mob Lawyer 3: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “Let’s wait until the end of Chatel’s speech,” I offered. “Walk slowly to the door and say a few hellos, then bail.”

  “Sounds good.” My client nodded, and we turned our attention back to the DA candidate who was only about halfway through his speech.

  Chatel droned on and on for what felt like an hour before he finally wrapped things up with more empty promises and his champagne flute in the air.

  “So, thank you for your support,” he concluded with a cheesy grin. “And here’s to Brooklyn!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers and laughter as the regular conversations resumed and people spread back out into the large room. The drinks and snacks continued to flow, and we eased our way toward the exit.

  Anthony stopped to talk casually with a few local businesspeople, while I stayed in his shadow with a wary eye on the security guards. I didn’t think they would be stupid enough to try anything in a room full of people and cameras, but you couldn’t predict what desperate people would do, and Webber seemed desperate to get us out of the spotlight.

  And that, of course, meant my client wanted to be in it.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I checked it to find a message back from Alessia.

  You really think I should do an interview with her?

  Yeah, she seems legit. She nailed it to Chatel, you’ll like her, I sent back.

  I’ll take your word for it.

  Alessia obviously wasn’t convinced about Lily’s intentions, but she hadn’t seen the way the young reporter had called out Chatel’s biased response. I’d have to give her a recap later, but it wouldn’t hurt to have some more good publicity.

  “And who is your handsome partner here?” a woman’s voice cut through my concentration, and I looked up as I slipped my cell back into my pocket to see a woman in her late forties with startling green eyes gazing at me with apparent hunger.

  The woman was stunning, even being almost twice my age. Her skin was nearly flawless, and she wore a tight black dress that left nothing to the imagination. She stood on heels that put her as tall as me, and her perfectly coiffed hair was pinned to her head on one side and fell in waves past her other shoulder.

  “Now, Miss Kitty, don’t scare him,” Anthony teased the woman. “He’s my personal attorney, Hunter Morgan. Hunter, Miss Kitty.”

  The cougar appraised me carefully before she daintily lifted a gloved hand for me to take as I dipped my head and smiled.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kitty,” I said.

  “And you, Mr. Morgan,” she purred. “You’re awful young to be an attorney for Tony here, aren’t you?”

  “I like to think that just means I have a long career ahead of me,” I replied with a wink.

  “Ooooh, and he’s feisty!” Miss Kitty cackled before she drew back her hand and clutched her champagne flute with both hands. “I like him. Much better than that old coot you had before.”

  “He wasn’t old,” Anthony laughed. “He just wasn’t a cub, like you prefer.”

  “Oh, Tony, you know me so well,” she replied with a grin that revealed perfect white teeth. “Is this cub in need of my services? Or perhaps a free sneak peek of available packages?”

  “I don’t think so,” he answered after a quick glance at my stricken face. “I’ll let you know if that changes, though.”

  “Okay,” Miss Kitty pouted before she looked past us, and her smile widened. “I believe I have a few politicians to greet. I’ll see you boys later!”

  She strutted past us and headed for a group of gentlemen I recognized from their roles in city government, and I apparently looked just as confused as I felt.

  “I’m guessing you’re new to the escort business,” Anthony snickered.

  “Uh, yeah.” I shook my head as the realization took shape. “Oh, she’s, ah, well…”

  “A highly paid pro,” my client finished. “Yeah, and she must have a few clients here. She likes to pop in and out of these events, so they don’t forget to keep paying her even when they aren’t using their normal appointments.”

  “Why would they do that?” I wondered.

  “So she doesn’t expose them during election season,” he answered and then laughed. “They don’t want to be caught with all the cameras on them right now, but she has to make sure they’ll come back when it’s over.”

  “She’s blackmailing all those guys?” I gestured toward the group of councilmen and other prominent politicians with disbelief.

  “Probably not all of them,” Anthony said with a shrug. “I’d say maybe half.”

  “Wow,” I exhaled. “Alessia has no idea how much corruption she’s going to have to sift through.”

  “Oh, unfaithful husbands are the least of her worries.” Anthony smirked and looked toward the open door. “I’ll go ahead and call the car.”

  He typed out a number on his phone, and within minutes, I could see a set of headlights make their way up the block to the entrance. We continued our relaxed walk to the exit, and I noticed the security guard from earlier was gone. Only a red velvet rope had been hung across the entrance to prevent extra guests from entering, and we stepped over it and headed for the car.

  Our driver hopped out and opened the door for Anthony. He slid inside and looked back to see I still stood on the curb.

  “It’s so nice out,” I observed as I took in a breath of the warm air. “And there’s a good coffee shop by the museum. I think I’ll head there first, do some work, and then catch a cab.”

  “Seriously, Hunter, your avoidance of nice things like a free limo ride is almost insulting,” Anthony said and shook his head. “You really want to take a cab?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” I insisted. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “See ya,” Anthony called out before the driver shut the door behind him.

  I turned toward Washington Avenue and began a slow walk toward the coffee joint. It really was nice out, and the jet-black sky was even sprinkled with the vague lights of the stars above me. It would take some time to walk the few blocks back home, so I loosened my tie and unbuttoned the top of my white collared shirt. I slipped out of my black jacket and threw it over my shoulder before I continued down the block of the Botanic Garden.

  When I reached the first road to cross, movement caught my attention from the parking area next to the garden building. A handful of the same Serbian security guards were piling into two blacked-out SUVs.

  I backed away from the sidewalk and hovered in the bushes next to the building as I watched them load up. They all carried pistols on their hips, which had been hidden by their suit jackets during the party but were very obvious now. Three of the men loaded assault rifles into the seats next to them, and I watched with bated breath as they prepared for whatever they were about to do.

  In less than thirty seconds, half a dozen men had loaded into the vehicles, and the two motors started with nearly silent purrs. I stayed in the shadows of the bushes as the two vehicles slowly rolled toward the stop sign and then signaled to turn right.

  As soon as they pulled onto the main road in front of the garden, each of the drivers seemed to stomp on the gas. The SUVs took off in the same direction as Anthony had just left.

  They may not have been stupid enough to do anything in the party, but it seemed they’d already made another plan to deal with my client.

  The Serbians were about to take out Anthony Febbo.

  Chapter 9

  I whipped my phone from my pocket as I watched the SUV tail lights disappear down the street and dialed Anthony’s number. It felt like it rang for ages before he finally picked up with a laugh.

  “Did you change your mind already?” my client joked. “We can turn around now if you want.”

  “Anthony, you have a convoy of Serbians headed straight for you,” I whispered urgently. “Two black SUVs, at least six guys, and they look pissed. You have to tell the driver to get you somewhere safe, like, right now.”

  “You worry too much,”
he sighed. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Anthony, I’m serious,” I insisted. “There were at least six of them. They all had guns, some big, some small. And some of them were guys that were at the party as security. I’m telling you, they’re following you.”

  “I’m not doubting what you saw,” my client clarified. “I believe they’re following me. I just don’t worry as much as you do. I’m always prepared. Did you even look at this limo?”

  I wracked my brain as I tried to figure out what he was talking about. Lighted interior, bar against the side, nothing that screamed I was crazy for worrying about him.

  “Uh, yeah,” I muttered. “It’s a limo.”

  “Indeed,” he chuckled. “One with bullet-proof windows, armored doors and sides, and an armed driver who spent the last six years working as a special forces operator. You didn’t notice?”

  “No.” I shook my head and rolled my eyes at myself. “I should have. In my defense, the driver looks barely old enough to drink, but apparently, I need to pay more attention.”

  Of course, one of the most notorious Mafia leaders in New York would travel with an extra layer of protection, especially when we were going to an event we suspected was funded by the Serbs. Anthony wasn’t stupid. He knew he was often a target.

  “Yeah, I try to cover my ass when possible,” he laughed. “Not only is my limo ready for whatever they have, but I have some backup, which you don’t have. I can send some guys your way, but you need to get home, Hunter. They saw you with me, and they’ll realize you aren’t with me anymore if they catch up with us.”

  “Shit,” I mumbled. “Yeah, they didn’t see me just now, but someone might have noticed I didn’t get in with you.”

  “Exactly, and that would mean you have even less time before they come find you,” he agreed. “So, get your ass home. I really don’t want to have to find a new attorney. You’re batting a thousand for me so far.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I grimaced at the thought of the Serbs catching up with me instead of Anthony and his backup. “Let me know when you make it home.”

  “You, too,” he ordered before he ended the connection.

  “Why is it always the damn Serbs,” I muttered to myself before I glanced around to make sure no one else was hiding out next to the building.

  I stepped out of the shadows and began a brisk walk back toward DUMBO and kept an eye for available cabs. I checked my Uber app, but the nearest driver was at least twenty minutes away. A busy night for Uber drivers, I realized, but then a lot of them were probably on reserve for the post party crowd.

  Now I had a real problem. I didn’t want to draw too much attention to myself by running, but I didn’t want to spend too much time exposed on the street, either. A few people were also walking the sidewalk, and I contemplated walking close to a group, but I didn’t want to endanger anyone else if the Serbian muscle decided to come after me, too. A drive-by shooting was rare in Brooklyn, but it wasn’t unheard of. And as Nelson had mentioned, no one would be too surprised when one of the victims was a Mafia attorney like me.

  There was a subway near me, and the train would drop me off reasonably close to my apartment. The subway had the added bonus of being crowded, even at this late hour, which I hoped would discourage any Serbians who might follow me to the platform.

  I found my Metro card in my wallet as I jogged down the steps, and I was soon waiting for the Manhattan bound train with a group of young and probably stoned musicians, a trio of Hasidic men who argued in Hebrew, and the other random Brooklyn singles who watched the tunnel for the approach of the train.

  I made it on with spotting any oversized security guards and hopped off a few stations later near Boro Hall. I was still in a pack of people, but as soon as we hit the top of the stairs, my fellow riders quickly dispersed in every direction. But I only had a few blocks now, and I still hadn’t seen any sign of the Serbians.

  So, I pressed on at my quick pace alone. I remembered a shortcut between two apartment buildings across the street from my own, and I increased my speed as I got closer to the alley. I glanced down the darkened path, but I couldn’t hear or see any movement. It would take at least ten minutes off my walk, and I needed to get back to my apartment as quickly as possible.

  I veered down the alley, but I kept my eyes peeled as I passed every trash dumpster and deserted homemade shelter. My heart pounded inside my chest while I waited for someone to jump out from one of the hiding spots and take me out. Yet, nothing happened. I started to feel my breathing slow down to normal when I caught a glimpse of my building just across the street. I could just make out Sulla standing at the front doors as the doorman for the night. I was nearly to the end of the alley, and then I’d be home free.

  Then a blue and white Dodge Charger whipped across the path and blocked me into the alley. Bright blue letters that read “NYPD” were emblazoned across the doors, but the vehicle was dark. No red and blue lights or siren announced the officer’s arrival, and my heart resumed its heavy thumping inside my chest. I highly doubted this was going to be the average traffic stop.

  The driver’s door opened, and a tall familiar man stepped out into the darkness of the alley. Nelson was no longer in uniform, but I recognized his pockmarked face even in the dark shadows. He wore jeans and a thin black t-shirt that did nothing to hide the gun holstered to his right hip. Something told me that wasn’t his service weapon.

  “Nice evening,” the officer announced in his thunderous voice. “Perfect for a walk.”

  “Indeed,” I agreed slowly. “Yet, here you are in your car, blocking my walk home. Is there something I can help you with, Officer Nelson? Unless, of course, you’re using city property while off duty, which I’m sure the department would like to know about.”

  “Sergeant,” he corrected with a step toward me. “It’s none of your business when I’m on or off the clock. And I don’t need any help from someone like you.”

  “You’re right,” I confirmed. “I’d say you need a therapist, or a priest, perhaps.”

  “Don’t be a smartass,” he warned as he took another slow step in my direction. “You’ve already caused enough trouble for my boss.”

  “And that would be Chief Flores?” I asked innocently.

  “My off-the-clock boss,” the cop barked as his brow furrowed in annoyance.

  “Ahh, moonlighting.” I nodded and slowly backed away from the advancing sergeant. “I hear that’s popular with law enforcement since you don’t make shit when you keep your nose clean, right?”

  “You’re one to talk,” he snickered. “You think you bought that nice new car with clean money? Febbo can’t pay you with legit cash because he doesn’t have any. He’s a crook like his father, and you saw what happened to good ol’ Sal. You’re not any better than I am, so you don’t have to pretend with me, Morgan.”

  “I don’t threaten to kill people,” I hissed. “I’d say that puts me a few rungs above you on the moral ladder.”

  The gap was closing between us, but I didn’t want to retreat any further into the complete darkness of the alley. I had to choose between proximity to the corrupt cop and the shadows of the narrow path behind me. If the Serbs wanted to kill me, surely, they’d have sent one of their musclebound criminals, not a cop on their payroll, right?

  Fuck if I knew at this point.

  “I told you I don’t make threats,” Nelson laughed. “I warned you about the consequences of starting bullshit with reporters, though it seems you didn’t listen. How’s Brenda?”

  I stiffened for a moment at the mention of my reporter friend. He hadn’t said her name before, and now I worried she was in danger as well.

  “You mean the chick I slept with a few times last year?” I said nonchalantly. “I’m sure she’s fine.”

  “No more fun times since she got herself a new boyfriend, huh?” the sergeant continued, and a malicious grin stretched across his scarred face. “I bet you miss that sweet ass. I was thinking about trying it mys
elf. I doubt her mute boyfriend would be able to keep me away.”

  “Leave her out of this.” I felt my blood start to boil at Nelson’s insinuation. “I’ll have your ass thrown into jail if you touch her. I’ll take it to the feds if I have to, since I know your dirty department won’t do anything.”

  “You won’t be able to do a damn thing when you’re in the ground,” the cop nearly whispered. “Just remember, you brought this on yourself.”

  “By going to a party?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “We just had a few drinks and chatted with some local politicians. Your boss is pretty sensitive if he’s worried about a little fiesta.”

  “You act like you and Febbo are untouchable,” Nelson growled. “He may have his security with him, but you’re all alone now. No gun, no guards, nada. I mean, what’s another attorney to Tony Febbo? Do you think he’ll even go to your funeral?”

  He’d mentioned my death twice in the last thirty seconds, and I could feel my fight-or-flight instincts start to kick in. He had no intention of letting me out of this alley alive, and I had to think fast if I was going to survive.

  “I guess I’ll ask him when I get home,” I said as I clenched my jaw with determination. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  I casually switched my jacket to my left shoulder to leave my right hand free and started forward as though he’d let me walk right past him, but I knew better. Nelson dropped his hand to his hip and closed his grip around his pistol. I felt my blood turn to ice before I took a deep breath and started to reach for my own gun.

  Then I remembered I’d left the damn thing at home. He probably knew I couldn’t take it with me to the party and I’d be unarmed on my way home. I cursed inwardly, but it probably would have been hard to get away with shooting a cop, especially in Brooklyn. I’d have to handle my business the old-fashioned way.

  I continued toward him with one eye on his right hand, and as he took hold of the grip, I reached for his arm. When he pulled his pistol from the holster, I dropped my jacket, closed the gap, and wrapped my fingers around his wrist and twisted it away from my body. The barrel was pointed at his gut, and I worried for a moment that he’d shoot himself and I’d still get blamed, but he held his trigger finger and swung at me with his left fist.