Mob Lawyer 3: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  “Okay, now imagine that target nine times further,” Anthony said. “Could you still hit it?”

  “Shit, probably not,” I murmured. “You know, I thought the guy was trying to make himself look crazy.”

  “What do you mean?” Anthony demanded.

  “Like, he purposely hadn’t showered in a couple days, put on clothes that didn’t fit, grinned like he had no clue what was going on,” I answered. “Things that would make him look like a whack job, but he was alert and focused enough to blend in before the shooting.”

  “Bet he tries one of those crazy defenses,” my client said. “Will it work?”

  “Not if the DA’s office can disprove a faulty mental diagnosis,” I replied. “Which means if Chatel gets the job, he doesn’t even have to try to disprove it. He can accept whatever evidence the defense provides and offer a plea deal.”

  “Unbelievable,” Anthony groaned. “But if he isn’t crazy, then why did he do it?”

  “I doubt it has anything to do with her policy stance,” I muttered as I stood up and paced around the small room. “I’d put money on one of the Serbian guys trying to get rid of Chatel’s last bit of competition.”

  “I wouldn’t bet against you,” he agreed. “She’s been gaining popularity the past few weeks, and they’re obviously worried she’ll pull it off.”

  “But the Mayor is smart enough to know this failed attempt will tear Chatel’s campaign apart,” I pointed out. “He’s been in politics a long time, and everyone saw how Brooklyn rallied around Alessia after the first attack. I’m not sure he was in on this one.”

  “True,” Anthony murmured. “The Mayor is very politically savvy, which is probably why he was brought into their fold. He’s been in the game for years.”

  “And if he knows what he’s doing, he wouldn’t have ordered a hit on Alessia,” I determined. “So, we have someone else at play here.”

  “Who the hell else would want to get involved now?” my client groaned, and I heard the distinctive sound of a lighter flicking on before he took a deep breath of what was most likely a cigar. “I miss the old days of people just breaking out store windows of the person they wanted to scare and leaving their family crest on the wall. That was much easier.”

  “Guess someone has big plans,” I mused and glanced up when someone started to walk in the door.

  The man saw my bloody clothes and angry glare, and he dipped back out of the room without a word.

  “We need to find out who this new player is,” Anthony decided. “Back to Alessia, she’s alright, though?”

  “The bullet went through her shoulder,” I explained. “The EMTs thought it looked pretty clear, but they wanted X-rays and stuff to be sure.”

  “That’s a good idea,” he agreed. “When do you think she can go home?”

  I started to answer when my phone buzzed with another call. I glanced at the screen and recognized the prefix was an NYPD number.

  “Hey, I have the cops calling me,” I told him. “Let me call you right back.”

  “Got it.” Anthony disconnected as I answered the other call.

  “Hunter Morgan,” I said in my professional attorney voice.

  I wasn’t sure which officer would call me directly, but I hoped they would give me some answers about who had done this to Alessia.

  “Morgan, it’s Gomez,” the detective said in his gravelly voice. “You got a minute?”

  “Yeah, Detective, what’s up?” I was intrigued by his call.

  “As you know, we captured the shooter within seconds of the attack,” he began carefully. “And he has since confessed to the entire plot to shoot Ms. Pizzano. Your friend will still need to make a formal statement, but it can wait until the morning since this seems to be an open-and-shut case.”

  “He just confessed?” I asked with bewilderment. “Just like that?”

  “Yep,” he muttered. “Just walked into the room, read him his rights-- I know you attorneys are big on that-- and he just spilled his guts. Said he’s been stalking the ADA for weeks and finally got a chance to talk to her a few days ago, but she didn’t respond. So, that’s pretty much it.”

  “Unrequited love?” I said doubtfully. “Are you buying that?”

  “Well, he’s certainly trying hard to sell it,” Gomez replied, but he didn’t directly answer my question. “Anyway, that’s all I’ve got for you since you aren’t his lawyer. Just figured you could let the victim know he’s going away for a while now.”

  “Can I get his name?” I pressed. “Just to confirm with her.”

  “Come on, counselor,” the detective chuckled. “You can read it in the news like everyone else. DA Jordan has everyone on a short leash with this case. No leaks, you got it?”

  “I’m an attorney, not a reporter,” I reminded him. “Just a name, Gomez.”

  Someone tapped lightly on the door, and I jerked my head up to see Bear peeking in and waving his phone urgently.

  “Not gonna happen,” Gomez laughed. “Later, counselor.”

  He hung up, and I groaned as I motioned for Bear to come into my makeshift office. He squeezed in the narrow doorway with a grin.

  “You’ll never believe this,” he said as he showed me his phone.

  I stared at the lines zigzagging across the screen and an array of percentages that made absolutely no sense to me.

  “I have no clue what I’m looking at.” I turned my attention back to the campaign manager’s face. “I can read legalese, not whatever those are.”

  “Polls,” he clarified excitedly. “And Alessia’s ratings are shooting up-- pardon the expression. Her speech from the ambulance is going viral. Check out the Twitter hashtags.”

  “Wow,” I murmured as I pulled out my own phone to check my feed.

  Sure enough, the “Alessia Ali” hashtag was moving again, but a new one had been added.

  “Can the Brooklyn crooks,” Bear said with a note of pride. “Everyone is talking about dirty politics and how Alessia is the one to clean it up.”

  “This is awesome,” I replied as I scrolled through the tweets for a few more seconds before I looked up at him. “Have the doctors come out with anything on her wound?”

  “Not yet,” he answered with a frown. “It’s been a while, now that you mention it. I was so caught up looking at this stuff, I didn’t even realize we’ve been here for almost an hour. How long do stitches normally take?”

  “A big guy like you has never gotten stitches?” I smirked.

  “Nah, I just made sure other people needed them,” he chuckled as a dark look fell over his face.

  I had the sudden realization that Bear could probably break someone in half if necessary, and I shuddered at the idea of pissing him off.

  “Well, uh, we should probably go check on her, then,” I decided and slipped past him to push the door open and head for the waiting area.

  I saw the nurses’ station first, and I veered over to lean against the counter with my best dazzling smile.

  “Can I help you?” one of the women asked.

  “Yes, I need to check on Ms. Pizzano,” I told her. “She was getting stitches and an X-ray, but it’s been a while. Could you just let me know if everything turned out as they expected?”

  “Oh, the lady running for District Attorney?” the nurse wondered with a giggle. “Her stitches have been done for a while. She’s just been talking everyone’s ears off. We love her.”

  “Ahhh.” I breathed a sigh of relief. “So, she’s alright?”

  “Goodness, yes!” the nurse laughed. “I’m so sorry no one told you. Her X-ray is fine, no bone fragments to worry about. They stitched her up, and she’s become a bit of a celebrity in trauma care.”

  “Of course, she has,” I chuckled, and Bear chortled next to me. “Just let her know we’ll be here when she’s done with her comedy tour.”

  “I will,” she answered with a wide grin followed by a wink. “I’m sure she can’t wait to get back to you.”

 
; A blush colored my cheeks as I nodded and headed back for my chapel office. I still had to call Anthony back and let him know what Gomez told me. I told Bear I’d be right back, and I called my client as I entered the quiet sanctuary.

  “What did the cops say?” he asked by way of greeting.

  “It was Gomez,” I answered. “He said the shooter confessed to his plan to kill her and claimed it was because he’d been stalking her, tried to talk to her, and got turned down.”

  “And they believe him?” Anthony sounded annoyed with the explanation.

  “Gomez doesn’t seem convinced,” I said. “But I think he also knows he won’t be the one they listen to on this. He’s a good detective. He knows this guy is a front for someone.”

  “Well, did you ask Alessia if she knows the guy?” he pressed.

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk much, but I didn’t recognize him from the first attack,” I replied. “And Gomez wouldn’t give me a name.”

  “Why the hell not?” Anthony demanded, and I felt the heat of the Mafia boss’ frustration.

  “He said I wasn’t on the case, and I could read it in the papers like everyone else,” I muttered. “I should have said I’d be representing Alessia, but without her there to agree with me, that’s a risky play.”

  “Bloody hell,” my client cursed. “I’ll have to get it myself.”

  “Why don’t we just wait until tomorrow?” I suggested. “Gomez said the Mayor didn’t want any leaks, but that never happens. I’m sure someone in the press has gotten it from the cops by now.”

  The last thing I wanted was for my client to get involved in this case by illegally obtaining information about it. While I obviously wanted to know more about the shooter, I had to put my client’s needs first.

  “Stop worrying so much,” Anthony ordered. “It’s not like I’ll have to torture someone for the name. He’s a criminal in custody, not a spy.”

  “I guess,” I muttered.

  “Besides, I told you to talk Ms. Pizzano into running,” he continued. “And I want her to win, not get killed.”

  “At least he’s already caught,” I pointed out.

  “But we don’t know who sent him,” my client scoffed. “We still have an anonymous player in the game, and I don’t like that. I need to know everything about this guy, so we can figure out who sent him after her.”

  “That makes sense,” I murmured.

  “Besides, no one shoots our future DA and gets away with it,” Anthony said in a low voice that reminded me of his father.

  And I knew he would stop at nothing to make sure someone paid for their attack on Alessia.

  Chapter 13

  Alessia was finally released from the hospital around midnight, and she strolled into the waiting room with a sling and a grin as she waved goodbye to her fan club in the trauma center.

  “You waited,” she said happily.

  “Of course.” I pressed a hand to my chest with mock offense. “You thought I was anything other than a gentleman?”

  “Well…” she giggled before she looked at Mateo and Bear. “You waited, too?”

  “We couldn’t just go home after the night we’ve had.” Bear smirked.

  “Nah, actually, I need a drink,” Mateo sighed. “I’ll be at the bar until they kick me out. My Uber is already on the way.”

  “I believe I’ll join you, if that’s alright,” Bear chuckled.

  “Definitely,” his teammate agreed.

  “I’ll call you in the morning to set up a press conference,” Bear told Alessia, and she nodded before the pair turned to leave.

  They walked toward the front door of the hospital, and I offered my elbow to Alessia. As she leaned against me, I could tell the weight of the day had exhausted her, even if she would never admit it. We walked out to my car, slid inside, and headed for her apartment.

  “Could we go to your place?” Alessia nearly whispered. “I just… don’t really want to go home yet.”

  “Yeah, of course,” I agreed.

  I was silently pleased she didn’t want to spend the night in her apartment since I couldn’t assume that I’d stay with her, but I also didn’t want her to be alone. If the shooter really had been stalking her, he might already know where she lived. He might know my building, too, but I had Hank outside and my Smith & Wesson inside to keep us safe.

  “And I’m, like, starving,” she groaned. “They only had jello to eat.”

  “Any random cravings again?” I asked.

  “I could really go for some breakfast food,” Alessia said after a moment of thought. “Pancakes, bacon, biscuits, all of it.”

  “You got it,” I laughed.

  I pulled into traffic and watched Hank’s car slide out behind me as I browsed for a fast-food restaurant that was still open and serving breakfast in the middle of the night. I only saw one option, and I cringed when I pointed it out to Alessia.

  “Yesssss,” she moaned. “I haven’t been there in forever!”

  I drove underneath the golden arches and ordered her their biggest breakfast combo and a couple chicken sandwiches for me. She bounced in her seat as the smell of the greasy meal filled my car on the drive home.

  We barely made it into the apartment when she opened the bag and spread her food out on the counter. Within seconds, the place smelled like sausage and maple syrup as Alessia dug into her breakfast food. I was pleasantly surprised with my chicken sandwiches, though I’d barely finished one by the time Alessia had demolished her whole meal.

  “Did you get enough?” I chuckled.

  “I think so,” she replied with a contented smile. “Now, it’s time for some sleep.”

  “I’m good with that,” I agreed.

  I scarfed the other sandwich while she got ready for bed, and when I crawled under the blankets with her, she was already snoring. I followed suit, and it felt like only a few minutes had passed before Alessia’s phone was blaring on the nightstand.

  “It’s Bear,” she mumbled as she picked up. “Morning… Yeah, I can… If you think so… Okay, see you soon.”

  “What’s going on?” I asked when she started to get out of bed with a wince.

  “I need to do a press conference this morning about the shooting,” she answered.

  My questions were interrupted by a knock on the door, and I jerked my head toward the living room in surprise. I hardly ever had anyone come to my place unannounced, and my first instinct was to grab my gun from my nightstand before Alessia grabbed my hand and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I demanded. “I don’t know who’s out there.”

  “It’s Bear,” she snorted. “I just said I was doing a press conference. He brought some clothes from my condo. I can’t wear a bloody torn-up top on live TV, and I don’t think your shirt I slept in would be a good option, either.”

  “Oh,” I grunted. “I’ll go let him in while you get into the shower.”

  “Jeez, do I smell that bad?” Alessia grinned and stuck out her tongue before she sashayed toward the bathroom.

  Bear knocked on the door again, and I pulled a t-shirt on with my sweats as I made my way into the living room and let him in.

  “Sorry to wake you guys up,” he said as he squeezed in with a handful of clothes over one giant arm. “We just need to get this going ASAP.”

  “No worries,” I replied and motioned for him to set the clothes on the couch. “I figured you and Mateo would still be asleep after you went to the bar last night.”

  “Oh, I can hold my own,” Bear chuckled. “Mateo is working his way out of his stupor as we speak. He has to live stream Alessia’s conference.”

  “Ah, I see,” I said with a grin. “Where are we doing this?”

  “The team is setting up a backdrop at headquarters,” he explained. “We’ll go there once she’s dressed.”

  “Well, what did you bring me?” Alessia chimed in as she walked out.

  She was wrapped in my thin gray bathrobe with a towel around her hair, and
I nearly choked on the sight of her slender, bronze legs exposed to the mid-thigh. She held her injured arm against her body, but she looked gorgeous nonetheless as she browsed the options Bear had brought. She picked up a bright-red pantsuit and glided back to the bedroom to get dressed.

  “That was easy enough,” I murmured and tried to get my thoughts back on track. “I suppose I should get dressed, too.”

  “Sweatpants aren’t the best look for an office,” Bear agreed in an amused tone.

  I snickered as I headed for my room just in time to see Alessia struggling with the buttons on her blouse.

  “This stupid arm hurts to move that way,” she muttered.

  “Just ask for help,” I admonished her gently and buttoned the top for her.

  Then I grabbed her sling from the floor and helped her put her injured arm into it. She sighed with relief as the weight was removed from her shoulder, and I furrowed my brow when I realized I didn’t remember her taking any pain medication back from the hospital.

  “What?” she asked when she saw my expression.

  “Why didn’t they give you any pain pills last night?” I wondered. “That’s got to be standard for a gunshot wound.”

  “It is,” Alessia assured me and turned to find her shoes. “But I told them I’ll just take some Tylenol or something. No big deal.”

  “Uh, what?” I was flabbergasted. “You got shot. With a gun. Why would you take Tylenol for that?”

  “I don’t take narcotics,” she replied with a shrug. “Never have, never will. The nurse said to alternate with Advil, and I’d be fine.”

  “You might be the most stubborn person I know,” I murmured. “I’m getting dressed, then we can leave.”

  She nodded and breezed out into the living room to wait with Bear. I could hear their idle chatter while I pulled on some slacks and a plain gray button-up. I slipped into the bathroom and finger-combed my curls before I joined the two in the living room.

  “Ready, princess?” Bear chortled.

  “Ha, ha,” I smirked. “Let’s go.”

  As soon as we arrived at the after-school center, the annex was nearly vibrating with preparations. Volunteers ran back and forth to set up the backdrop, and two or three of them immediately grabbed Alessia’s hand and pulled her to a separate room to do her hair and makeup. Mateo scurried through the room checking things off a clipboard. His hair was a wild mess, and I had to laugh when he paused to chug a bottle of water.