Top Dog_A Mafia Romance

by Rye Hart

  “The first thing he did was increase the number of guns he purchased on a regular basis. Almost doubled the order. That’s where he pulls the bulk of his money from. Shipments range from two cities over to deserted places in Saudi Arabia and Russia.”

  “I take it those are recurring shipments?” I asked.

  “They are. I can get you the details if you want them.”

  “All I want right now is the picture,” I said.

  “He focused on that for a few months, then hopped to drugs. That was a new game your father hadn’t played in, and I advised him against it. But he didn’t listen because that’s what Stefano does.”

  “You don’t like him, do you?” I asked.

  James whipped his gaze over to me and sighed.

  “I am loyal to your family,” he said.

  “I’m not asking for loyalty. I’m asking for your opinion.”

  “I am loyal to your family,” he said again.

  I sighed and shook my head as I bit down on the inside of my cheek.

  “Keep going,” I said.

  “Every two months, he set up a recurring shipment of heroin to come in on the docks. But he doesn't oversee this process. He has third-party people he pays to run and distribute the drugs.”

  “And after that?”

  “Are you sure you—”

  “And after that?” I asked harshly.

  James sighed as he closed his eyes.

  “After the drugs, Stefano hopped to human trafficking.”

  My stomach sank to my toes.

  “Excuse me?” I asked.

  “Those are the big three he’s got his hands in currently. Running guns, dealing out heroin, and trafficking humans.”

  “Buying and selling people on the black market.”

  “Yes.”

  “For what purpose?” I asked.

  “Sexual, mostly. Though I know a few have been sold into slavery.”

  “And how do you know this for certain?” I asked.

  “Stefano likes to brag. A lot.”

  I thought I was going to vomit on my shoes.

  I knew that my father had been involved in shady practices and sometimes violence was a part of them. But getting kids hooked on drugs and selling people? No. Never. He was probably spinning in his grave. Stefano was the one spitting on my father’s business, not me.

  Your uncle killed your father, Julia.

  I shook Romeo’s voice from my head as I drew in a deep breath.

  “Is that it?” I asked.

  “No,” James said.

  “No?”

  “Stefano was in here a few weeks ago talking about his latest project.”

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “He didn’t give a lot of specifics but said I’d know what to do once I heard about it. The only thing he said was that it would take the Bianchi family name to an entirely different level, one his brother would’ve never been able to reach. He sounded very proud, and it has me very concerned.”

  I knew exactly what Stefano had been talking about.

  “Thank you for your time, James.”

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asked.

  “There will be plenty in the future, but not right now. Right now? All you need to do is keep an ear out for Mr. Dashel.”

  “Your lawyer?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Can I ask why?”

  My eyes connected with his as a smile crossed my face.

  “You’ll know it when you hear about it,” I said with a wink.

  James shook his head as he closed down his computer. I saw my way out and headed for my car, then sped off toward Mr. Dashel’s office. This wasn’t happening any longer. Stefano wasn’t going to get away with slaughtering my father’s name this way. If Romeo and I could make one family business legitimate, then we could make both of them legitimate.

  Which meant unseating Stefano permanently.

  I pulled into the parking space in front of the private office. I drew in a deep breath and calmed the rolling of my stomach before I proceeded inside. I’d always enjoyed James. He was kind. Had a good head on his shoulders. But Mr. Dashel was ruthless, and I knew he would be a much bigger obstacle to overcome.

  Especially when he knew why I was coming to see him.

  “Come in, Miss Bianchi. Take a seat.”

  “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment, Mr. Dashel.”

  “The Bianchi family never needs an appointment,” he said with a grin. “What can I help you with?”

  “Why did you help put Stefano at the head of the family?” I asked.

  Mr. Dashel cocked his head as his fingers interlocked and rested on his desk.

  “I’m not following.”

  “It’s a simple question. Why was my uncle instated as the next head of the family?” I asked.

  “Because that’s the rightful succession.”

  “No. It’s not. I’m the heir to my father’s position, and I would like to know why my uncle received it instead of me.”

  “Well, Miss Julia—”

  “Bianchi,” I said.

  Mr. Dashel’s eyes hardened on me, and I watched him lean back into his chair.

  “Keep your hands where I can see them, Mr. Dashel.”

  He clenched his jaw and placed his locked hands back onto his desk.

  “Miss Bianchi, surely you didn’t expect your father to hand you that seat,” he said.

  “I have it on good authority that he was grooming me for that seat,” I said.

  “A woman has never sat in that position before.”

  “A black man had never been President before, either. And we had him for eight years.”

  “Miss Bianchi—”

  “Well there’s a first time for everything Mr. Dashel. Now answer the question. Why was Stefano given my seat?”

  “Because you were grieving and had a small child. It was no place for you to be in.”

  “Would my father have agreed with you?” I asked.

  “Well he’s not here to answer for himself, and I don’t speak on behalf of the dead.”

  “Then let me do it for you. For some reason, my father’s will is still sealed. And I have a feeling that when I demand you open it, you’re going to find something that contradicts the current status quo. Now, I’m not sure why you haven’t unsealed my father’s will, but I’m going to assume you’re not that incompetent of a lawyer and make the assumption that my uncle paid you off.”

  Mr. Dashel gritted his teeth, and I watched his temple pulse.

  “I’m here to ask you one simple question,” I said. “I want to know how to have Stefano removed as President of my family’s legitimate businesses.”

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  “A change needs to be made, Mr. Dashel. I will be asserting a more hands-on role in the family business that was left to me. I have properly grieved, my son is growing older,a nd I’m ready to instate a different direction for my family’s business to go in. One I can be proud of and pass down to my son.”

  “As your legal counsel, I would advise you against such a move,” he said.

  “Why? Because then you won’t get paid?” I asked.

  “No. Because you lack the constitution to do it.”

  My eyes hardened onto the man in front of me as he leaned forward again.

  “It takes a certain kind of man to run a syndicate like your family, Miss Bianchi. And you don’t have that within you.”

  “I want to remind you that you work for me, Mr. Dashel. My uncle pays you, but the seat he sits in is mine. And I know enough about the inner workings of this family to know that when my mother passed, all of this fell onto my shoulders. My uncle might currently be the head, but I’m the neck. And I turn the head any which way I choose. So the question now standing is this one: do you want the head turned your way, or not?”

  The threats I was making churned my stomach. I sounded like my father. Like a man making a threat agai
nst another man’s life. This wasn’t how I saw my day turning out. And not how I wanted to run my father’s business. But if Mr. Dashel was going to play hardball, then I needed to play along with him. If I wanted to be taken seriously as a shark, then I had to act like one in these troubled waters.

  “I can have you removed,” I said. “Permanently.”

  I watched our family lawyer draw in a deep breath before he opened a drawer next to him. I braced myself to hit the floor, thinking he was going to pull a gun on me. But instead, he pulled out a series of folders and dropped them onto his desk. One by one. As if he was trying to get me to flinch or run out of the room crying like the little girl he thought I was.

  “These six folders contain all of the legal proceedings that would have to take place in order to unseat Stefano,” he said. “It’s lengthy. The shorter route is to demand you have your father’s will opened. But if that will hands his business to your uncle, you’ll no longer have a leg to stand on. Even with these legal proceedings. It’s a game of Russian Roulette, Miss Bianchi. So it depends on which way you want to spin the wheel.”

  “Tell me. Do you like working for my uncle?” I asked.

  “I’m loyal to your family, Miss Bianchi.”

  “Not the question I asked. But I enjoy how you and everyone else seem to have that phrase on repeat.”

  “Stefano enjoys loyalty.”

  “And I enjoy truth. So tell me, do you enjoy working for my uncle?”

  Mr. Dashel’s face grew dim, telling me everything I needed to know.

  “This business is mine, and I won’t allow Stefano to ram it into the ground simply because he didn’t believe in the direction my father was taking things.”

  “And what direction was that, Miss Bianchi?”

  I stood from my seat and dusted myself off before I smiled.

  “That’ll be all,” I said as I stepped toward the door. “Get back to me as soon as you have the papers drawn up to get the process started.”

  “Miss Bianchi?”

  “Yes?”

  I turned my head around and watched as Mr. Dashel stood from his desk.

  “I was wrong about you.”

  “Yes, you were,” I said, then turned on my heel and let myself out.

  “It seems as if you might have the fortitude to run this business after all.”

  “Your statement is appreciated. Let me know when you have the information I seek.”

  Then I opened the door and showed myself the way out.

  CHAPTER 25

  ROMEO

  “That was a quick turnaround,” I said. “Thank you for meeting me.”

  “No problem. Also, I have a bit of interesting information for you,” Langley said.

  “Really? Do tell,” I prodded. “Apparently, Officer Johnson is on half-time until he recuperates from a car accident.”

  “A car accident.”

  “Yep. Facial contusions and fractured cheekbones.”

  “Uh-huh,” I said flatly.

  “Question. Your home invasion. Did you—”

  “Beat anyone’s face in? Yes, I did,” I said.

  “Ah. Well. Then you’ll enjoy where this is going. The footage I reviewed is conclusive. There’s clear footage of him slipping something into an evidence box, and a few questions to the right people uncovered that the ring wasn’t processed at the scene of the crime. Coupled with the negative tests that keep coming back from the ring itself, and it’s looking pretty grim for the detective’s case.”

  “I owe you a great debt,” I said.

  “No. I owed you one, and now we’re even. I know what people think about your family around here, but I know you. I know you’ll steer your family onto the right track.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “But, you should come in with me and meet with the investigators on the case. It’ll be better to get ahead of everything before they start issuing warrants to try and clean up this insane mess Johnson has created,” he said.

  “I’ll do you one better. I’ll come without lawyers.”

  “That’ll be a good show of faith, but you know they’ll come at you hard without one.”

  “That ring was a plant. They have nothing,” I said. “Lead the way.”

  I slipped into my car and followed Langley back to the police precinct. I knew I was taking a massive chance that had the potential to backfire. I was either walking out of the place a free man or being hauled off to a holding cell. But since there was footage of Johnson planting that ring into the evidence locker, I had a solid foundation to stand on.

  And I wanted to look that asshole in the eye.

  I got out of my car and waited until Langley was in the building. I knew there was a possibility he would be found guilty by mere association, despite our history together. I waited a few minutes then got out of the car, and police immediately got on their phones. No doubt messaging Johnson and telling him who was voluntarily walking into the precinct.

  I knew my presence would get his attention.

  I walked inside and was escorted by four armed officers into an interrogation room. I looked back and saw Langley, who thumbed behind him. I was nervous. I mean, after all, I was actually guilty of the crime. I sat down in the cold metal chair and planted my arms on the table.

  What seemed like hours later, the door flew open and three investigators came in. The detective from the crime scene, someone I didn’t recognize, and Johnson.

  And his face was battered.

  “Do you know what this is?” the detective asked.

  He slid the evidence bag with the ring across the table until it bounced against my forearm.

  “I do,” I said.

  “That’s your ring, isn’t it?”

  “No.”

  “That’s your family’s insignia, right?” Johnson asked.

  My eyes panned over to him, and I grinned at the bruises still marking his face.

  “How did it feel?” I asked.

  “How did what feel?” Johnson asked.

  Then my eyes fell to the two-way mirror behind them.

  “I’m being set up,” I said.

  “Care to explain how that is?” the detective asked.

  “That isn’t my ring. It’s my family’s crest, but it’s my father’s ring. It was stolen from my house about a week ago,” I said.

  “And you’re just now figuring out your father’s ring was missing?” the detective asked.

  “Tradition in our family says people are buried with their rings. I didn’t think to look for it because I assumed it was in my father’s grave,” I said.

  I whipped my gaze over to Johnson and leaned back into the seat.

  “You know, you put up a good fight that night,” I said.

  “What night?” Johnson asked.

  “You know. The break-in. I know you were one of the men who broke into it. Specifically, the one that tried to kill me,” I said.

  “His injuries are from a car accident, Mr. Martine,” the detective said.

  But my eyes panned from Johnson’s and fell onto the silent investigator in the corner.

  “You seem competent,” I said. “Are his bruises and injuries consistent with that of a car accident?”

  The silent investigator looked over at Johnson before he grunted.

  “Actually, if you look really closely, you can see the knuckle imprints on his cheek. I wonder what would happen if I balled up my fist and held it up to the bruise,” I said.

  “You aren’t laying a fucking finger on me, you disgusting piece of shit,” Johnson said. “You were at the docks that night, and you slaughtered those men in cold blood. Just like your father would have.”

  “How does Stefano’s payroll feel?” I asked.

  “You’re dodging our questions,” the detective said.

  “Does Stefano pay you too?” I asked the detective, just going on a hunch.

  “I believe he does.”

  The door swung open, and Langley as well as Bradshaw
walked in along with a woman with a badge that said “Internal Affairs.” I watched Johnson’s face grow pale as the detective’s face reddened, and the nameless investigator in the corner stood up and walked over to my side.

  “Ball up your fist, please,” he said.

  “Gladly,” I said as my eyes locked with Johnson’s.

  “I’m interested in seeing it as well, Officer Johnson. Walk on over there,” Langley said.

  I grinned as the man stood in his place.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway,” the woman from Internal Affairs said. “Hello, Mr. Martine. I’m Officer Lawrence.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said.

  “Officer Johnson, we have you on the evidence locker security footage planting this ring in Mr. Bianchi’s case box.”

  He and the detective exchanged a look, and I knew we had them in a place of vulnerability.

  “And you, Detective. We have pictures and surveillance footage of you having a sit-down meeting and shaking hands with Stefano Bianchi. Two days later, a sum of seventy thousand dollars showed up in your personal checking account that we traced through a couple of shell companies. Want to take a guess as to who those shell companies are rumored to belong to?” Officer Lawrence asked.

  “Whoops,” I said with a shrug. “Sounds like a bad day for you two, gentlemen.”

  “Officer Johnson? Detective? You’re both under arrest,” she said.

  “Actually, I was hoping you’d hold off on that,” I said.

  Everyone stared at me like I was an idiot.

  “Excuse me?” Officer Lawrence asked.

  “What if I told you I have a way to bring down Stefano Bianchi?” I asked.

  “I would be all ears,” the investigator said.

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  “Conrad. Detective Michael Conrad.”

  “I’m not working with a low-life like yourself,” Johnson said.

  “Oh, that hurts. Especially since you work for Stefano Bianchi. Either way, Officer Lawrence, I would enjoy it if you held off on busting Johnson. He is on Stefano’s payroll, and we could use him since he’s the only advantage I’ve currently got,” I said. “You can get your confession later.”

  “And what makes you think we would even want to help you?” Detective Payroll asked.

  “Besides you not going to prison yet?” I asked. “I know Stefano Bianchi’s a bigger pain in your ass then I’ve been since my father passed. I can help you bring him down, and in the process, I can help both the Bianchi and Martine families clean up their act. But I’m going to need help. And a lot of it.”