Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1)

by Vivi Paige

  I grabbed my wallet and keys and headed out the door.

  “Don’t destroy my apartment while I’m gone!” I called out over my shoulder as I walked out.

  “No promises. Don’t up and vanish on me!”

  “No promises!” I said and shut the door.

  I headed down to the local grocery store, just a couple blocks away from my place. As I was waiting at the corner for the light to change, a black van pulled up right in front of me, stopping in the crosswalk.

  The light changed and I moved to step around the van when the panel door slid open and two men in dark suits stepped out in front of me.

  “Sophie Vercetti?” one of them asked.

  “Yeah, who’s asking?”

  They grabbed my arms on either side. One of them clamped his hand on my mouth, silencing me, and they threw me into the van. A third man slammed the door shut and the van sped off through the city.

  I tried not to panic, figuring that if they were going to kill me, they would have done it already. But it was hard to fight back. There were no windows, and they quickly slapped a piece of duct tape over my mouth so I couldn’t scream.

  My breathing was getting erratic, so I focused on it, trying to calm down, regulate it a bit. My eyes scanned my surroundings, looking for something, anything, to clue me in as to what was happening. But I could barely see a damn thing.

  The van kept making regular right and left turns and I couldn’t track where we were going. We had been driving about 15 minutes, I think, when the van slowed to a stop. I could hear the rattle of a chain link gate being pulled open. We drove through and the gate was shut again behind us.

  We pulled forward a little bit further and then we stopped a second time. The panel door slid open, sunlight flooding the space. It was blinding and I started blinking furiously to get my vision adjusted.

  I was shoved out of the van onto the ground, hitting it hard with my knees. I issued a muffled yelp of pain when I landed. The ground was dirt, not paved and not grass. Where the hell was I?

  “Ms. Vercetti,” a dark voice said.

  I looked up and saw a well-dressed man standing there, I’d say in his late 50s, silver hair, dark suit. He had sunglasses on.

  “Our apologies for the rude nature of your transport, but we wanted to make sure our point was made.”

  My eyes had adjusted to the bright daylight and I saw that I was in a junkyard, probably somewhere on the south side of town was my guess. There were towers of wrecked cars everywhere and scraps of metal littered the ground.

  But, directly in front of me, was a grave. Unmistakable. The well-dressed man was standing just on the other end of it.

  “We’ve brought you here to advise you to drop the Indro Lastra case. It’ll be better for your general well-being. If you don’t, well…”

  He gestured down to the grave.

  “This will be your new living space. Not as roomy as the place you currently occupy.”

  He nodded to the goons, who grabbed me again. I noticed this time one of them had a scorpion tattooed on his hand.

  “Enjoy the rest of your day,” the well-dressed man said and turned and walked away. The goons threw me in the van and we hurtled off again, as quickly as we had come.

  Fifteen minutes later, I was back at my corner. The scorpion tat guy ripped off the tape, and crouched in front of me.

  “Don’t cause a scene,” he said. “Just get out and go home.”

  I nodded and exited the van when they opened the door again. I stood there while the van pulled away and I ran back to the apartment as fast as I could go.

  I had to tell Indro what had happened.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Indro

  I poked around Sophie’s place while she was out getting some food. Man, I gotta say, lawyers live pretty good. This place was nice.

  Good views, hardwood floors, the bedroom had floor-to-ceiling windows on one side. You could really see the whole city. Lovely.

  She had shelves and shelves of books. Lots of law stuff, as you’d expect, but I saw plenty of cookbooks and lots of biographies. All kinds. Athletes, presidents, rock stars, inventors, world leaders. I’ll have to ask her about that, I thought. I wonder what that’s about.

  After I got dressed, I went back into the bedroom and made the bed up. Gotta have a made bed. That’s the only way to start the day. Otherwise, it’s all a mess afterwards. My mother taught me that and I believed it to be very true.

  I poured myself another cup of coffee and turned on the news. They were spouting off about some union dispute or other. I made a mental note to check in about that. Wonder if there’s an angle that the Maloik family could play there? Unions were always good sources of earning.

  I glanced up at the clock Sophie had on the wall. She was gone longer than I would have guessed. More than 40 minutes.

  Hmm.

  Didn’t she say that the grocery store she used was just a couple of blocks away?

  Something began prickling at the back of my neck. I always paid attention to that feeling. It had saved my life more than once over the years. Something was wrong. Sophie should have been back by now.

  I took the coffee mug to the kitchen, pouring what remained down the drain and rinsing it out. Putting on my shoes, I resolved to head out down to the street, see if I could find her.

  Yeah. Something was wrong. I could feel it.

  I was just about to head out the door when it banged open and Sophie came rushing inside, flustered and flushed.

  “Soph! What happened? Where you been?”

  “Indro, Indro, I was—I was—”

  Her breath started to hitch and she couldn’t control it. I put my hands on her shoulders, trying to keep them in place.

  “It’s all right, you’re home and you’re safe now. Deep breaths, babe. Slow it down for me. You can do it. I got yas. Nothin’s gonna get you here.”

  She looked at me with wide eyes that were full of fear. She nodded and slowed her breathing down.

  “I was… I was kidnapped, Indro.”

  “What? Where?”

  “On the… on the corner,” she said, her breath returning to a more normal pace. “A black van. It pulled up, like they were waiting for me, threw open the panel door and grabbed me.”

  “Who? Who grabbed you?”

  She shook her head, putting her hand up.

  “I’m not sure. I need… I need some water.”

  I sat her down at the kitchen table and poured her a glass, bringing it to her. She gulped it down greedily.

  “They taped my mouth. It was awful. It made me so thirsty,” she said, putting the glass down.

  “Yeah. I know. It’s a trick your brain plays on you. Even if you don’t really need it, when your mouth is shut forcibly, your brain reacts that way.”

  “I don’t want to know how you know that.”

  “Tell me some more. Where did they take you?”

  “It was a junkyard, that much I know. I think on the south side of town. That’s where—”

  “—where most of the city’s scrap yards are, right. Good thinking. What happened when you got there?”

  “They shoved me out of the van. There was a guy in his 50s, dressed well, silver hair. He had sunglasses on. He told me that if I didn’t drop your case, Indro, they were gonna come back for me.”

  “He did, huh?”

  “Yes. He did. And he showed me a shallow grave, saying that it was going to be my new home if I didn’t do what they asked.”

  “What else did this guy say?”

  “Nothing. That was it. They threw me back in the van and brought me back here.”

  I stood up and moved to the window, looking out. Who the hell did this?

  “You didn’t hear anyone give a name?”

  “No,” Sophie said.

  “A nickname maybe? Anything that could clue you in to who they were?”

  “They didn’t say anything else, Indro.”

  “Think, Soph! Think
! There must be something! C’mon, you’re smart. Smarter than me. You must have seen something.”

  “One of the goons who grabbed me had a tattoo. On his hand. I spotted it when they grabbed me at the junkyard.”

  “A tat? Of what?”

  “A scorpion. Green and ugly. It was drawn in such a way it looked like it was curling around his wrist. Does that mean anything to you?”

  “A scorpion?” I asked, leaning into her. “You’re sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m positive. Why? Do you know who it is?”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I know a guy who has a tat like that, like what you’re describing. But I can’t be sure that it's him. And if I’m wrong, it could be a huge fucking problem. So I gotta be right.”

  “Indro,” Sophie said, fury rising in her voice, “I was just kidnapped from in front of my apartment building in broad fucking daylight! I’m in this now! And if you know something that could help me, help us, don’t keep it to yourself!”

  She was right. She deserved to know everything, as much as I did.

  “I know one wise guy, yeah. Known him for years, actually. He’s got a tattoo like that. On his hand, like you said. But there’s a problem.”

  “What’s the problem?” Sophie asked with urgency.

  “If this is who I think it is, then this guy is affiliated with the Loggia family.”

  “So what?”

  “So… the Loggias are supposed to be allies with the Maloiks. And if that’s changed, then a whole shit storm is about to go down.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Sophie

  There wasn’t much time to waste on the events of the kidnapping. Indro was up in arms about this possible Loggia crime family connection, but there were other, more immediate matters that needed attention.

  Namely, today was the first day of jury selection for his trial. And that required my focus first and foremost.

  Indro wanted to come with me for the selection hearings and didn’t seem to understand why he couldn’t be there.

  “Let me come!” he said, practically bellowing at me. “C’mon! I’ll be able to sniff out who’s on our side and who’s looking to come down against us!”

  “That’s exactly why you can’t come, Indro,” I said patiently. “First of all, it’s not done. The defendant in a trial doesn’t sit there while the jury is being chosen. That’s common practice. And one of the many reasons for that is because there can’t be any opportunity for the jury to be unduly influenced by outside forces. Or threatened in any way. Do you hear me?”

  He didn’t really. He scowled and pouted and fumed, but he relented in the end. He didn’t have a choice. So I told him to be patient and that I would be in touch as soon as possible.

  “What do I do while you’re at the courthouse?”

  “Why don’t you use all the contacts at your disposal and see if you can’t figure out who kidnapped me, why and what we can do about it? That would be a huge help.”

  “Yeah, yeah, I can do that,” Indro said. “I’ll see if I can’t get some information for you by the time you get back.”

  “But even more important than that,” I said, “what we really need is more intel on Glen Gilberti, who he is, where he’s from, what he’s about. And how the fuck he’s tied up in all this mess.”

  Indro nodded his head.

  “You’re right. That’s gotta be the priority. I’ll make some calls. We have connections in the church. The Maloiks give a lot of money to Catholic charities. I’ll see what kind of information that can buy us.”

  “Good, that would be wonderful. Thanks,” I said, giving him a small kiss as I ran to the bedroom to get ready. “I have to move now.”

  “I hear you, go!”

  I got dressed for court and headed out the door, promising I would call with information as soon as I could.

  As I was leaving, Indro was already on the phone, making calls to his contacts. Hopefully that would keep him occupied for a couple of hours at least.

  Arriving in court, I found the District Attorney, Miller, his name was, there and waiting impatiently.

  “Little late there, Sophie,” he said dryly.

  “Patience, District Attorney Miller. Hang in there.”

  We rose as the judge entered and I groaned involuntarily to myself.

  It was Judge Moreno. She was as no-nonsense as they came and she didn’t particularly like me.

  “Counselors,” she said, taking her seat. “Ms. Vercetti, glad you were able to join us today.”

  “My apologies, Your Honor. I was delayed because of—”

  “I don’t care. You’re here. Let’s move. I don’t want this to be an endless process, is that clear?”

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “Good. Bring in the candidates,” she said and the bailiff went out to bring in the potential jurors.

  Miller leaned over to me.

  “Don’t know why you put yourself in these situations over and over again, Sophie,” he whispered with a little snark to his voice.

  “Because I believe everyone is entitled to a fair defense, Miller. Maybe you should re-read your Constitution. Get a better handle on the law, in general. May be good for you.”

  He laughed then, a sarcastic sound, and turned back to his notes.

  Despite what I’d just said to the judge, I needed this process to stretch out, just a bit. We needed more information about Gilberti, who was the prosecution's star witness. If Indro was able to uncover who was backing Gilberti’s play, then we would be in a stronger position with our defense. I could discredit him on the stand.

  But that was a big if. The way I’d heard it through the grapevine, Miller was planning on bringing Gilberti up front and center right away, making this case a simple slam dunk for him. So I had to do everything I could to delay the process.

  And right now, that meant dismissing jurors for a variety of reasons. I was only allotted so many jury challenges, so I had to use them wisely to make them count.

  The potential jurists came in, a couple dozen of them, and questioning began. First by the DA, then me. In truth, there wasn’t much for me to challenge. The first few were pretty neutral choices. Then, finally, someone was interviewed who was exactly what I was looking for.

  “Mr. Anderson,” Miller began, “you served in the military, that’s correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “With multiple commendations and service awards on your record.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s correct.”

  “That kind of discipline would be welcome on the jury. No challenge.”

  My turn.

  “Mr. Anderson, I understand that you come from a military family, is that correct?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Your father and grandfather also served, is that right?”

  “Correct.”

  “And do I understand rightly that your grandfather was killed in action during World War II?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. I never knew him.”

  “I see. And where was he killed? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Italy.”

  “Italy.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I see. So then, is it safe to say that your family has an inherent bias against Italians?”

  Anderson, Miller and pretty much everyone else in the room was stunned.

  “What?”

  “You’re biased against Italians. Your grandfather was killed by them, after all. The Axis and all that.”

  “I don’t…” He looked over to Miller and then the judge. “Is this for real?”

  “I can assure you it’s definitely for real, Mr. Anderson. I object to this jurist. He won’t be able to offer a fair and impartial viewing of the evidence.”

  Moreno sighed.

  “Ms. Vercetti, are you sure this is the road you want to go down?”

  “Abso
lutely, Your Honor. I’m well within my rights.”

  “Fine. Mr. Anderson, you’re dismissed. Thank you for your service.”

  “You’re welcome… I guess. I don’t understand this.”

  He got up and left the room, muttering to himself the entire time.

  “Counselors, approach the bench please.”

  We walked over, Miller staring at me and shaking his head.

  “Ms. Vercetti, don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing here.”

  “I’m not doing anything, Your Honor, except looking out for my client.”

  “You bet, Counselor. We’re going to break for the day. This better not continue into the next session. Is that clear?”

  “Understood, Your Honor.”

  “All right. We’re adjourned for the day.”

  She banged her gavel and that was that.

  I packed up my paperwork, hoping against hope that Indro had managed to find something out. ‘Cause we needed it. Badly.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Indro

  There was one sure-fire place I knew of to get some information and to get it quickly. The worst-kept secret amongst the families was that the Loggias held an underground poker game every week. The location would move around, but if you knew what palms to grease and what network to pay attention to, you could find out where it was.

  I reached out to my contacts and learned that the poker game was being held in the basement of a bowling alley near the river. It was a favorite spot for the game, in fact. For some reason, people got off on the sounds of the balls rushing down the lanes and the crash of the pins as they fell down.

  Gave the joint atmosphere, they said. I always thought you could do just as well by putting on some Sinatra, but what did I know?

  Word also came down to me that one Loggia family member in particular was going to be there: Enzio.

  The reason that was of particular importance was that Enzio was the wise guy I knew who had that scorpion tattoo. So… may as well make sure it was the same dude. And see what he had to say for himself if he was.