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

by Vivi Paige

  I hit the back door and nodded at Lorenzo, a well-liked associate plagued by bad luck. Since I was a made man, he didn’t bother with patting me down for guns or wires. He toyed with a pair of loaded dice in his pocket. I could hear them clinking around as I hit the stairs leading to the office section of the establishment.

  Lorenzo’s a good kid. Smart, eager, wields guns like Doc Friggin’ Holliday, but he’s unlucky. Us family types are kind of superstitious, which might have been hindering his ascension to made man status.

  I put Lorenzo and his problems out of my mind. I had plenty of my own to deal with. Flavio must have called ahead to tell Don Maloik I was coming, because his dark eyes didn’t show a hint of surprise.

  “Indro,” he said, gesturing at an empty spot at the table. “Have a seat. You remember Vinnie and his boys, right?”

  “Sure do. How’s it hanging, Vinnie?”

  “Down to my knee, as always.”

  We all shared a laugh, even the Don, as I settled in. Don Maloik puffed on his stogie, giving a sinister red cast to his wizened features.

  “Flavio tells me you wanted to talk. So, talk.”

  I cleared my throat, stifling another sneeze. The Don sees sneezes as a sign of weakness, crazy as that sounds. When he sneezes, he gets all types of pissy. It’s not a pretty sight.

  “I put myself out there as bait, just like you said, and boy, did it ever work. I got jumped by five Loggia goons.”

  “You sure they were Loggias?”

  I chose my words carefully. “I didn’t see any direct evidence, no. They was wearing masks over their ugly faces. I did run into Mr. Scorpion Tattoo again, though.”

  “Like I said before, a tat don’t mean it really was Enzio.”

  “No, but some idiot called him out by name and the rest of the goons got pissed. They even slapped the ass in the back of his head.”

  Don Maloik took the cigar stub out of his mouth and crushed it out in an ashtray, clearly annoyed. Even though I knew his annoyance wasn’t directed at yours truly, I still had to repress a shudder. An annoyed Don Maloik is a dangerous Don Maloik.

  “We still don’t have enough to hit the mattresses with the Loggias.” Maloik glanced over at Vinnie and his boys. “Give us a minute, will you?”

  “Sure thing, Don,” Vinnie said.

  “And have Lorenzo start up the car, get the heat cranking,” Don Maloik called after him. “Last time I sat on the leather seat my balls turned blue and shrank to the size of raisins.”

  Don Maloik turned back to me. He took a sip of whiskey and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

  “Indro, you know I don’t always like your cocky attitude, but I do appreciate your talent and ability. Not to mention your intelligence.”

  “Thanks, Don. I’ve been trying to rein in my attitude of late.”

  He waved me off as if it weren’t a great concern. “Listen, Indro. If your gut is telling you the Loggias want a war, then I’m not about to discount your concerns.”

  “I thought you said we couldn’t strike at them yet.”

  “I did. Jesus Fucking Christ, Indro, let a man finish, will ya? Sheesh.” Don Maloik leaned back in his seat and stared me down. I repressed the urge to swallow and fidget. “Here’s the situation. I don’t have enough evidence to start hitting them where it hurts, but I do think a summit is in order.”

  I nodded. “Great idea. Might I humbly request to be present at this summit?”

  “You may. This involves you most of all.” Don Maloik gestured toward the door. “Go on, get out of here. You ruined my good mood and I’ve got a feeling I’m about to lose my famous kind streak.”

  “Of course, Don.” I swiftly stood up and took my leave. If the Loggias really did want a war with the Maloiks, they were either ballsy, stupid, or both.

  Cause I’d rather go toe to toe with the devil himself than Don Maloik when he’s in a foul mood.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sophie

  I sat at the counsel's table, waiting for the trial to begin. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, closing my eyes for the briefest of moments. I didn’t want DA Miller to see me feeling rattled. Nothing like kidnapping and mob conspiracies and gunfights to get your back up, but I needed to appear in control and calm. So that was the plan.

  “C’mon, Sophie,” I muttered to myself. “Get yourself together. You can do it.”

  And that’s when the bailiff entered, saying those two familiar words.

  “All rise.”

  Everyone in court stood as the judge entered. As she sat down, so did we.

  Here we go, I thought.

  “Is the District Attorney ready with opening statements?”

  Miller stood up, impeccable in a dark navy suit.

  “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You may proceed.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.”

  He stepped out in front of his table, addressing the jury.

  “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we are all citizens of Chicago. And we know all too well that this city, for all of its history, its glorious triumphs and successes, has also long been home to organized crime. This is not a myth. This is not an urban legend. This is fact. This is real. It is a plague on our community. Drug trafficking. Racketeering. Grand larceny. And let us not forget… murder. The accused, Indro Lastra, is a well-known member of the Maloik crime family—”

  “Objection, Your Honor.” I stood up swiftly. “The DA is speculating about my client’s associations and attempting to prejudice the jury.”

  Judge Moreno nodded, her eyes narrowing on DA Miller. “Sustained. Mr. Miller, you will stick to the facts regarding this case, and this case alone. Is that clear?”

  Miller’s face twitched a scowl. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “You may proceed.”

  “The facts in this case are not in question. We will prove that Indro Lastra committed the crime of murder on the streets of our fair city. And we know that you will convict him of this heinous crime. Thank you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Miller. You may sit. Ms. Vercetti? Is the defense ready to present opening arguments?”

  I stood up, straightening my blazer as I did so. Here it was. Moment of truth.

  “The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

  “Proceed,” she said, without even looking up at me. She was making notes as I began.

  Buttoning my jacket, I stepped out in front of my table, saying a quick prayer to St. Jude, the patron saint of lost causes. I figured it couldn’t hurt.

  “Thank you, Your Honor. Good day to you all. Thank you for your service today, serving as jurists for the city of Chicago. And, let’s be honest, I’m sure most of you would have preferred to be at home today, or at your jobs, am I right? No one likes being picked for jury duty.”

  That got a little chuckle from the gallery and I saw a couple of wry smiles amongst the jury.

  Ok, I thought. So far, so good.

  “I’ve wondered about that,” I said. “About why we don’t want to be picked for jury duty. I’m not any different. I see that little green and yellow card in the mail and I think ‘Oh man. What a drag.’ But you know what? I always show up in the end. Just like you have. Because this is what is asked of us as citizens of this city, this state, and this nation.”

  I saw some heads nodding along to what I was saying. Let’s keep that rolling, I thought.

  “Well, what if you were suddenly thrust into a situation where you didn’t have a choice? Where a choice was thrust upon you? Such is the case with Mr. Lastra. He didn’t want to do what he did in that dark alley. Circumstances forced his hand.”

  I turned a solemn frown on the jury, folding my hands behind my back.

  “We do not dispute that a violent act occurred. We do not dispute that Indro Lastra committed that act. What we do dispute is the motivation for said violent act. In this case, the so-called victim, Diego Malone, attacked my client. With force and wicked intent.”

  There were some small mu
rmurs at this. Good. So much the better.

  “My client was forced to defend himself against the assault of the alleged victim, forced to commit an act that he wanted no part of! And every citizen of Chicago, every American, in fact, has the right to defend himself or herself against an assault! These charges are spurious and need to be dropped immediately!”

  There was an outcry in the gallery then, people talking over each over, the DA jumping to his feet, screaming about evidence and points of law, the judge banging her gavel on the bench, demanding order.

  Confusion was reigning in the courtroom. And for now, confusion was my best damn friend.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Indro

  The summit meeting between the Loggias and Maloiks had been set and it was time for us to head there.

  After consulting with all the capos, Don Maloik decided that the best place for the meeting was the Langham Hotel, one of the most exclusive joints in all of Chicago. I had never stayed there. It was out of my price range. I was guessing that only the Dons of families could afford to spend a night or two there. And probably not every Don either.

  Which made sense, given the circumstances. Don Maloik knew that the meeting had to be at what was technically a neutral site, not controlled by either family. But Maloik knew the Langham, had stayed there, and put up foreign guests there when they came to town. He knew the chef and the concierge. It was a slight advantage, but an advantage nonetheless. And one thing I’ve learned over the years in this business, you do whatever you can to get ahead. Even if it's only by a little bit.

  Don Maloik had reserved the private dining room for the meeting. We arrived early, to make sure that the Loggias saw us already set and waiting.

  We had men stationed at every entrance to the hotel and had four outside the dining room door, not to mention all the men we had in the dining room proper, including me.

  It was probably more than a little stupid for me to be there, what with the trial having already started, but I needed to be able to point things out to Don Maloik and make my case. As long as no trouble went down, I would be okay and able to make it back to court for the next session.

  As I sat down at the table across from the Don, I knocked on wood. Just in case.

  “Worried, Indro?” Don Maloik said to me.

  “No, sir. I just figure, why tempt fate? Am I right?”

  He nodded.

  “You’re right.”

  One of our guards opened the door and nodded his head.

  “All right,” Don Maloik said, standing up, “let ‘em in.”

  The guard opened the dining room doors wide and in strode Don Loggia and his crew.

  He walked over to the table with a confident air. He was dressed sharply in a gray suit, a white scarf around his neck. Enzio was with him, his arm in a sling from where I’d shot him. He glowered at me with a barely-contained rage.

  “Hey Enzio,” I said cheerfully, “how’s the arm? Back to bowling soon, I hope.”

  “The sooner I crack your head open like a five-ten split,” he said.

  I took a step towards him and Maloik put his hand on me.

  “Easy now, Indro,” Don Maloik said to me.

  Loggia did the same with Enzio.

  “Boys will be boys, am I right, Don Maloik?” he said, as if discussing a Little League game.

  “Right you are,” Maloik answered.

  “Don Maloik,” Loggia said with a pleasant formality, offering his hand. “It’s so good to see you again.”

  Maloik took his hand and drew in Loggia for a hug, kissing him on both cheeks.

  “And good to see you, Don Loggia. We appreciate you joining us on such short notice. What can we get you? Coffee? Tea? Something to nosh on, perhaps? They make a beautiful antipasto here.”

  Loggia waved his hand.

  “I couldn’t, thank you so much. The damn doctors, they tell me I need to watch the salt intake, can you believe that? Salt! As if there’s anything better in this world than salt!”

  The two of them chuckled at that and Maloik gestured to the chair across from him. Loggia nodded and sat down, Maloik following suit.

  “So what can I do for the Maloiks today? I know things are busy, especially now, am I right, Indro?” he said to me with a slight smirk.

  “Right you are, Don Loggia. Time is tight, that’s for sure,” I replied.

  “Time is tight, Don Loggia,” Don Maloik said, “and I don’t want to waste your time. So, to that end, I’ll get right to it, shall I?”

  “Please,” Loggia said. “I like getting to the point.”

  Maloik lit up a cigar and took a drag.

  “Cuban. The best. I will get you some if you’d like,” he said. Loggia nodded gratefully.

  “Most kind.”

  “The issue here, Don Loggia, as evidenced by the… tension… between our two boys, is that the Loggia family is making moves without sanction. Acting unilaterally, in ways that could threaten the peace in our families.”

  “I don’t know what you mean, Don Maloik. The Loggias would never act in such a manner.”

  “I see. So, you deny that you threatened Indro’s defense lawyer? Kidnapped her and took her to a scrap yard? Showed her a shallow grave dug just for her?”

  Loggia started to laugh then, and I could see the subtle shift in Don Maloik’s body language. He wasn’t pleased.

  “Don Maloik, with all due respect, the Loggias couldn’t be bothered with such cheap theatrics. When we want something done, we just do it. Being direct is so much better, don’t you think?”

  Loggia let a smug smile slide across his face and it was all I could do not to reach over there and slap it off.

  “And this business with Indro?” Maloik said. “You’re telling me there’s nothing to it?”

  “Don Maloik, I would never presume to tell you how to conduct your family and your business, of course, but can Indro really be trusted right now? The kid fucked up, got caught and is probably desperate to not end up in the joint. I’m sorry that he’s not made of sterner stuff for you, but it’s hard to get good help these days, am I right?”

  I started to say something, but Maloik held out his hand and stopped me.

  “You’re right about that, Don Loggia. Good help is hard to find these days.”

  He stood abruptly then, extending his hand.

  “I appreciate your time.”

  Loggia looked at the offered hand a moment, a little unsure, then stood up and took it.

  “Always available to help out the boss,” he said warmly and then, with a gesture to his men, he turned and swept out of the room.

  Don Maloik stood there a moment, chewing his cigar.

  “Well,” he said finally. “He’s a lying sack of shit. And we’re gonna nail his traitorous ass to the wall.”

  I grinned.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Sophie

  It was going as well as could be expected. The DA was smart and prepared, there was no question about that. His examination of witnesses and experts was precise and assured. And Miller was articulate and personable. There was a reason his conviction rate was so high. And the jury liked him. You could feel it in the room. And Miller knew it too.

  All good then. I just had to make sure that they liked me more.

  Indro had made it back from his meeting just in time. He looked a little harried but otherwise pretty good. He had dressed in a tasteful gray suit, nothing too flashy, clean-shaven, and he was following my instructions about appearing contrite and humble. So far, anyway.

  Today was the day when Indro would be taking the stand. I leaned over to him.

  “Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” I whispered.

  “All that matters is making it to the church on time. And I have. So let it go.”

  “Want to tell me where you’ve been?” I said.

  He shook his head slightly.

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know.”

  “Fabulous.”
/>   “Ms. Vercetti?” the judge called out from the bench.

  “Yes, Your Honor?”

  “Is the defense ready to proceed?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. Thank you, Your Honor.”

  I stood up and looked down at Indro, who winked at me. I shook my head and sighed.

  “The defense calls Indro Lastra to the stand.”

  Indro stood up, buttoned his jacket and walked over to the witness stand, a bailiff approaching.

  “Raise your right hand,” the bailiff said and Indro did.

  “Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so you help you God?”

  “God, Buddha, Vishnu, whatever you got,” Indro said, sparking some laughter from the gallery and the jury.

  “A simple ‘I do’ will suffice, Mr. Lastra,” the judge said tiredly.

  “Apologies, Your Honor. I do,” Indro said and sat down. I walked over to the witness stand and took a breath.

  “Mr. Lastra, thanks for joining us here today.”

  “Not like I had much choice, Counselor,” he said, invoking more laughter.

  “Indeed,” I said. “Now, Mr. Lastra, the District Attorney has stated that, regarding the death of Diego Malone, he was killed by you in a cold-blooded act of murder. What do you say to that charge?”

  Indro shook his head emphatically.

  “What I did was in self-defense. Diego Malone came at me with a friggin’ chunk of concrete, and I did what I had to do to walk out of that alley alive.”

  “So you’re stating that you didn’t murder Diego Malone, but only acted to protect yourself. Is that correct, Mr. Lastra?”

  “Smart and a good listener. Are you seeing anybody?”

  More chuckles from the crowd and I gave Indro a look to stop flirting with me. Now was not the time.

  Judge Moreno frowned, adjusting her glasses as she peered down at Indro. “Please answer either yes or no, Mr. Lastra.”

  Indro shrugged. “Yes, that’s correct.”

  “Mr. Lastra, could you tell the court what happened on the night in question?”