Mob Lawyer 3: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  I ducked the blow, yanked down on his gun hand, and jabbed my fingers into the crook of his elbow. He nearly lost his hold on the pistol, but he quickly adjusted and brought his other elbow down on my shoulder.

  Searing pain shot through my arm, and I instinctively twisted away from the blow, taking his wrist with me. We fell to the grimy concrete with matching grunts. Then the butt of his pistol hit the ground with a loud crack before it tumbled out of his hand toward the sewer drain a few feet away and clattered through the slats of the grated cover.

  “Shit!” Nelson huffed as he tried to crawl out from under me toward the drain.

  “Guess it’s a fair fight now,” I muttered and delivered a quick fist to his ribs.

  The sergeant gasped for air before he rolled to his back and tried to kick me in the face. I moved my head to the side just in time for his boot to connect with the same shoulder he’d hit earlier.

  I groaned as a cold numbness trickled down my left arm, and I hoped he hadn’t done any real damage, but I couldn’t worry about that right now. I had to make it out of this alley alive first.

  Before I could decide on a course of action, Nelson lashed out with his boot again, and I was back on the defense. I scurried out of his reach, and his kick missed my nose by mere inches.

  I clambered to my feet with my hands in front of me as he stood to face me.

  “Slick little bastard, aren’t ya?” he laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t need a gun anyway. I’ve dealt with worse than you.”

  “You can just let me go,” I offered as I took a sideways step closer to the exit. “It doesn’t have to continue from here. We can go our separate ways.”

  “Nah, you already pissed me off,” Nelson thundered before he came at me like a sumo wrestler.

  He was much wider than I was, but I was faster.

  The corrupt cop’s thick fist zoomed toward my face, but I blocked his swing with my left arm, which barely held up under the pressure. I winced with pain but brought my right fist up into his jaw with a strike that rattled his teeth. He dropped his fist as he teetered backward and then regained his balance to charge me again.

  I wasn’t ready for a full tackle, and he laid his shoulder into my chest as he drove me back toward the brick wall behind me. My head snapped against the hard surface, and I saw stars dancing around in my vision.

  Nelson wrapped his meaty hands around my throat and pressed me against the wall while he dug his fingers into my skin. I gasped for air as his grip crushed my airway before I finally regained my composure and reached across his arms to grab his right hand. I squeezed hard enough to feel his bones shift under the skin and then drove my knee into his gut as I wrenched his hand away from my throat and across his other arm. His body continued to twist as he tried to spin further from me, and I took advantage of his momentum.

  I put my foot against the small of his back and shoved him forward. The sergeant went stumbling forward, and his head smacked into the side of the large metal dumpster with a crash that echoed down the alley like a cymbal.

  Nelson’s body crumpled to the ground, and I took in a few shaky breaths until I realized he was still breathing. I had to get the hell out of here.

  Before the corrupt cop could wake up from his metallic landing, I scanned the alley for my jacket. I didn’t want to leave any evidence that I’d been in the alley with Sergeant Nelson, and a jacket I’d just purchased this morning would be a pretty obvious clue. I saw it near the sewage drain, picked it up from the damp ground, and sprinted past the patrol car toward my apartment building.

  “Mr. Morgan,” Sulla greeted me with a smile that quickly fell from his face. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah,” I answered in a voice that was still hoarse from Nelson’s hands around my throat. “Just, ah, need to get cleaned up.”

  “Did you get mugged again?” he asked. “I can call the police for you. I just saw a patrol car down the block earlier.”

  “No!” I cleared my throat when his eyes widened. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about, okay?”

  “If you say so,” Sulla said doubtfully. “I’ll be here for a few more hours if you change your mind.”

  “Thank you,” I replied and glanced over my shoulder. “Just give me a heads up if anyone comes up to see me.”

  “Okay,” he agreed.

  Before the Ugandan could ask any more questions, I took off at a jog toward the stairs and took them two at a time to my floor. I power walked to my door while I dug my keys out from my jacket pocket and bolted inside, and then I thumbed the deadbolt shut and leaned against the door with relief.

  A fight with a police officer was definitely not on my list of things I wanted to do today, though it was better than being killed by one.

  My phone buzzing against my thigh nearly gave me a heart attack, and I took a deep breath before I pulled it out and glanced at the name. Sulla was calling me from downstairs.

  “Sulla, I really don’t need to call the cops--” I started.

  “It’s not that, Mr. Morgan,” Sulla cut me off. “I know you didn’t want to call them, which is why I thought it was weird for a plainclothes cop to come looking for you.”

  “He came to the door?” I couldn’t believe Nelson had been so bold, and I jumped up to try to figure out how to get out before he made it up to my place.

  “Yeah, I told him you hadn’t made it home for the night yet,” he explained. “I hope that’s okay. He looked insane, but he had a badge, so I knew he was a real cop. I just didn’t like giving him any information about you.”

  “Thank you,” I breathed and walked over to the couch to flop on the cushion with a sigh. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “It felt like the right thing, Mr. Morgan,” Sulla said firmly. “I don’t need to know what you’ve got going on, but I knew that man was trouble.”

  “He is,” I confirmed. “Thanks again, Sulla. I owe you one.”

  “Have a good night, Mr. Morgan,” he replied.

  We hung up, and I scrolled through my notifications before I dropped my phone onto the table with a groan. I’d survived Nelson’s attack, but I had no idea how Anthony had fared. He hadn’t called or texted me since I’d warned him about the ambush, and that was nearly an hour ago.

  I hadn’t heard any sirens nearby since we’d left the party, so that had to be a good sign, but I couldn’t be too sure. With Chief Flores in the Serbians’ pockets, he could have easily found a way to keep a shooting quiet if he wanted to. Even Nelson might have had enough time to go back and cover for the Serbs once Sulla had steered him away from my apartment. The real problem for the corrupt officials was the press. They may not always get the right information from the cops, but they would have at least written that something had happened.

  I checked the local news stations for any reports of a shooting, attack, or anything wild in Brooklyn, but nothing sounded like it could have been Anthony. I scanned over my social media feeds and still couldn’t find anything happening. Several people had posted about seeing Anthony and his attorney at the Mayor’s gala, but not a peep about him afterwards.

  Well, checking the news stations reminded me I had some pictures to send to Brenda. I pulled up our messages and dumped two dozen photos into her inbox with a short little message to talk to Lily if she wanted some more information about our appearance. Then I decided to add a little hint to watch her back.

  Are the goons after me now? Brenda’s response read.

  Hope not, but you can’t be too careful, I sent back. Just keep your eyes open.

  Always do.

  I went back to my inbox and refreshed the screen, but Anthony still hadn’t texted me. My voicemail was empty, too, so I decided to at least send a message to my client to check.

  Made it to my apartment finally. You good?

  I stared at the screen for several minutes, and nothing appeared. I sent another text to Alessia to see how her big case had gone before I set my phone down on the couch next
to me and sighed heavily.

  What if Anthony wasn’t answering because they’d killed him already? Or maybe they’d taken him hostage. I doubted they’d let him live for very long if they’d captured him. Considering Nelson had tried to kill me, the lowly attorney, Anthony would certainly be a bigger target.

  I stood up and paced my living room for a few minutes, but I was going crazy wondering what had happened. I decided to clean up and relax while I waited instead of overthinking it. I turned my phone volume up so I could hear it ring before I put it on the charger and headed for the bathroom.

  My stupid expensive suit was ruined, but I peeled it off and tossed it into the hamper anyway. Maybe Elijah could fix them just as well as he could fit them. I turned the water on as hot as I could stand it and let the steam fill my bathroom. The exhaustion of my evening was finally starting to set in now that my adrenaline had returned to normal. I was worn out from tonight’s events.

  I heard the two beeps that signaled a text message, and I raced back over to my phone to check.

  Won the case and sent a serial rapist to prison. Hope we can get together soon.

  I stared blankly at Alessia’s message for a moment and then sent back a quick reply.

  We need to. I’ll call you in the morning.

  Part of me wanted to invite the ADA over tonight for a little unwinding time, but I didn’t want to have to explain my current condition to her just yet. That was a can of worms I’d have to open soon enough, and tonight, I needed to just chill out and wait to hear back from Anthony.

  I walked back to the steamy bathroom, stepped into the shower, and let the hot water wash over my tight muscles and bruised skin. My shoulder was throbbing all the way down to my fingers, and my knuckles were cut and torn from the blows I’d landed on Nelson. I scrubbed under my nails in case any of his skin got under them while I let the steam fill my lungs.

  After nearly an hour, I felt somewhat human again. I toweled off and wiped the mirror to check my reflection. My skin had already started to bruise along my throat, but my shoulder worried me more than a few marks. It was clearly swollen and bruised from Nelson’s elbow and boot coming down on me, and my mobility was limited.

  I pulled on sweats and did what every normal American does. I Googled my symptoms to figure out what was wrong with my shoulder. After I scanned over a few websites, I determined I’d dislocated it. I watched a couple videos and decided to try to put it back into place myself.

  I lined up with the doorway to my bedroom and slammed into it. Red hot fire seared down my arm, and I had to cover my mouth with my other hand to keep from yelling. I still couldn’t roll my shoulder, and most of the videos said it might take a few tries, so I rammed it again.

  On the fourth try, I heard the pop of my bones returning to their normal location, and I could feel the warmth return to my fingers as I flexed them a few times.

  I groaned with relief, but I realized I still had one problem left to solve.

  Where the hell was Anthony?

  Chapter 10

  I crawled into bed around two in the morning. My phone was fully charged and set to ring, so once my client finally reached out, I’d hear it, but I could barely keep my eyes open anymore. Between my sore muscles and exhaustion, my body was done for the day. I’d popped a couple of ibuprofen an hour ago, and it was finally starting to kick in.

  The shrill ring of my cell woke me up before I even realized I was asleep, and I grabbed it off my nightstand with lightning speed.

  “Hello,” I answered groggily.

  “Damn, couldn’t even stay up and make sure I was alive?” Anthony’s teasing voice filled my body with relief.

  “I tried!” I argued. “You took forever. What happened?”

  “The problem was resolved,” he hedged.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I wondered.

  “You don’t want me to answer that.” Anthony’s voice dropped into the dark tone I recognized when he was serious. “If I wanted to tell you more, I would.”

  “Fair enough,” I conceded after a moment.

  “It took you a while to make it home,” he said in a quick topic change. “Any issues?”

  “Nothing I couldn’t handle,” I replied. “Nelson really doesn’t like me. I’m pretty sure he planned to kill me tonight, too.”

  “How sure?” Anthony demanded.

  “He had a gun and wasn’t wearing his uniform,” I explained. “He also asked if I thought you’d attend my funeral, so that seemed clear.”

  “Bastard,” my client spat. “How did you get away?”

  “I kicked his ass,” I chuckled. “He got a few hits in, but we knocked the gun into the sewer, so he didn’t have the upper hand for long. I knocked him out on a dumpster.”

  “A dumpster?” Anthony burst out laughing. “Hunter, you’re something else, man. I think Landis would have just shit himself.”

  I tried to picture Lyle Landis, Anthony’s family attorney, in that dark alley trying to fight off Sergeant Nelson, and I had to laugh, too. He was probably a killer in the courtroom, but on the street, he’d be too worried about getting a fleck of dirt on his Hermes scarf.

  “I guess I’ve proven myself,” I snickered.

  “You have, indeed,” Anthony agreed, though his tone held a hint of seriousness.

  “What do you think the Serbians are trying to get done?” I wondered after a brief pause.

  “By killing us?” He sounded surprised at the question. “Getting us out of their way, I suppose.”

  “I’m sure that’s something,” I murmured. “But they could have tried that several times already by now. Nelson said we thought we were untouchable by going to that party. I think that must have set off something.”

  “Maybe someone was there that we should have noticed,” Anthony mused. “Someone that would link the Mayor and his cronies to the Serbs.”

  “Well, the guards were a pretty obvious link,” I pointed out. “I mean, maybe not to everyone else, but we saw them right away.”

  “Exactly,” he agreed. “We saw them, so we had to be dealt with tonight before we could tell anyone else.”

  There was another silent pause as Anthony chewed over the information.

  “Shit,” he muttered. “I think you’re right. Guess we weren’t very sneaky when we noticed them.”

  “I don’t think it would have mattered,” I said. “Even if we hadn’t said a word, they had to cover their asses anyway. They wouldn’t have wanted to risk it.”

  “True,” he agreed. “Once we made that connection in person, they couldn’t let us get home, so now, we’re going to have to be even more careful. I’m sending two of my guys to watch your place tonight.”

  “My doorman kept Nelson out once.” I frowned at the thought of the corrupt cop trying again. “You don’t think he’d come back, do you?”

  “I’d rather not give him the chance,” he replied. “Like I said, I couldn’t have counted on Landis to do what you did. Like Grandfather Regalo always says, you’ve got le palle.”

  “Do I want to know what that means?” I chuckled.

  “You’ve got balls,” Anthony explained with a laugh. “But I’m still sending my guys. Do you want them to come up to your place?”

  “Nah, anyone that comes in has to go to the front door unless they have a maintenance key for the back,” I answered. “I should be alright. I think we need to do one other thing, though.”

  “What’s that?” he wondered.

  “We should loop Alessia in,” I replied with a sigh. “If they’d gotten us both tonight, she would never know what all she was up against. Right now, she just thinks the Mayor and Chief Flores tell DA Jordan what to do, but she doesn’t know their orders come from the Serbians.”

  “You’re probably right,” my client agreed. “She needs to know what’s going on, and maybe she has some ideas for how to expose them and keep Chatel out of the DA’s office.”

  “I think with actual evidence, she’
d support that,” I said. “She doesn’t want a smear campaign, but that’s completely different from letting people know the truth.”

  “Okay, do what you need to do,” Anthony decided. “Let me know if she comes up with anything.”

  “Will do.” I hung up and laid back against my pillow.

  I was relieved that Anthony had survived whatever the Serbian guys had coming for him, and it was probably a good idea for him to add some security for me since Nelson obviously knew where I lived. I wasn’t sure who would be outside my building, but I knew if Anthony trusted them there, I’d be safe.

  A few hours later, my internal alarm clock woke me up long before I’d wanted to get up for the day. I felt like I could have slept the whole day, but I had some things to get done.

  I checked my phone for notifications and saw Alessia had texted back that she’d be waiting to hear from me. It was finally time to let her in on everything Anthony and I had discovered about her opponent, and hopefully, it would give her some peace of mind that we wanted her to win for good reason.

  Her phone barely rang before the ADA picked up.

  “Finally,” she breathed. “Your cryptic message had me worried.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to worry you, but we do need to meet. Have you had breakfast?”

  “If you count a cup of coffee that sloshed all over the subway this morning on my way to work, then yes,” Alessia quipped. “I could really go for a muffin, though. Or pancakes and bacon.”

  “I’m down for some good diner food,” I agreed.

  “Meet me at Happy Days?” she suggested.

  “I can be there in about twenty minutes,” I said as I slid out of bed to find some clothes.

  “See you there,” the ADA declared before she hung up.

  I pulled on jeans and a striped button-up shirt, and then I reached into my closet and retrieved my Smith & Wesson. I holstered the pistol with the butt sticking out of the waistband of my jeans. While I normally made sure it was concealed, part of me wanted to ward off any attackers by showing I was more than ready to defend myself if I had to.