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“What’s the latest?” she asks. At the subtle shift in my expression, she smirks. “Don’t look at me like that. I know you’re plotting. I heard you and Stitches earlier. How can I help?”
My mind hovers on the recent chat I had with Stitches. “You’re not involved.”
“We agreed my fight is your fight… and vice versa. You might as well keep me informed. I’ll find out anyway,” she says, brushing her lips to mine. “Stubborn and clever, remember?”
I end her teasing by tugging her to my mouth for a deep kiss. You’d think with the evening chill in the air, we’d be cold, but anytime we’re being passionate, we’re our own heat keeping us warm.
“We’re going to be breaking into my father’s summer home. I need to retrieve Stefania’s phone. It has a very important contact on there.”
Her brows knit and I recognize the look—she’s thinking.
“What if,” she says slowly, “I could get you into his home legally? Well, technically, his staff and he wouldbelieveit’s legally.”
The corner of my lip twitches as I can sense her trademark brilliance revealing itself. “I’m listening.”
delphine
The old Delphinewould’ve been appalled by what I’m doing—beyond just breaking the law, I’m breaking the oath I took as a former assistant district attorney sworn by the court.
But that Delphine was under her father’s spell. She was living a life that was a lie without even knowing it, wearing not only rose-colored glasses, but a rose pendant around her neck that doubled as a means of control.
That Delphine was asleep at the wheel.
I’m awake now. More than aware it’s necessary to bend the rules sometimes. In this case, it’s to help Salvatore in his war against his father.
I meant it when I said his fight against Lucius Mancino is my fight. I’ll do everything in my power to help him win, which means pulling whatever I can from my bag of tricks.
At first Salvatore objects to my idea. Expecting him to turn it down on the sheer fact that it could be dangerous and it directly involves me, I’m prepared with a counterargument I present so convincingly, even he’s won over.
I’m sent with enforcers—Fabio and several other handpicked men Salvatore uses when he wants to send an extra intimidating message. The result is terrifying to others, but amusing to me in a twisted sort of way; a five foot, four-inch-tall woman strutting in front of a group of giant, muscly men who look savage enough to eat nails for breakfast.
Judge Anita Herrera’s secretary pops to her feet at the sight of us. “Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing? Who are these men? You don’t have an appointment—you can’t just rush into the judge’s chambers!”
“Tell her it’s former ADA Delphine Adams. We need to talk.”
“That may be, b-but the judge is appointment only—do not touch!” the judicial secretary snaps at one of Salvatore’s men. Her horn-rimmed glasses slant sideways onto her face as she wrestles the desk phone out of his hands.
I haven’t slowed down. I’m headed straight for the judge’s chamber doors. “She’ll make time today.”
The secretary’s outraged gasps fade once I’m through the doors. My muscle goes where I go. Except for a guy nicknamed Guerriero—the same one who stole her desk phone—he stays behind. I’m assuming to ensure the secretary behaves herself.
Judge Herrera’s no less startled than her staff member. The tan-skinned woman with a close-cropped pixie and luxurious robes, snaps upright in her cushiony office chair. Lines crinkle around her eyes and mouth as her expression takes on a sour quality.
“Ms. Adams, I thought I heard a racket out there. Interesting friends you’ve brought with you. May I ask why?”
“I don’t want to be in your hair very long, your honor. Pay no attention to my company. They’re here as an extra precaution.”
Her lips pucker even tighter, her eyes slitting narrower. “I see.”
A second of silence passes where she glares and I stand coolly before her, and though neither of us says a word, it’s clear we’re on the same page.
Herrera was around during Dad’s tenure as DA. She’s run in circles alongside Mayor Bernstein and Commissioner Flynn, among many others. They’ve done as they pleased in Northam while she’s done the same in South Valley.
“How can I help?” she asks slowly, carefully folding her hands on her desk. Her gaze shifts beyond me to my enforcers. A shrewd woman, no doubt she recognizes they’re Mafia guys.
I step forward, approaching her desk, and toss the file I’ve prepared. “I need a signed search warrant for Lucius Mancino’s property. You’ll find affidavits from two separate informants providing credible evidence that Mr. Mancino allegedly poisoned his deceased wife, Stefania Crotone Mancino, and is currently in possession of a cellular device that would corroborate this.”
Herrera sticks her reading glasses on her face and flips through my file. “You expect me to sign a search warrant for one of the most violent crime bosses in the area?”
