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“Well…” I turn to smile at Alistair. “The DiBella case you’re working on?”
It’s a fairly high-profile case. Jimmy DiBella, one of the best hitmen for the Impastato family, a tributary family to the Marchettis, is on trial for, well,being a hitman.
“I have a golden bullet that shreds your star witness’ testimony.”
Alistair’s jaw clenches as he gives me a hard look. “Fuck off, Dante.”
“That’d be a brutal case to lose. It’d destroy that near perfect record of yours. And I can’t imagine Cesare Marchetti would be jumping to put you in charge of more of his billable legal needs if Jimmy goes to prison with you as his defender.”
They glance at each other as I bite back a smug smile. They know I’m right.
“What sort of a golden bullet?” Alistair mutters.
“Here.” I hand him a thumb drive. “That star witness had an ongoing secret affair with DiBella two years ago.”
He tries to hide it, but there’s not stopping the way Alistair’s jaw clenches at the news.
“Neither of them has ever admitted it, obviously, given that it’sthe mafiaand they’re both so far in the closet they can’t even find the door. But your witness went apeshit on DiBella when Jimmy tried to end things. Trashed his apartment, torched his clothes, smashed up his car. Real psycho shit. DiBella didn’t report it, or him, because, well…” I shrug. “The gay thing, not tomention that mafia hitmen tend to prefer not to call the cops for anything.”
Alistair stares at me. “There’s proof of this?”
I nod at the thumb drive in his hand. “It’s all on there. And foryou, Gabriel, since we don’t want you feeling left out…”
I pass him a second thumb drive.
“That drama with the prostitute the media briefly stirred up a year ago, concerning Governor Atkins?”
His shoulders tighten. “Why would I give a shit about Governor Atkins?”
“Dunno,” I smile. “But I’m sure the political consulting firm you’ve had three meetings with might give alittlebit of a shit about it.”
Gabriel stiffens. So does Alistair, who turns and glares at him.
“We were going to talk about that,” he hisses.
“It’s nothing,” Gabriel murmurs back.
“Anyhoo, those weren’t just rumors.” I nod my chin at the second thumb drive. “And I think your consulting firm would love to dig into it.”
They both drop their gazes to the thumb drives, then raise their eyes back to me suspiciously.
“Why are you doing this?” Alistair growls.
“Because we might not like each other, and I know that’s putting things mildly. But I’m Tempest’s husband, and you’reher brothers. We don’t have to be best friends, but can we at least put the fucking guns down? For her?”
They’re silent for a second, then Gabriel sighs heavily. “Fuck it. Fine.”
“Like you said,” Alistair grunts. “We don’t have to be best friends.” He holds up the thumb drive. “But if this is what you say it is, then… Thank you.”
“Guys?” Tempest pokes her head in. “Dinner’s ready.”
We all step into the dining room, and Gabriel turns to Pam as she sets a tray of food down on the table. “Pam, could you please grab a bottle of the ’95 Chateau Margaux? I can open it up here.”
“Right away, Mr. Black.”
I smirk, glancing at him. “My my, Gabriel. That’s an eight-thousand-dollar bottle of wine.”
“Yeah, well, happy wedding, you prick.”
