Chapter 39 #2
We stand like that for another beat, then I ease her back into the rocker. She sits, palms flat on her knees, eyes on me. The storm is still there, but the edge has dulled. This is the moment to give her the thing I’ve been holding.
“There’s something you need to hear,” I say.
Her spine straightens an inch. “What?”
“The hit,” I say. “It didn’t start with the Russos.”
She blinks. “What?” she says again.
“It came out of your office,” I say.
Her eyes sharpen. “My office? What do you mean?”
“Someone named Noah Akers.”
For a second, she looks as if I’ve spoken nonsense. She lets out a little laugh of disbelief, then her jaw tightens. “Akers?” She shakes her head. “No. That’s not possible.”
“Yes,” I say. “Antonio traced the tip to your boss back to Akers. Webform token, server logs, a timestamp from his personal phone while he was on a coffee shop Wi-Fi three blocks from the courthouse. He fed Hart the ‘anonymous’ tips. And he contacted the Russos.”
Color leaves her face and returns in a flush. “One of my colleagues tried to have me killed?”
“Yes.”
She shakes her head, smaller and smaller. “Noah isn’t on my case. He’s… he’s in the office, yes, but he’s not on my team. We’ve been in meetings together. We— I barely know him.” She spits the last part out. “He contacted the Russos?”
“He did,” I say. “Or he used someone who did. Either way, it’s him.”
Her eyes are on me and through me and beyond me at once. “Do you think… does he work for them?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “It could be that. Or it could be simpler and uglier. He might have something against you and knew the Russos would jump at a chance to make me bleed. He calls, he gives them your routine, he gives them timing, he tosses a plate of raw meat in front of wolves and walks away. No loyalty required. Only malice.”
She pushes out of the rocker and starts pacing.
“Why?” She says it to herself, then stops and faces me. “What would he have against me? I barely know him!” It’s louder and angrier this time.
Then her shoulders drop, and a considering look crosses her face.
“What is it?” I ask sharply. “Something about Akers?”
She exhales, sharply. “He was slated to work your case. Before I transferred in.”
I tilt my head. “A case? That’s all?”
“You don’t understand,” she says, anger giving way to what I consider her lawyer voice.
“This isn’t just any case. This is the type of case that can make or break a career.
Can get you any job in the country. The kind that makes partners out of people who were never going to be partners. He was passed over.”
“Because of you,” I say.
“Maybe,” she says. “Truth is, he was never going to lead the case. He doesn’t have it in him. Whether it was me or not, he was always just going to be part of the team. But when I came in, I handpicked my team. And he wasn’t on it.”
“Maybe he thought otherwise. Maybe he thought he’d be leading if you hadn’t come,” I consider.
She shakes her head. “But that was months ago. If it were just about the assignment, he could’ve tried to sandbag me from the start. Why now?”
“Maybe it wasn’t only the assignment,” I offer. “It could be who he lost it to. He can live with being passed over. But a woman shows up from another district, takes it, and then… well…” I drop my eyes to her growing belly. “Maybe it’s that you’re with me and botched it.”
She gives me an offended look and takes on a very prim voice. “I didn’t botch anything. My case was solid. If I wasn’t carrying your baby, you’d be back in prison.”
I bite my lip to suppress the grin. “Noted.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “Watch it. I might still send you back.”
“Agree to disagree.” I smile, then get serious. “Regardless. Not my words. I’m simply trying to get into the mind of that simple idiot. People have killed for less.”
Silence falls, but she fills it with thought. It’s fascinating how I can actually see her mind working. I can see the filing, the mental cross-examining, the grim acceptance.
“Well, what are you going to do?” she asks finally.
“It’s being done already,” I say. “I sent Vito.”
She goes very still again. “You sent Vito to what?”
“Retrieve him,” I say.
Her eyes sharpen. “Retrieve?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it,” I say.
“I am worried about it,” she says, and there’s heat in the words. “He can’t kill him, Luca.”
I flex my jaw before I answer, because the first answer isn’t the one she wants. “It’s being handled.”
“No.” She plants both feet on the floor and leans toward me. “I will not have someone killed on my behalf.”
“You won’t,” I say, and it’s almost true. “That isn’t the move today.”
“Not today?” she repeats, incredulous.
“Elena,” I say quietly. “Listen.” I lower my voice even more. “He put a hit on you. On my child. He made a call that sent men with guns after you, the baby, and Caterina. My son was shot at. There is a place for men like that in my world. Boxes, buried deep.”
She shakes her head, furious and scared. “No. We need to do this right.”
“Define right,” I say, and I’m tired already because I know the answer and I hate it.
“We report him,” she says. “OPR, the bar, the office. Let them take him apart.”
“And prove it how?” I ask. “You want me to hand them what we have and explain how we got it? They’ll throw it out on chain-of-custody issues before they read the first line.”
“We can tip it,” she fires back. “Anonymous. The same way he did. They’ll be forced to pull the logs themselves, confirm the headers, trace the token. They’ll have to take it seriously.”
I study her. She’s steadying as she speaks, knuckles still white but mind locking in. It’s the version of her that wins cases: stubborn, disciplined, principled to a fault.
“Elena…” I start.
She shakes her head. “Miles Hart is a good man, Luca. He’s diligent and stubborn. He’ll look into it, and he won’t stop until he finds it.”
“It’s a risk,” I say. “They can bury it.”
“They can try,” she says. “But it’ll come out one way or another.”
A muscle ticks in my cheek. Part of me wants a clean resolution delivered in a trunk in a river. The part that loves her wants her to be able to look at herself tomorrow. Those parts are not always friends.
“You’re asking me to trust a process that just spit you out.”
“I’m asking you to let me be who I am,” she says.
She steps closer, putting her hands on my arms and squeezing.
“You forget, sometimes, that it was my case. I know you. I know what you’ve done.
I can’t change that about you any more than you can change this about me.
I’m not asking you to become someone else.
But I will not become someone else either. ”
The words are firm, but her eyes are begging me.
I glance away, jaw set, then back at her. “Very well.” The words are slow, chosen. “We get what we need from him. And then we turn him loose to the system you trust.”
Good,” she says, a heavy breath leaving her.
“But hear me,” I add. “If they take the information and do their job, I step back. If they do nothing, I will step in again.” I hold her eyes so she hears all of it. “I mean it.”
She takes it in, weighing whether to fight me now or later. Her shoulders settle half an inch. “Fine,” she says at last. “But we try my way first.”
“Your law,” I say.
“The law,” she corrects softly.
“I don’t like it,” I say. When she stiffens, I draw her into my arms and press my forehead to hers. “But okay.”