11. CHAPTER SEVEN
Eight Hours Earlier:
Daniel Vance, the Fraud and Corruption Director in the Las Vegas D.A.’s office, politely listens to my argument why my brother’s case should be dismissed.
“Your investigators are slipping. The Las Vegas Cosa Nostra hired hitmen to kill my other brother in Seattle.” I pull out a printed photo of the dead hitman found on Darragh’s kitchen floor. “I can only email you this guy’s prints because someone blew his face off.”
My gaze drifts to Cormac standing next to me. He’s that someone, but I keep that to myself.
“Why is this my problem?” Vance leans back in his chair. “Why does this give you leverage against my case?”
I glance around. “Do you want it getting out that murderers are crawling all over your precious city? I think that would hurt tourism. And your boss’s chance in next year’s governor’s race. I heard you want his job.”
Vance’s upper lip curls. “Six months in county lock up.”
I laugh. “I don’t think you understand. My brother isn’t going to jail. He’s going someplace worse.” I stand up and slam my hand on Vance’s desk. “We punish our own worse than you ever can. He won’t be any more trouble to you.”
“And Ana Michaels? You want her case dismissed, too?”
Cormac stiffens next to me, heeding my hand signal to keep his fucking mouth shut.
Hardening my gaze, I say to Vance, “Unless you want female voters to know that she was held against her will in a motel for months while she was pregnant and not one goddamn police officer or social worker helped her.”
Vance’s feet fly off the desk, knocking a framed photo to the carpet. “She was held against her will by your brother!” He points to Cormac.
“Irrelevant. You didn’t charge him with that.” I narrow my eyes at Vance, who stands a full head shorter than me.
“She refused to submit testimony to warrant the charges.”
Exhaling and wanting to strangle Cormac myself, I say, “If you don’t—”
“Are you threatening me?”
“Just laying out my position.” I shove my hands into my pockets.
I have the means to get my brother out of the country, but I can’t have a bounty on his head for the rest of his life.
Vance takes a breath and looks like he’s ready to throw me out when his phone rings. Ignoring me, he picks it up and his head falls into his hands.
Being director of the Fraud and Corruption Unit in Las Vegas means he’s up to his eyeballs in bad actors. All the more reason to dismiss Cormac and Ana’s cases. Why the fuck doesn’t he see that?
I shake my arms to get loose, because I’m about to get vocal on this asshole and grab his fat neck.
Vance hangs up the phone. “I’ll make you a deal, O’Rourke.”
“I don’t make deals.” I fold my arms and tighten my jaw to signal he’s on thin ice.
“I’ll make sure my prosecutor dismisses the case against your brother here.” Vance barely acknowledges Cormac’s presence standing right next to me.
His eyes feast on me, and I’m about to find out why as I wait for the punchline…
“Spit it the fuck out, Vance.”
“You seem to know a lot about my Cosa Nostra problem.”
“And I don’t want it to become my Cosa Nostra problem.”
Today’s peace can always erupt into tomorrow’s war.
“And since you’re engaged in the same business as them, I—”
“I don’t hire hitmen to kill a family and abduct women, Vance.”
“I have a case that’s lost for lack of a better word. Money laundering.”
“And?”
He smirks. “You have a nice little operation in Astoria, don’t you?”
Little? We’re fucking billionaires. “Go on.”
“I’m sure you don’t want ATF sniffing around.” Vance sits down. “You’re good, O’Rourke. But it’s just you advising your family. You’re a one-man-band.”
Not really, I have a few junior attorneys working for me and a handful of paralegals who keep all our properties and holdings legal.
My brother, Lachlan, kills the real threats. Literally.
Since our competitors are all businessmen on the outside, I dig into the law and find ways to manipulate our deals. I also manage our finances because I don’t trust anyone with our money.
And…a large part of my finance operation is money laundering.
I guess Vance knew that.
Fuck.
“What do you need?” I inwardly groan with a subtle sneer directed at Cormac.
To his credit, he listened to my threat before we got here, and kept his fucking mouth shut.
“Since you seem to have a beef with the Borgias over that incident in Seattle, this might be of interest to you.” He leans back in his chair, grimacing, like his belt is straining his gut. “The statute of limitations on my case against them closes in forty-five days. Their lawyers are killing us in motions, evidentiary hearings, and other delays.”
Hearing what his Borgia case is related to, my stomach turns. Until my interest piques. Survival is always the stronger drive.
Not that I’d ever let a New York prosecutor indict us, but I’m interested to get a glimpse of the Borgias’ legal strategies.
“If you filed the charges, why do the limitations still stand?”
“Damn casino-owner lobbyists got the law changed a few years ago.”
“Let the case drop.” I shrug. “Don’t you have years of backlog for other crimes? Like domestic violence?”
“And reward bad behavior?” Vance shakes his head. “I need to get ahead of these damn motions. Cut their attorneys off at the knees so I can bring this shit case to trial. I want you on this case.”
A shudder rattles up my spine. Cormac exchanges a look with me. I clench my fists, wanting to smash his face for getting me into this mess. Through gritted teeth, I snarl, “If it gets out, I’m working with you—”
“It can be in secret,” Vance quickly offers. “I’ll have an associate bring you the case files. You look at everything and write the briefs. Write the motions. The writs, whatever. I’ll sign my name to them.”
“Take the credit for my work?”
“That keeps your name out of it.”
I pinch my eyebrows together. “That’s illegal.”
“Growing a conscience, O’Rourke?”
“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
“In you or the Cosa Nostra?”
“Both.”
“They traffic women.” He slams his fist down. “They break my laws. Do you think I give a fuck?”
My head swims, and I consider how the hell I’ll explain this to Kieran and our underboss, Riordan. I worry they’ll deliver a harsher punishment to Cormac for tangling me up here in Sin City when I’m supposed to be home at my brother’s side where he needs me.
“Help me, and I’ll help your little brother over there.” Vance lounges back in his seat.
I scoff again at his use of little. Cormac stands over six feet tall. He’s also thirty-two. I’m a few inches taller and thirty-five.
I dare Vance, the fucker, to call me little.
“And if I don’t?”
“Your brother is going to jail.”
If my family didn’t have the blood of a Cosa Nostra hitman on our hands, I could go to Nico Scava, the Borgia don, right now and ask him for help getting this piece of shit director fitted for cement shoes.
I pull a long breath into my lungs. “I’ll work with you. Email me the files.”
Daniel barks a laugh. “I hear your other brother is a world-class hacker. No. I’m only giving you paper files. And you’ll be…supervised.”
My stomach twists. “Supervised?”
“Yes, I know just the deputy who you’ll work with. A real eager…beaver.” He winks and reaches for his phone. “This meeting is over. Your brother’s case goes in front of the judge in an hour.”
This asshole has no hold over me. “Sure,” I say, lying.
Once Cormac is free, and I clean up his loose ends, I’m fucking out of here.