Chapter 18 Sandro
DIANA MARTINEZ WAS competent. Professional. Experienced in criminal defense with an impressive track record of victories. She'd been practicing for fifteen years, knew the judges, understood the system.
She was also completely boring.
I sat in her office listening to her outline trial strategy and wanted to throw something.
Not because she was wrong—her approach was solid, defensible, exactly what any reasonable attorney would recommend.
But because it lacked the fire, the brilliance, the sharp-edged fury that Emilio brought to every argument.
"The prosecution's timeline doesn't hold up under scrutiny," Diana said, pointing to her notes. "We can establish reasonable doubt by showing the inconsistencies in witness testimony."
"Emilio already identified seventeen specific contradictions in their statements," I said before I could stop myself. "Cross-referenced with security footage timestamps and physical evidence. He built a matrix showing exactly where each witness's story falls apart."
Diana looked up. "That's good work. Do you have his notes?"
"He sent them over when he withdrew from the case." I pulled up the files on my phone. Emilio's meticulous preparation. Hundreds of hours of work distilled into brilliant strategy. "He also suggested we depose the Costello family accountant. There's evidence they paid the witnesses to lie."
"That's aggressive. But it could work." She made notes. "Your previous counsel was very thorough."
"My previous counsel was extraordinary." I pocketed my phone. "But he's not my counsel anymore. So we work with what we have."
The dismissal was clear. Diana accepted it gracefully and moved on to discussing jury selection. I listened with half my attention while the other half cataloged everything she wasn't doing that Emilio would have.
Emilio would have challenged my assumptions. Would have argued with me about strategy until we'd refined it to perfection. Would have brought passion and ethics and genuine belief in the arguments he was making.
Diana brought competence and professional distance. Important qualities. Just not the ones I'd gotten addicted to.
After the meeting, I returned to Inferno and found my partners waiting in the VIP room. Matteo looked agitated. Elio looked concerned. Luca looked amused by whatever drama was unfolding.
"We have confirmation," Elio said without preamble. "Vincent Paglia is definitely the embezzler. He's been funneling money to the Costello family for eight months. Fifty thousand initially. The amounts have increased recently."
I sat down heavily. Vincent had been with us for years. Handled all our financial records. Had access to everything. The betrayal cut deep.
"How much total?" I asked.
"Approximately two hundred thousand over eight months. Small enough to avoid immediate detection. Large enough to be worth his while." Elio slid a folder across the table. "Bank records show deposits to an offshore account. Traced back to Costello shell companies."
"He's been selling us out the whole time," Matteo said. His hands were clenched into fists. "Giving them our financial information. Our business structures. Everything they needed to build their case against us."
"What's he getting in exchange?" Luca asked.
"Protection after retirement. The Costellos promised to take care of him once he's too old to work." Elio's expression was cold. "He's sixty-two. He was planning to retire in three years with Costello money and our secrets."
The room went quiet. We all understood what this meant. Vincent had betrayed us thoroughly. Systematically. For money and false promises from people who'd kill him the moment he stopped being useful.
"I'll handle him," Matteo said. Simple. Direct. His usual solution to betrayal.
"No." I kept my voice level. "We're not killing him."
"He stole from us. Gave our enemies ammunition to destroy us. That requires permanent handling." Matteo leaned forward. "Unless you've gone completely soft since Emilio—"
"Watch yourself." The warning in my tone stopped him cold. "This has nothing to do with Emilio. This is about making smart choices instead of emotional ones."
"Smart is eliminating threats before they testify against us," Matteo argued.
"Smart is not creating murder charges on top of everything else we're dealing with." I looked at Elio. "What do the feds have on Vincent?"
"Nothing concrete. They suspect he's been cooperating but they can't prove it.
If we turn him over, they might give us consideration during sentencing if the RICO charges stick.
" Elio pulled out more documents. "We could make a deal.
Vincent's testimony against the Costellos in exchange for leniency for us. "
"Absolutely not." I stood and poured myself a drink. "We're not cooperating with the FBI. That makes us informants. That destroys our reputation more thoroughly than anything the Costellos could do."
"Then what do you suggest?" Luca asked.
I thought about Emilio. About mercy and second chances. About choosing to be better than what circumstances demanded.
"I'm going to talk to Vincent. Show him the evidence. Give him a choice." I turned back to face them. "He leaves the city. Disappears. Never comes back. We don't turn him over to the feds. We don't kill him. We just make him gone."
"That's too soft," Matteo protested. "He'll just set up somewhere else and do the same thing."
"He'll run scared for the rest of his life knowing that if he ever surfaces, we'll find him." I met each of their eyes. "This is how we're handling it. Vincent gets mercy this once. If he's smart, he'll take it and disappear. If he's not, then Matteo can have him."
Matteo didn't look satisfied but he nodded. Elio looked thoughtful. Luca just smiled like he'd expected this outcome.
"When did you get so merciful?" Luca asked.
"When I started trying to be someone worth the faith Emilio has in me." I finished my drink. "Bring Vincent here. Tonight. I'll handle the conversation."
Vincent arrived at 9 PM looking nervous. He'd probably suspected something was wrong when my security showed up at his apartment with a polite but firm invitation to meet with me.
I was waiting in my office. Alone. No Matteo to intimidate. No Elio to analyze. Just me and the man who'd betrayed us.
"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair across from my desk.
He sat. His hands shook slightly.
I spread out the evidence Elio had compiled. Bank statements. Wire transfers. Communications with Costello intermediaries. Eight months of systematic theft and betrayal documented in neat columns.
"Want to explain this?" I asked quietly.
Vincent looked at the papers. Went pale. "I can—"
"Don't insult me with lies. We know everything. You've been stealing from us and feeding information to the Costellos. The only question is why."
He was quiet for a long moment. Then: "They promised me protection. A retirement package. Said after I was done working for you, they'd take care of me."
"And you believed them?"
"I didn't have a choice. My wife has medical bills. Cancer treatment. We're drowning in debt. The Costellos offered to help if I provided information." His voice cracked. "I'm sorry. I never wanted to betray you. But my wife—"
"Your wife's treatment is covered by our health insurance. We've been paying her medical bills for two years." I leaned forward. "You didn't betray us for your wife. You betrayed us for extra money. For retirement comfort. For greed."
He couldn't meet my eyes.
"Here's what's going to happen," I said. "You're fired. Effective immediately. You have twenty-four hours to leave New York. I don't care where you go. Just go far and never come back."
"What about my wife's treatment?"
"I'll make sure her medical care continues through the end of her treatment cycle. After that, you're on your own." I stood. "This is mercy, Vincent. This is me choosing not to let Matteo handle you the way he wants to. Don't make me regret it."
"The Costellos—they'll come after me if I run. They'll think I'm cooperating with you."
"That's your problem. You chose to get in bed with them. Now you deal with the consequences." I walked to the door. "Twenty-four hours. If you're still in the city after that, Matteo's instructions are to handle you permanently. Understood?"
"Understood." He stood on shaking legs. "Thank you. For not—"
"Don't thank me. Just disappear."
I had security escort him out. Watched from my window as he got into his car and drove away. Probably going straight home to pack. If he was smart, he'd be on a plane by morning.
I pulled out my phone and called Emilio.
He answered on the second ring. "Everything okay?"
"The embezzlement's resolved. Vincent Paglia was the one stealing. He's been funneling money to the Costellos." I kept my voice neutral. "I handled it."
Silence. Then: "How did you handle it?"
"Fired him. Gave him twenty-four hours to leave the city. Told him if he ever comes back, there'll be consequences." I paused. "I didn't hurt him, Emilio. I let him go with a warning."
More silence. Long enough that I thought the call might have dropped. Then Emilio's voice, quiet and warm: "I'm proud of you."
The words hit harder than they should have. "For what? Not killing someone who betrayed me?"
"For choosing mercy when violence would've been easier. For being better than what the situation required." I heard movement on his end. "Where are you?"
"My office at Inferno."
"I'm coming over. We should celebrate you making good choices."
"Celebrate how?"
"However you want. I'm open to suggestions." His voice dropped. Got darker. "Preferably suggestions that involve your bed and several hours of privacy."
Heat pooled in my stomach. "I can arrange that."
"Good. I'll be there in thirty minutes."