Born into Mafia Fire

1. Evgeny

Evgeny

Sometimes I really miss being able to pull out a gun so I can shoot someone.

I’ve mastered the art of the blank face, so not even the effort of having to school my features is saving me from having to listen to the prosecution’s lame attempt at proving my client’s guilt.

What makes it really sad is that my client is guilty.

Roberto Gonzalez runs a gambling outfit on the west side of the city.

He launders money, runs a bit of drugs, and could probably buy an island with the amount of taxes he’s evaded.

Squeaky clean are not the words I’d use to describe him.

He’s so dirty that even I’m having a hard time keeping up the charade.

The truth is that it doesn’t matter. Guilty or innocent, I’ll make sure he never serves any time. It’s my job to defend the bad guys, and unfortunately for the good ones, I’m damn good at it.

“Mr. Nikitin, it’s your witness.”

Caleb, my paralegal, slides a beige file over to me without a word. I grab it and glance up at the judge. “Thank you, Your Honor.”

Standing, I slowly make my way to the witness box.

It’s not my first time cross-examining Detective Higgins in a courtroom and judging by the sour look on his face, he’s remembering every single one of those times.

His police testimony has yet to benefit the State.

I’m amazed they keep bringing him to the stand.

“Detective Higgins.” I lean an elbow against the wood railing and lift the corner of my mouth just enough to qualify as politeness. “It brings me an immense amount of joy to see you on the stand today.”

“Wish I could say the same,” he mutters while leaning back in his chair and resting his clasped hands on his sizable gut.

I ignore his comment and take out a sheet of paper from the folder I’m holding. “For the record, I’m holding Exhibit C.” I wait until the judge nods before I hold the paper out to Higgins. “Is this your statement?”

Higgins glances at the form long enough to recognize it and nods. “It is.”

Taking my time, I slip on my reading glasses and stare at the words I’ve already memorized. “And this is an accurate account of what happened?” I ask. Then to piss him off, I add, “You are under oath, Detective.”

When he looks like he wants to spit in my face, I give him a genuine smile while he says, “Yes, it’s accurate.

” He points a stubby finger at his own writing.

“Every word on that is true.” Looking past me to the jury, he says, “I wrote exactly what happened. I saw Roberto leaving his gambling club—.”

I quickly cut him off. “Alleged gambling club.”

Higgins narrows his eyes at me. “I saw him leave at 11:45 pm, and he was carrying a bag full of money.”

“You saw inside the bag?” I ask.

“When we arrested him, yeah, I saw inside the bag.” He gives another meaningful look at the jury. “It was full of money.”

I tuck my reading glasses back into the pocket of my suit and step away from the witness box.

“You saw someone who you assumed was my client. You then tailed him.” It’s my turn to glance at the jury, meeting the eyes of several ordinary citizens who would rather be doing anything other than their civic duty.

“Lost him and eventually had to go to his home where you proceeded to arrest him with no evidence.”

“I found the bag of money,” Higgins says in his own defense.

“Well, I think we can all agree that’s not a crime,” I tell him. “If he wants to have a bag of money in his house, he can. There’s no law against it.”

“I’m guessing he didn’t pay taxes on it,” Higgins says.

“He’s not on trial for tax evasion,” I remind him. Pointing to his statement, I say, “Could you please tell us what time you filed the report?”

Higgins grabs the document and reads off the time. “12:30 am.”

“And what time did you enter Mr. Gonzalez’s place of residence?”

“12:45 am.”

He doesn’t catch the error, but I hear one of the jurors let out an audible gasp and resist the urge to grin like the devil himself.

Trying to not sound too gleeful, I ask, “So you wrote the report before you entered the house? Correct me if I’m wrong, but that’s not typically how it’s done, is it? ”

I watch a red flush cover Higgins’ face as his temper flares to life. “You sleazy bastard,” he yells at me. “I just wrote the time in wrong.” His eyes dart to the jury, pleading with them for understanding. “My body cam shows what happened and the correct time it happened.”

“Your body cam,” I correct, “shows a grainy image, a lot of huffing and puffing, and a great deal of flatulence, but it does not show my client committing a crime, and it doesn’t fix the error in your report, the one that you swore under oath was indeed correct.”

I turn my attention to Judge Morris. “Your Honor, Detective Higgins has been very vocal about his vendetta against my client. He tailed him without reason, called in favors to get a search warrant, botched the report, and after that he still has zero evidence that my client did anything wrong, other than not trusting the bank with his money.” I can’t help but add, “Money that was not traced back to anything illegal.” I leave out the fact that it was only clean because my client had recently laundered it himself.

The Judge sighs, torn between knowing my client is guilty and knowing they can do fuck-all to prove it.

“No further questions, Your Honor,” I say before walking back to my seat.

As soon as I sit, Roberto leans in and says, “I knew you’d be worth every penny.”

Keeping my eyes forward, I say just loud enough for him to hear. “Stop smiling. We need them to at least think you might be innocent.”

He lets out a soft huff before sitting back and pretending to not be guilty of every single crime he’s being accused of and then some.

The next few hours consist of me poking holes in every theory they have, pointing out the errors that were made, and returning again and again to the fact that there’s not a single scrap of evidence that proves my client’s guilt.

When the jury eventually deliberates and comes back with a not-guilty verdict, I don’t feel a sense of relief, but I do feel a sense of satisfaction at winning yet another case.

I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am.

I graduated law school at the top of my class, passed the bar with a score that had all the major law firms taking an interest, and when I’d chosen the top one, I’d pushed myself past every limit I had while I proved I had what it takes to do this.

I’ve worked my way up, slowly earning a name for myself, and last year I’d made the leap and opened my own practice.

I’ve done everything I set out to do, accomplished every goal I had, all so I can be there to protect my family if they ever need me.

Being a member of the Melnikov Bratva isn’t something I can advertise, so I had to change my name and live a lie.

It hasn’t been easy, but if it keeps them safe, then it’s worth it.

Family is everything, and I’ll do whatever it takes to protect mine.

“Take this back to the office,” I tell Caleb, handing him my notes from today along with the file he’d passed me earlier. “You did good today.”

He tries to hide his smile, but I catch sight of it before he ducks his head and starts gathering everything up.

I swear I could pay him on compliments alone.

I’d first met Caleb while I was working at my previous law firm.

He’d been just as eager there, but he’d been overlooked.

Mainly because the pervy old bastards always chose the female paralegals over him.

I’d watched and I’d waited, noticing how hard he worked, how, despite his lack of a skirt, he was always the one who did a better job.

He’s hyper-focused when he starts working, loves to get lost in the details, and never makes a mistake.

I’d offered him a job as soon as I’d left, and he’d instantly accepted.

The fact that he’s a man was just a bonus for me.

The last thing I want or need is a young woman in the office, especially one that always shows up with a smile on her face and an eager I’m willing to do anything attitude.

That’s a mess I work hard to avoid. Part of living a lie means no one gets close.

My nice suits might hide my tattoos, but as soon as my shirt comes off, the evidence of who I really am is impossible to ignore.

It’s hard to form a relationship when every word out of my mouth is a lie and I can’t get naked.

“Congratulations, Ev. You managed to keep another criminal on the streets.”

I turn at the sound of the prosecutor’s voice. Meeting the other lawyer’s eyes, I say, “Maybe you missed it, Dennis, but my client was declared not guilty today.”

Dennis gives Roberto a look of disgust before turning it on me.

The obvious disdain he feels for the both of us is enough to annoy the hell out of me, but I shove the feeling down and let the corner of my mouth rise a little more.

“You’re the one who keeps calling Detective Higgins to the stand.

When are you going to learn?” I let my grin spread before I say, “Not that I’m asking you to stop. You’re making my job very easy.”

Dennis takes a step closer. He’s aiming for intimidation, but when he realizes that getting closer just highlights the five inches I have on him, he stops.

I know it must hurt what little pride he has left when he’s forced to tip his head back to look at me.

The smirk I’m still wearing probably isn’t helping.

“Your days are numbered, Ev. I’m going to fucking get you. It’s only a matter of time.”

The smirk dies on my lips while everything inside me hardens. I watch the furry mustache on his upper lip move as his mouth twitches into a scowl. When I remain quiet, he nervously breaks eye contact with me before I turn to Caleb, who’s remained close in case I need him.

“Did you hear that, Caleb? That sounded a lot like a threat to my physical well-being.”