Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1) by Vivi Paige (learn to read activity book TXT) 📕

was used to killers. They were my bread and butter, but this one had control over me and that was a whole different story. I needed to play this smart and slow. Not just my career, but my life, could hang in the balance.

He took a long look between my knees and then broke into a shit-eating grin. “Nice,” he declared. “Now, listen carefully. You’re going to take my case. You’re going to win it and you’re going to do it with a smile or this little felony I found will get hand-delivered to the DA with your careless little fingerprints all over it, capisce?”

I let my answer hang in silence for a beat, but I knew he had won this round. I had no choice but to take his case. And he knew it. Damn that SIM card! I would figure out how to get out of this once I got him out of my office. For now, I had to play along.

“Fine,” I said, putting my shiny red Blahnik pump between his thighs and sliding the chair to the wall. “I’m your lawyer.” I stood up in the tiny space I had made between him and my desk, staring down his wicked grin. “Now get out of my chair and hand me your case file.”

He did and it was worse than I thought. No wonder he was desperate to get me. His defense was a tiny thread of demented fantasy. Stack that up against a priest. A fucking priest!!! And another tasty tidbit—the victim was a known informant.

Indro was young, but he already had a little rap sheet. This would be a walk in the park for the DA. I could already see those assholes sharpening their knives for me. I hate losing, but I especially hate losing to the machine. There was no better defense attorney in all of Chicago, but even I couldn’t make a Catholic priest disappear into thin air. Even if I could, that would only make Indro look guiltier.

I looked over at him pacing in front of my office door. The armor of toughness had slipped a little and I could see. He wasn’t just worried about going to jail. He was a liability now, and if I couldn’t get him off, the family would ice him.

The air in the room got a little thinner. I stared hard, taking him in. A brown curl had fallen over his left eye and, for a moment, he was just a dumb goomba in real big trouble. Trouble can make a man stupid and careless. I was going to find a way to get that SIM card back and kick this liability to the curb. Until then, I had to start winning his case. Both of our lives depended on it.

Chapter Eight

Indro

“Indro,” a voice growled as I stepped out of the law office. “What a coincidence, running into you here.”

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked to my left and then to my right. Standing there, like a couple of modern Colossuses of Rhodes, were the Maloik enforcers: brothers Guido and Nunzio.

To say that they were huge would be underselling it. Twins, who had come out at birth practically that size (no kidding, I heard their mother was in the hospital another few weeks recovering from it), they were infamous for being utterly brutal.

“Ah, hey fellas,” I said, trying not to let the sudden onset of anxiety make my voice shake. “What’s the rumpus?”

“We been sent for ya,” one of them said. I think it was Guido. He had a scar over his left eye that was fairly prominent. And he got it from a fist fight with his brother. So. There you go.

“Sent by whom?” I asked innocently.

“Funny. He’s funny, ain’t he, Nunzio?”

Nunzio issued a grunt in response. I couldn’t tell if it was a laugh or a dismissal or an indication that it was feeding time.

“You know who’s called upon us, Indo. The Don wants to see yas. So, like, don’t be cute, okay?”

“Not like he can help it, Guids,” Nunzio said, barely opening his mouth. “Such a pretty face he’s got an’ all.”

“That’s right. Pretty face. And we don’t wanna do nothin’ that’s gonna mess that pretty face up. Do we, Nunz?”

Nunzio shook his head.

“No. We don’t. We surely do not.”

I slowly lifted my hands, so they could see I wasn’t carrying anything.

“No troubles, fellas. I’m happy to see the Don. It’ll be a pleasure as always.”

“That’s the spirit,” Guido said. “Good man.”

He clapped me on the back, so hard he almost knocked me over. The brothers laughed then, an ugly sound, and led me over to their car, a gold Cadillac. Subtle it wasn’t.

They shoved me in the backseat and then climbed in on either side of me, crushing me in the middle.

“Let’s move,” Nunzio said to the driver, who didn’t turn around, simply nodded, and off we went.

The brothers were so big that just their size was enough to put pressure on my shoulders from either side, without them doing anything. They smelled like cheap cigarettes and Old Spice. The odor, along with not being able to move, made me worry I was going to get car sick.

Well, that’ll show them, I thought to myself.

I took some slow, deep breaths and closed my eyes, praying that the car ride wouldn’t be too long.

After a couple of minutes, that one small prayer was answered at least. We stopped in front of the Alto Café, a quiet little coffee shop that was favored by Don Maloik and his crew. The brothers opened the doors to the Caddy and stepped out. It was like fresh air was swirling in to fill in the vacuum left by them.

I sat for a second, letting my rib cage expand back to its normal size, taking in the air that came not a moment too soon.

“Let’s go, Indro. Don’t make me yank your dumb ass outta that backseat,” Guido said.

“I’m coming. Just taking account of myself