The Good Boss, Page 2

  “Not those footsteps. I like it that he trusts you enough to put you in charge. I meant following him to prison. I don’t want that to happen. All I’m asking you to do is be careful. I know you will be.” I offered a smile of reassurance. “I just need to say it. So, be careful. And know that I support you. I do. I don’t want to know what it is that you do, but whatever it is, know I’ll support you. Now and always.”

  It felt good to say it, but allowing the statement to become reality wasn’t going to be easy. Something was going on with the business, and it was easy to see. Michelle’s father had been missing for six weeks, there were two dead government agents that I knew of, and my father was in jail waiting to go on trial for murder.

  Accepting that Michael was the man in charge wasn’t easy, but I needed to do my best to do so, regardless.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” he said. “Believe me.”

  Bullshit.

  According to my mother, it was the job of an understanding Italian wife to smile and say “thank you,” so that’s what I was going to do. I knew he was only saying, “There’s nothing to worry about,” so I wouldn’t worry, but I was going to worry no matter what.

  I turned my palms up and forced a big grin. “Thank you.”

  “Did you get the menus printed?” he asked.

  I gazed down at the floor. “Not yet.”

  “What about the cake?” he asked. “Did you sample the cake and make a decision?”

  All the wedding planning had been set aside after they arrested my father. I was embarrassed by what I hadn’t done.

  I looked up. “No, not yet.”

  “You’ve got plenty to worry about without worrying about me. I’ll be just fine.” He stood. “You take care of the wedding, and I’ll take care of the business. How’s that?”

  I smiled an honest smile and then stood. “Sounds good to me.”

  He walked around the edge of the desk and spread his arms wide. “Come here.”

  Michael was amazing. He had the ability to make me feel better without much effort at all. Whether he wanted to acknowledge that I was going to support him or not, at least I knew that I told him I would, and that he heard me.

  For him to verbally accept my statement would be to admit his involvement, and he wasn’t going to do that any more than my father would.

  We embraced in a hug.

  Being in his arms made all my thoughts regarding the ATF, Michelle’s father, and even of my own father disappear. It may have only lasted for the short time that we stood there beside the desk, but for that moment, my mind was clear of worry.

  And I clung to that feeling of cleanliness like my life depended on it.

  Chapter Three

  Michael

  Anthony’s attorney, Al, and I sat in the meeting room waiting for Anthony. Despite the grim news from the government’s lawyer that they were going to go to great lengths to charge him under the RICO Act for organizing the murders of two ATF agents in the furtherance of a crime, his spirits seemed quite elevated when he walked into the room.

  With his chest jutted out and his head held high, he shuffled into the room wearing an ear-to-ear grin. After removing the leg chains and securing one of Anthony’s arms to the table, the US marshal who escorted him left the room.

  I slid the cup of espresso across the table. “Have a drink.”

  He nodded at Al, and then met my gaze as he took a drink. “They have no informant, and they have no rat. All they have is teeth.”

  I grinned. “News travels fast.”

  “You can buy anything in here.” He shrugged. “The information is cheap.”

  “That’s where all the money’s going that I’m spending on the streets?”

  “Keeping me informed.”

  “It’s dipping into the profits,” I said with a laugh. “Otherwise, things are going well.”

  His expression went serious. He took another drink and then looked at me. “I heard you raised the tax.”

  “I raised it two percent. Hell, a sandwich franchise charges five percent,” I said flatly. “Seven is a bargain, especially considering how overworked the police are, and how long a response takes for a burglary.”

  His face remained solemn. “No complaints?”

  “A few of Little Frank’s pickups complained, but after I paid them a visit, they accepted it as a bargain.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “In my experience, taking without reason is never received well. So, I gave them an explanation for the increase. I told them the increase in tax allowed me to cut the alcohol and cigarette prices for purchases over five grand by five percent. The discounted prices give the taxed an incentive to buy. So far, it’s worked. Income increased by thirty-two percent following the increase in taxes. We give a little, and we take a lot. They see it as a bargain.”

  He grinned. “A thirty-two percent increase in revenue?”

  “It’ll probably taper off, and end up at fifteen percent. At least that’s my projection,” I said. “We’ll see where it ends up.”

  He reached over the table and gripped my hand. “You make me proud.”

  I’d yearned for a lifetime to hear those four words. Pride filled me, almost choking me from responding. I swallowed the lump in my throat and struggled to hide my pleasure.

  “I’m just doing my job,” I said.

  He looked at Al. “Their case is still strong?”

  “No change there. They have evidence, and you have no reason for being in possession of it.”

  I’d seen Anthony’s I-don’t-give-a-fuck-what-happens-to-me attitude change over the last few weeks. He seemed far more interested in freeing himself than he had following his arrest. My guess was that the time he’d spent in jail was enough of an incentive to cause him to realize it wasn’t somewhere he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

  “We’re going to pick their case apart,” I assured him. “Every word, every piece of evidence. Every statement. Everything.”

  “I’ll hope for the best, and prepare for the worst.” He smiled, but it seemed forced. “How’s the wedding coming along?” My heart sank. The once-in-a-lifetime event had been placed on the back burner. Terra had little desire to have the wedding while her father was in jail. She reserved hope that a miracle would take place, and her father would be freed before June. Thinking about it made me uncomfortable, but I wanted to move forward nonetheless.

  “Slow,” I said. “Terra doesn’t want to proceed without you.”

  “If she waits for me, you’ll never be married.” He wrung his hands nervously. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Al opened his planner and quickly scanned through his notes. “Our motion for discovery has produced very little so far, but I’m sure they’ll inundate us with a few bank boxes of paperwork in a matter of days. And, just so you know, I do not believe they’re aware of the missing informants. Not yet. As soon as they’re privy, we’ll know. They’ll probably infer that you were instrumental with the disappearances, and attempt to use it as leverage in negotiations.”

  “I won’t negotiate,” Anthony said adamantly.

  Al raised his index finger. “Nor will I.”

  “I’m glad you two agree on that matter,” I said.

  He looked at me. “What did you learn from the informant?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. His only contacts were Gino, Whistler, and another fed named Black. He discussed the case with no one else. They threatened if he did, he’d lose his deal.”

  He nodded and then took a sip of the espresso. “You believed him?”

  “I did.”

  I considered telling Anthony about discovering Gino’s desire to become the boss, and how it had driven him to do what he’d done, but struggled with whether the knowl
edge would be beneficial to him in any way.

  I decided it would only cause more harm to an already damaged relationship.

  He raised his cup as if pleased with the finding. “So, the teeth are all they have.”

  “I’m looking into what it would take to get them in my hands, but I doubt that would be an easy task,” I said. “But I’m looking nonetheless.”

  He looked at Al and raised both eyebrows.

  “They typically keep them in a holding area, sometimes going as far as keeping them in a safe,” Al said. “In accordance with the federal rules of evidence, they must maintain a chain of evidence, which requires that they keep evidence in a secure area.”

  “If their system’s penetrable, I’ll find a way in,” I said.

  Anthony took another drink of his coffee, and set the cup aside. He alternated glances between Al and me. “I don’t want my son-in-law as a cell mate. Leave the teeth where they are. Get their evidence and find a way to discredit whatever it is that they have.”

  Al nodded. “That’s my plan.”

  “I have a real tough time not at least trying to get in there, and get them,” I said. “I’ll see if I can find out—”

  Anthony shook his head. “Leave the teeth. There’s too much risk.”

  “It might be simple,” I said.

  “It never is,” he responded.

  As much as I hated to admit it, I was afraid he was right.

  Chapter Four

  Terra

  We sat in the bar and talked like everything was fine, but it wasn’t, and I soon realized it. Finding a way to dismiss Michelle’s father as simply being missing wasn’t something that I was able to do without feeling like I was lying to myself.

  “So, Cap and my mother are like best friends,” she said without an ounce of emotion. “I think maybe she looks at him as a replacement for my father, or something.”

  Her comment caught me off guard. I looked up from picking at the label of my beer bottle. “What do you mean?”

  “She had him fix the back door, which has been fucked up since we were in high school, and then the other day, he volunteered to clean the guttering. I think she must have been hinting that she wanted it done or something. Who volunteers for something like that?”

  Fearing the conversation was going to go to her father, I went back to digging at the label. “I don’t know. Nobody?”

  “That’s right, nobody. But he spent half a day on Saturday cleaning all the leaves out of it. It was sunny and nice outside, so it wasn’t like it was cold or anything.” She smiled. “I thought it was sweet.”

  “That was sweet.” I looked up and met her gaze. “I like Cap.”

  “Everyone likes Cap. He’s like a big teddy bear. I seriously doubt that the guy could hurt a fly.”

  There was no doubt in my mind that he could. He was a combat-experienced Marine, just like Michael. “I bet he could if he had to.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

  “I just—I mean, he’s a Marine. Or, he was. He could hurt people if he needed to. But I’m like you. I think he’s sweet.”

  She shot me a playful glare. “He is sweet.”

  “So...” I paused, realizing that I almost asked her about her father, and caught myself before I made the mistake. As I mentally stumbled with how to continue, she interrupted my train of thought.

  “What?” She finished her drink. “Were you going to ask about my dad?”

  Hiding my thoughts wasn’t going to be easy. Her father’s absence was on the forefront of my thoughts, and I knew it had to be on hers. Discussing the matter wasn’t something I was prepared to do, regardless of my unintended slip up. “I um—”

  “It’s okay.” She waved at the waitress. “I think he got whacked.”

  The thought of my father’s involvement in such an act, especially with Michelle’s father, made me cringe. My days of burying my head in the sand were over, but wrapping my arms around murdering my best friend’s father wasn’t going to come easy.

  “Michelle!” I snapped back. “Stop it.”

  After getting the attention of the waitress, she met my glare.

  “I do. We had his phone checked. It’s nowhere to be found. The phone company did a trace on it, and it’s nowhere. So, someone took the battery out and probably smashed it or took the SIM card out or whatever they do. And, it hasn’t been used since the day he called Mom, and that call was his last call.”

  My mind reeled as I digested her revelation. There had to be an explanation, but obtaining it from me wasn’t going to come easily.

  She shrugged, tried to take another drink from her non-existent vodka cranberry, and then shrugged. “No texts since, no calls since. He bought a bus ticket with his credit card, but we don’t know if he actually got on the bus. His car was at the bus station, but I don’t know. Who takes a bus? Looks like a mob hit to me.”

  She seemed like she’d truly considered all the things she’d mentioned, believed what she was saying, and had somehow found a way to accept the horrid outcome. The thought of it being true sickened me.

  “I don’t believe that.” I pressed my tongue against the roof of my mouth, swallowed heavily, and shook my head. “Not for a minute.”

  “He was shady. He always had something going on. We’d find money all the time, and I know he wasn’t supposed to have it. Not like he did.” She rolled her eyes, and then looked right at me. “He had cash. Lots of it. All the time.”

  I began to wonder. The more she revealed, the more convinced I became. Admitting it out loud, however, wouldn’t be healthy for either of us. “That doesn’t mean—”

  “It means he was doing shady shit, Terra. My bet is he got whacked. I’m not saying your dad was involved, but I bet whoever he was dicking over got to him,” she said dryly.

  The waitress stepped to the table. I sat with my jaw in my lap as Michelle looked up at the waitress as if nothing was going on.

  “Another round?” the waitress asked.

  “Bring me two.” She lifted her glass. “Are they always this small?”

  The waitress grinned. “It’s a single. Do you want a double tall?”

  “Whatever,” Michelle said. “I want something with some alcohol in it. Sure, double tall. Bring me two of them.”

  She looked at me. “Another beer?”

  I tried to smile. “Sure.”

  After the waitress walked away, I leaned on the edge of the table and widened my eyes. “Just because he had cash doesn’t mean he was doing shady shit.”

  She glanced over each shoulder, and then met my stare. “We found two hundred grand in Mom’s bedroom, and it wasn’t even in the safe. It was under the bed.” She cocked an eyebrow. “In a cardboard box. Who keeps legit money under the bed in a box?”

  “What?!” I screeched. My eyes shot wide. Michelle was right. It sounded shady.

  “It gets worse,” she said. “There was like, I don’t know, another two hundred grand in the safe. And it wasn’t like their account was dry, either. And the money wasn’t hundreds or even fifties. It was fives, tens, and twenties, all banded together in stacks. Same as the stuff under the bed. It was just random bills.”

  I wanted to dismiss it as some odd business venture, but I seriously doubted that was the case. Her father didn’t have a job, and what work he did, he did for my father. My mind started reeling at the thought of his disappearance, my father’s incarceration, and Michael’s stepping up to the position of boss.

  “Terra... Terra... Terra!”

  I looked up. “What?”

  “You were just sitting there slobbering.” She arched an eyebrow. “What do you think now?”

  “I don’t... I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like he was doing shady shit, hu
h?”

  I wanted to say no, but was afraid it would look like a lie. “Um. I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?” She laughed. “He had half a million in small bills. That’s shady.”

  Although she seemed to have already accepted that he’d been whacked by someone for his wrongdoings, I felt the need to offer a glimmer of hope.

  “That doesn’t mean he got whacked,” I whispered. “He’s probably just trying to figure things out.”

  “He left all the money at home, Terra.” She raised both eyebrows and looked right at me. “All of it. And other than buying a bus ticket, he hasn’t used any of his credit cards. No phone calls, emails, texts, nothing.”

  In the world I lived in, I hated to think that her father’s death was even an option, but her facts were pretty convincing. Accepting the Mafia’s actions, if things like killing their own was commonplace, wasn’t going to be as easy as I thought.

  But, I had to believe if that’s what happened, there had to be a story behind it. One that would support such an act.

  I just couldn’t think of what that might be.

  Chapter Five

  Michael

  I hated to think that Anthony would remain in prison for the rest of his life, but the government’s evidence against him was pretty damning. With the teeth of two ATF agents found in his safe at home, and two hundred pounds of documents to support that there was an ongoing investigation on him at the time they were murdered, I had my doubts that any attorney could save him from a conviction.

  My options for freeing him were limited to bribing officials, threatening the jury, or getting the teeth from the evidence room. None of the choices seemed realistic outside the script of a Hollywood action movie.

  “Is that a lot?” Terra asked, pointing to the three boxes. “I mean in comparison to most trials? Or investigations? Or whatever?”

  I peered over the desk and tried to offer a reassuring smile. She looked defeated. I shifted my eyes to the three cardboard boxes Al delivered. According to him, when the government provided evidence requested in discovery, they typically provided everything, most of which was useless. Within the limits of the worthless information, they would hide a hundred documents or so that may be of importance.