"Legal enough." I smiled. "You're learning to ask the right questions. Most people never get that far."
"Most people aren't sleeping with their clients and compromising every ethical standard they ever had." But he smiled slightly. "What happens now? Do I just hide up here until trial?"
"For today, yes. Tomorrow we'll assess the threat level and make decisions about your security going forward." I stood and stretched. "Right now I need to meet with my investigator. You should rest. You didn't sleep much last night."
"Neither did you."
"I'm used to running on minimal sleep. You're not." I pulled him up from the couch and into my arms. "Stay here. Lock the door behind me. Marcus has men stationed in the hallway. You're completely safe."
"What about you? If the Costellos are escalating—"
"I've survived worse than the Costellos. I'll be fine." I kissed him. Slow and thorough. A promise and a claim. "Besides, I've got something worth coming back to now. That's more protection than bulletproof glass."
He held onto my shirt. "Don't do anything stupid."
"I never do anything stupid. Risky, yes. Calculated, always. But never stupid." I pulled away before I could get distracted by how good he felt in my arms. "I'll be back in a few hours. Call me if you need anything."
"Sandro?" He caught my hand as I turned to leave. "Thank you. For this. For protecting me even though it's complicating your life."
"You're not a complication. You're a priority." I squeezed his hand. "Get used to it."
I left him standing in my apartment looking simultaneously grateful and terrified. Good. He should be terrified. He'd just crossed a line he couldn't uncross. Accepted my protection. Accepted what that meant.
Accepted me.
By the time I reached the warehouse where Vincent was waiting with Angelo Moretti, I'd made seventeen calls and sent thirty-two texts. Mobilized resources. Gathered information. Built a strategy that would ensure this never happened again.
The warehouse was in Red Hook. Industrial. Abandoned. Perfect for conversations that needed to stay private.
Vincent met me at the entrance. "He's inside. Hasn't said anything useful yet but he's scared. Once he sees you, he'll talk."
"How confident are you that he's working alone?"
"Zero percent. This feels coordinated. Someone higher up gave orders. Angelo's just the delivery boy." Vincent handed me a file. "Background check. He's got a girlfriend. A mother in assisted living. A gambling problem. All the usual pressure points."
I reviewed the information quickly. Angelo Moretti. Twenty-eight years old. Barely making ends meet doing enforcement work for the Costellos. Desperate enough to take stupid jobs. Stupid enough to threaten my attorney.
"Let's have a conversation," I said.
Inside, Angelo was zip-tied to a chair. Young. Scared. Trying to look tough and failing completely.
"Mr. Vitale," he started when I walked in. "Look, I was just doing what I was told. It wasn't personal. I didn't even know who the guy was until—"
"Stop talking." I pulled up a chair and sat across from him. Close enough to be intimidating but not close enough to seem aggressive. "I'm going to ask you questions. You're going to answer them honestly. If you lie to me, Vincent here willknow. And then things will become very unpleasant for you. Understand?"
He nodded frantically.
"Good. Who ordered you to deliver the threat letter to Emilio Rossi's apartment?"
"I—I can't say. They'll kill me."
"I'll kill you if you don't. So you've got a choice about which death you prefer." I kept my voice conversational. Like we were discussing dinner plans instead of his mortality. "Quick and clean if you cooperate. Slow and painful if you don't. Your call."
He broke. Of course he did. They always did when you presented the options clearly enough.
"Costello. The nephew. The one who got his arm broken at your club." Angelo was talking fast now, words tumbling over each other. "He's the one who ordered it. Said to scare the lawyer off. Make him drop the case. He gave me the address, told me what to write, paid me five grand to deliver it."
"And the package at Sterling & Associates?"
