Page 77 of The Assassin's Captive
"All of them. You can't prosecute the people you'll now be expected to defend."
She's quiet for a long moment, processing the full scope of what she's giving up. The career she built, the reputation she earned, the sense of purpose that drove her to law school in the first place. It's not a small sacrifice.
"The work I'll do for the family," she says finally. "Will it be legitimate defense work?"
I choose my words carefully. "You'll be expected to provide the best possible legal representation within the bounds of professional ethics. Emilio values your reputation for integrity. He won't ask you to compromise it in ways that could expose the family to greater scrutiny."
"That's not really an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give you." I lean back in my chair. "The situations you'll face won't always have clean solutions. You'll need to find ways to serve your clients' interests while maintaining your professional standing."
She understands what I'm not saying. Gray areas. Ethical flexibility. The kind of moral compromises that come with defending people who operate outside the law.
"And you? What changes for you?"
"Nothing. Everything." I drain my wine glass and set it down carefully. "I'll still take orders from Emilio, but now those orders will center around your protection. I'll still handle problems that require permanent solutions, but I'll need to consider how those solutions affect your safety and reputation."
A knock at the front door interrupts the conversation. Three sharp raps, then a pause. Not Emilio's signal, not Victor's, not anyone from the family. I'm on my feet before the sound fades, hand moving instinctively toward the gun under my jacket.
"Stay here," I tell Serena.
She nods, understanding immediately that the warm bubble of safety we've created tonight has just been punctured.
I approach the front door carefully, checking the security monitor first. The screen shows a man in his fifties, gray hair dampened by rain, wearing a cheap suit and the kind of shoes that come from government salaries. Detective Silvano Petrini, my neighbor from three houses down. The retired cop who likesto play nosy neighbor as if he himself is the sole member of the neighborhood watch committee.
I unlock the door but leave the security chain engaged, opening it just wide enough to see his face clearly.
"Petrini. It's late."
"Lorenzo." He nods, water dripping from his hair. "Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to check on you after what happened a few days ago."
"What happened a few days ago?" I'm playing dumb, but it's really none of his business, and I'd hate to have to kill him when I just told Serena my job was to protect her. He's not a threat, just an annoyance.
"The break-in. I saw the police cars, the ambulance." His eyes try to peer past me into the house. "Nasty business, from what I could tell."
I keep my expression neutral. "I wasn't home."
"No? That's fortunate. The crime scene crew was here for hours. Multiple fatalities, according to the radio chatter."
The rain picks up, sending water cascading off the roof in heavy streams. Petrini shifts from foot to foot, clearly hoping I'll invite him inside. I don't.
"Property crime is getting worse in this neighborhood," I say. "I'll need to upgrade my security system."
"Good idea. You can never be too careful." He pauses, studying my face. "The repair crew did excellent work, though. You'd never know anything happened."
There was no repair crew. Emilio's people cleaned the scene and removed all evidence within hours of the shooting. The fact that Petrini knows this tells me he's been watching my house more closely than any retired detective should.
"Insurance covers most of it."
"Insurance. Right." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Well, I'm glad you're safe. These criminals, they're getting bolder every year. Someone should keep an eye on them."
The subtext is clear. He's watching me, and he wants me to know it. The question is whether he's working for someone or just indulging retired cop curiosity.
"I appreciate the concern," I tell him, "but I can take care of myself."
"I'm sure you can." He steps back from the door, rainwater streaming down his face. "Good night, Lorenzo."
"Good night."
