ESCANTA: A James Thomas Novel (The James Thomas Series Book 1) (8 page)

James clenched his jaw. It was bad news—a mystery of horrors.

“How many in Escanta?”

“I don’t know…eleven, twelve maybe. You won’t find them in Russia, though. Go to Hungary.”

“Why Hungary?”

Dasha pressed her lips together and James turned the knife, watching the blood leak onto the floor like a flowing tap. She was seconds away from unconsciousness.

“Their headquarters are there. That’s where the group makes their money, mostly in drug smuggling—heroin.”

“Give me a name,” James pressed, his grip adjusting on the blade.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” Dasha screamed and James knew he’d extracted all he could. And it was time to leave before she attracted any further attention.

“You’ve been most helpful,” James said, smirking.

“Fuck you!” Dasha said as he walked away. “How did you do it, Liam? How did you get out of the agency alive?”

James paused, watching her fight to stay awake, to hear his answer, but it was a battle she was never going to win. Her eyes rolled backward and her head slumped forward.

“I made a deal. Take care, Dash,” James said as he moved toward the door. Cami emerged from the adjoining sitting room, where she’d been waiting in the shadows, and they exited wordlessly.

They took the stairs, three at a time until they were in the foyer. Samuel gave them the all clear as they stepped out onto the street but James still did his own surveillance—you could never be too careful.

Cami unlocked the car and they slid in.

“Go,” James said, as he set to work removing the second skin that was attached to his fingers—it masked his fingerprints. There would be no police investigation, though, because then Dasha would have to admit what had happened. And that would never happen. Not a single word about tonight would ever leave her lips unless Escanta came for her. That was a risk James’ should’ve eliminated by killing her but he couldn’t do it, not given their past, not after Paris.

“Samuel, ring it in,” James instructed when they were several blocks south of her apartment.

“Consider it done,” Samuel said.

By the time the anonymous call was placed and the medic crews reached Dasha, James and Cami would be long gone—like ghosts in the night.

Thirteen files sat atop one another, like a leaning tower ready to topple. Mak hoped the tower wasn’t an omen of how the case would proceed. She prepared for her cases like she had done for her university exams—every detail was meticulously noted, every fact memorized, every explanation analyzed. And she prepared early. There was no last-minute cramming, no pushing of the deadline. And now she had sixteen hours until she had to be in court.

“Kayla,” Mak said as her girlfriend answered her phone.

“Hiya, gorgeous. Are you ready? Are you nervous?” Kayla asked.

“All of the above,” Mak said.

Kayla was a childhood friend who had also become a lawyer. She’d gone in a different route, specializing in medical litigation, but she still understood.

“You teach those bad boys who’s boss, Mak. So, are we going out for our customary pre-case drink?”

It was a ritual that before either of them had a big case, they would go out for a drink. Just one, but one was enough to take the edge off the nerves and ensure a decent night’s sleep.

“I’m ready when you are,” Mak said.

They confirmed the details and Mak found herself grinning as she hung up the phone. She locked the files away in the cabinet, grabbed her bag and locked her office behind her. Her bodyguard, one much less interesting than Cami, was waiting for her in the hallway.

“I’m going to The Market, on Essex Street,” Mak said.

The past week had been interesting. She had moved apartments, and with the impending trial she was still living in a maze of boxes. It didn’t feel like home, and she felt uncomfortable in the space. She hoped it was a temporary measure, and given that she hadn’t received any more notes, she felt more confident, more protected.

Kayla was waiting for her when she arrived and had managed to secure a table in the busy cocktail bar. She sat poised like a true lady with her legs crossed and her cheek resting in the palm of her hand. Mak’s life hadn’t been easy at times, but Kayla’s had been worse. She went through a rough patch, got kicked out of school, got hooked on cocaine, but managed to turn her life around again. Luckily she’d never been arrested during those days, otherwise her legal dreams would never have been realized. They’d lost touch briefly but had reconnected when Kayla had gone into rehab. And they’d spoken nearly every day since.

“I took the liberty of ordering,” Kayla said, eyeballing Mak’s security.

“I will be stationed by the bar,” her bodyguard said, and walked off. Mak breathed a sigh of relief.

“How’s that all going?” Kayla asked with a humored smile.

“Don’t get me started. He’s driving me nuts. And he’s got as much personality as a piece of cardboard.”

Kayla burst into laughter, her entire chest shaking as she giggled.

“Anyway,” Mak continued, “this is my life for the time being so no point giving it much more thought. Let’s talk about something else—anything else, please.”

“Well, I’ve got news…I’m going home next week. For a few days, maybe less, maybe more, we’ll have to see how that goes.”

Mak thought the apprehension in Kayla’s voice probably reflected the thoughts in her mind.

“Wow. That is good news, right?” Mak asked.

Going home to see your parents should be no big deal, it should be something you look forward to, but Kayla had barely spoken to her parents in years, let alone seen them. The last time she had been at home she was sitting on the front doorstep with a duffel bag of belongings—after they’d kicked her out. They had reason; she’d stolen from them, she’d verbally abused them, and she’d caused a scene in front of her younger siblings. Kayla had since rebuilt her life, but Mak guessed Kayla’s parents were still hurting.

“It should be, I suppose. I don’t know, Mak, I’m terrified to go back there. The memories…they’re not good.” Kayla wet her lips and averted her glistening eyes.

Mak reached across the table and squeezed her arm. “Things are different now. You’re different, and you’re healthy and successful. Forgiveness is a long road, right? And it’s taken a long time for your parents to get to this point, so they wouldn’t want you to come home unless they were sure about it.”

“I know, and logically it makes sense. But there’s still some part of me that is terrified of stepping up to the front door of that home, of not being allowed in again.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Mak said. “When are you going?” She wished she could go with her, but Mak’s trial aside, this was something Kayla had to do on her own.

“Next weekend.” Kayla dabbed at the corner of her eye. “Please tell me my mascara hasn’t smudged. I paid a good price for this waterproof shit.”

“You look as beautiful as the moment I walked in.” Mak beamed a grin so big she felt it stretch her face.

Kayla scoffed. “Smooth, Mak, smooth. Oh, three o’clock looking fine.”

Mak’s eyes bulged in surprise: Deacon Thomas.

“Unbelievable,” Mak muttered. He sat on one of the couches, with a group of four men and, right on cue, as she sat staring at him with her jaw open wide, he looked up.

“Talk to me, Mak,” Kayla urged.

“He’s the other owner of the security firm, the one handling Jayce Tohmatsu’s security.”

“The brother of the guy on your flight, correct?” Kayla said.

“Correct,” Mak mumbled under her breath. Kayla’s eyes crossed over to the couch. “He’s coming over.”

Mak turned toward him. “It’s a surprise to see you here,” she said.

“Likewise,” Deacon said. “I heard your trial starts tomorrow. Good luck.” He turned to Kayla and introduced himself, and then turned straight back to Mak.

“How is everything going?” he asked, nodding in the direction of her bodyguard.

Mak shrugged her shoulders. “It appears to be fine, but how would I really know?”

His smile was beautiful, and innocent, but Mak thought underneath the persona he was nothing of the sort. “Everything is fine,” he said. It was a reassurance, and Mak wondered how he knew such things if he was no longer handling her security. Was he watching her too?

“Good to know,” she said, looking past him to the group of men on the couch. “Boys’ night out?”

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Deacon said.

“I thought you’d be too busy for a night out,” Mak pushed back. She still thought about that meeting and wondered if the excuse they had given her was the truth, or if there was more going on. But perhaps she was overanalyzing it—she did have a lawyer’s mind, one that questioned everything.

He smiled at her jab. “Believe it or not, I’m actually working.” When she looked down at his glass, he continued, “It’s Coke—you can have some if you’d like.”

“Thank you, but I’ll stick to my martini. How is Cami? She’s much better company than they guy you hooked me up with.”

Deacon chuckled. “She’s good. I’ll tell her you said so when I see her next. She’ll love the compliment.”

“Please do,” Mak said, not sure what else to say.

“I’ll leave you to it. It was nice to meet you, Kayla, and take care, Mak.” His eyes bore a hint of resemblance to his brother’s in that moment—in that there was something hiding behind them.

“He seems too lovely to be true,” Kayla said, watching him as he walked back to his seat on the couch.

“Doesn’t he?” Mak said, swallowing the last of her cocktail.

“Is his brother equally charming?” Kayla asked.

James Thomas seemed to be many things, but charming was not one of them. “
Alluring
is probably a better word,” Mak said. “He’s less pretty but much more handsome. And he has a certain air about him…a certain energy. I barely know him but from what I’ve observed I think he’s very skilled at hiding who he is. I would say there are very few people who truly know him,” Mak said, stirring the toothpick around the empty glass. “But sometimes it’s not what someone says, or does, that gives away their secrets. It’s what they don’t do, right?”

“Hmm,” Kayla said thoughtfully.

“Are you done?” Mak said, looking at Kayla’s empty glass. “I should go home and get some rest.”

“Yes, I’m done,” she said, sliding off the stool. “Good luck tomorrow, girl. You got this.” And there wasn’t a tinge of doubt in her voice.

Mak stared at him like she was looking down the barrel of a gun. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t falter, but he clearly didn’t enjoy it. She’d had him on the witness stand for two hours now.

“Mr. Bassetti, when did you immigrate to the United States of America?”

“In 1965.”

“And when you immigrated, you did so with your parents, your brother, and your sister. Is that correct?”

“Yes, it is.”

“And have any other family members immigrated since then?”

“No.”

“So, all of your mother’s and father’s families remain in Italy. Is that correct?”

“Objection!” Mr. Bassetti’s lawyer called. “Seek to relevance?”

“I’m seeking to establish the family dynamic,” Mak responded, squaring her shoulders.

“Overruled. Answer the question, Mr. Bassetti.”

“Yes, they remain in Italy.”

“And in which province do the majority of them reside?” Mak pressed on.

“Objection! Your Honor, his family’s location has no relevance to this case.”

The judge looked between the two lawyers, paused, and then spoke. “I’ll allow it, but make your point, fast, Mrs. Ashwood.”

Mak walked toward the jury, placing one had on the banister. Mak repeated the question.

“They are based in Naples.”

Mak’s lips teased a smile. “Naples. The base of the Camorra Mafia. Mr. Bassetti, do any of your family members—”

“Objection!”

“Sustained,” the judge ruled.

“No further questions at this time,” Mak said, having successfully planted the seed.

“You may step down, Mr. Bassetti. This court is adjourned. We will resume tomorrow at eight a.m.”

Mak collected her papers, letting the courtroom empty before she walked out into the media circus.

“That was a bold move, bringing up the mafia so early in the game,” her assistant prosecutor, Daniel, whispered.

“It’s a key aspect of this case. I need it to be front and center in the jury’s minds.”

Mak knew it was a risk, but it was a case she had to take risks on. If she played safe, she would lose. As Mak turned to leave, she saw the father of one of the victims still sitting in the pews. His daughter, had she still been alive, would’ve been Mak’s age. He was the reason she did what she did. The dead were gone, and it was their surviving loved ones who suffered the most. Mak couldn’t bring the victims back, but she could give their families justice. Provided she won. The gravity of his eyes, sunken and sullen in his lined face—it was that look that drove her to bring these broken people some peace.

There were few countries in the world that James had never visited, and Hungary was one of them. Until now.

James and Cami had been in Hungary a week, and they had managed to track down three Escanta members. Each member revealed something different, like pieces of a puzzle, and James thought he now had enough to know who the Escanta leader was, but he was waiting on confirmation from Samuel.

“That looks disgusting,” James said.

“It tastes so good,” Cami said, her mouth full and bulging with Lángos.

“How do they make it?” James asked, drinking his coffee.

“I don’t know…I guess they fry up the dough and then slather it with sour cream and cheese. Mm-mmm,” she said, patting her stomach. “If I die tonight and this is my last meal, at least I’ll die happy.”

James laughed at her joke. If Samuel gave them the information they wanted, tonight could be a hairy situation. When your career revolved around life and death situations, you learned quickly to adopt a good sense of humor and poke fun at the situation. It was preferable to a nervous breakdown.

“I hope this is our last night here,” James said. “I’m anxious to get back to New York.”