Captivated by the deadly mafia boss

“What is it?” I sigh. My brother has a flair for the dramatic. I usually play into it because he knows things I don’t about people. He listens to the gossip, knows who is doing what. I don’t have to do those things because he does them for me.

“Kasia has been working with a private detective for the last year.” He is also a man who can get straight to the point when needed.

“What?” I reach for the folder, but he swipes it away.

“She’s been paying him a monthly fee, but the guy’s a washed-up asshole. He takes her money but doesn’t do shit.”

“What does she want him to do?” I ask. Private detectives have contacts in the police department. Having men like him poking around families like mine and Kasia’s father isn’t safe. She should know better.

“She wants him to find who was involved in the car accident. Apparently, she doesn’t believe it was just some drunk.” He finally slides the folder over to me. “What’s in here is his contact information, some of the snapshots I got of him, and a few police reports. He has a rap sheet almost as long as mine.” He smirks.

I flip through the folder. “What did you find in her emails?” After finding her in my office and seeing that bogus email account on the screen, I asked Jakub to find the real one. I knew she was hiding something, and I was right.

“Mostly just emails to this DeGrazio asshole. She used it for school, so there was a bunch of stuff to and from her professors.”This is property © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“And her texts?” I push. She’s not going to like that I’ve dug so hard into her life, but the means justify it.

“More of the same. A few messages to the detective wondering if he had anything – after he doesn’t answer her emails. A few to a study group. She could have deleted anything important, but I doubt it.”

“Why?” I ask, curious of his opinion.

He shrugs. “She doesn’t exactly live the most exciting life. Her calendar was filled with school shit, tests, paper dates, graduation stuff. Contact list was short; other than Marcin she had maybe half a dozen personal contacts. Everything else was professional shit.”

“Marcin kept her sheltered,” I say, but there’s more to it than that. People are just like things, easily taken away. If she’d surrounded herself with a lot of friends Marcin could use them against her. He could block her from them if she didn’t play his games right.

“How are things with her anyway? I mean, you tie the knot last night but you’re here doing business today?”

“She’ll settle in. It will be fine.” I check the time.

“Have you talked with Dad recently?” he asks, lowering his voice even though we’re the only ones in the room. The girls have all gone off to put on the next uniform option.

“A few days ago. I talked with his attorney this morning, that’s where I just came from. He’s confident he’ll have it all squared away by the end of the month.”

“Next time you go to the lawyer, I want to go with.” He raises his chin. “I should know what’s going on, too.” There’s a hint of defensiveness in his tone, but I don’t argue with him. He’s the second son and has spent more time partying than getting down to business. But I can’t deny he’s starting to come around.

“Of course. I’ll let you know. The whole case is bullshit. They have no tangible evidence. They audited the books and came up with nothing. Not a single receipt was out of balance.” That’s why we pay the number crunchers so fucking well. “It’s all just a campaign to cause trouble. Marcin’s behind it, I know it. He stands to get everything if our family is hit hard. They’ll give him our territories and none of his businesses will roll to us when he dies.” Which is going to be a lot sooner than the fucker thinks, if I can prove he’s behind the witch hunt that sent my father into hiding.

“And this shit with Marcin?” he prods.

“I have almost enough condemning information. Once everything’s cleared here, we can take it to the old men back home.” It’s not much, an overheard conversation. I need the money trail, and as soon as I get that it will be locked.

“You look ready to bolt; you need to be somewhere?” He pushes my shoulder. “I have two more uniforms to show you.”

“You’ll have to pick it yourself. I have just enough time to make a stop before I need to be at the accountant’s office on the south side. He might have the money trail we need to get permission to move forward. Just send me a picture of the one you like.” I slap his shoulder and grab the folder from the bar top. “Thanks for this, Jakub.”

“Yeah.” He waves me off.” Go. I’ll just sit here and put this damn club together.”

I laugh. He grumbles, but building up clubs is his specialty. He flips night clubs the way real estate moguls do houses. But this time, he’s not flipping it, this time we’re keeping it. Legit businesses are needed in our world, and this one will serve us well.

* * *

Erik DeGrazio, private detective, wasn’t hard to find. When he wasn’t at his office, his secretary pointed toward the dive bar across the street. That’s where I found him. Slumped over a half drunken beer, watching the Cubs getting their asses handed to them on the big screen television. His gray shaggy hair hangs over his ears, and his thick plastic-rimmed glasses slide down his nose. He pushes them back up with his pudgy finger.

“So, this is what my wife is paying you good fucking money for,” I say, sliding into the stool beside him at the empty bar. The bartender looks up at me but quickly makes the right decision and heads to the other side of the room. There’re a few stragglers watching the game. But they’re either too drunk or too jaded to care what Mr. DeGrazio and I are talking about.

“Who’s your wife?” His words slur.

I shake my head. Washed up ex-cop probably.

“Kasia Garska. She’s a Staszek now, though.”

His eyes widen, fixate on me, then he looks at the door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” I assure him and pat his shoulder. “I just want to know what you’ve found out so far.”

“Who are you?” he asks. Fear makes his lip tremble, or maybe it’s the liquor.

“Dominik Staszek, her husband.”

His lips puff outward when he blows out a breath.

“Fuck.”

“Well, that depends. What information do you have for me?” I ask, pushing his beer away from him.

“Look. I haven’t told her anything. I keep telling her there’s nothing. I keep telling her, but she keeps sending me money and telling me to keep looking.” He puts up both his hands.

“I’m not asking what you told her. I’m asking what you found.” I lean closer to him. “And I don’t have a lot of time, so don’t fuck with me.”

He nods quick and blinks several times. Maybe he’s trying to reset his brain.

“Okay, okay.” He blows out another breath. “The guy driving the car – according to the police report – was high as a fucking kite.”

“And?” I roll my hand in the air when he pauses.

“His brakes were cut.”

My interest piques.

“Go on.”

“The guy, he was a small-time dealer for the Kominskis. Once I found that out, I stopped looking. I didn’t tell her anything. I just let it go. But she won’t.”

“You keep cashing her checks though?” I’d also like to know where her money comes from, but I’ll find that out later. When I question my secretive wife.

“I won’t anymore,” he vows with wide open eyes. I can’t fault the man too much. It was smart to stop looking. Turning over rocks in my world can find a man bitten by something much worse than an angry mosquito. The Kominskis aren’t a family to mess around with. Sticking his nose into that hornets’ nest wouldn’t have ended well for him.

“No. You won’t. If she contacts you again, you call me.” I pull out a business card and shove it into the chest pocket of his Members Only jacket.

“I got it,” he says with a hard nod. “You really married her?”

“Yes, Mr. DeGrazio. I did.” I slap his back and head toward the door. I have more questions for him, but I need him sober. I’ll call on him again when he’s clear headed.

But first, I have an interrogation to get to.