Sinner's Bond

SINNER’S BOND BARONE SYNDICATE BOOK TWO NATALIE TRYST For those who fight for social justice. CONTENTS 1. Klein McKenna 2. Mateo Barone 3. Klein 4. Mateo 5. Klein 6. Mateo 7. Klein 8. Mateo 9. Klein 10. Mateo 11. Klein 12. Mateo 13. Klein 14. Mateo 15. Klein 16. Mateo 17. Klein 18. Mateo 19. Klein 20. Mateo 21. Klein 22. Mateo 23. Klein 24. Mateo 25. Klein 26. Mateo 27. Klein 1 KLEIN MCKENNA This is it. All the effort I’ve put into my career is finally paying off. The years of hard work at law school. The long days at the office. I gave it everything I had, came across a stroke of luck, and here I am standing behind District Attorney Richard Nicoletti as he talks to the press. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and try to keep a straight face as I imagine the news crews picking up the noise of the phone buzzing. I know it’s too quiet, I’m too far in the back of the group, and Nicoletti is talking too loudly for anything else to be heard, but it amuses me anyway. “It’s a great day for the residents of Philadelphia, and it’s a very bad day for organized crime,” Nicoletti boasts to the cameras. “This is the biggest seizure of illegal drugs and arms in the history of Pennsylvania.” I try not to roll my eyes at Nicoletti’s clichéd bravado. I’d expect nothing else from him. But this bust never would have happened without me. Even though I’m squeezed into the 2nd row behind the DA as he addresses the cameras, I know that he’s aware how crucial my actions were, and that makes me proud. He’s never talked down to me exactly. At least no more than he does to anyone else who isn’t a rank above him in government. But this is going to make him really take notice of me as an asset to the team. I’ll admit, I did get lucky. I was tipped off anonymously about the deal shortly before it happened. It could have been a fake tip. We get them all the time. But something struck a chord with me on this one, so I followed up on it. “District Attorney Nicoletti, with such a major seizure and given the mafia’s proclivity for violence, even against politicians and government authorities, do you fear that you could be a target for revenge?” a reporter in the front row asks. Nicoletti responds, boasting, “Of course not. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve wanted a piece of me. And I say, ‘go ahead and try.’” Even though his answer is almost cringe-worthy, this time I don’t feel like rolling my eyes. I know how real the threat is, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it. I think of his daughter Gina, abducted right in front of me after I showed her a note I found from a would-be assassin. The note was meant for her father, and I’m sure one of the mafia families was involved. I also think of how much danger I’d be in if the Russian or Italian mafia families involved ever knew what I did. That I was the one that followed the tip and got them caught. I wasn’t able to find any leads to who sent the information, but I know if they were ever found by the people they betrayed, they’d probably pay with their life. I feel the blood drain from my face, and again I wonder if anyone watching the live broadcast notices. It’s not like I didn’t know what I was getting myself into, going into criminal law on the side of the government in this city. There are signs of mafia activity everywhere if you know what to look for. And sometimes, even if you don’t. I’ve just never been quite so close to it until the last few days. After the news crews clear out of the room, Nicoletti’s assistant serves us all flutes of champagne. Nicoletti congratulates us as a group. A few people take the opportunity to kiss his ass with their own over-the-top toasts. I’m as ambitious and hardworking as the rest of them. Probably more-so. But I just can’t bring myself to pander to him like that. The celebration turns into an early happy hour and some of the other legal teams from our office building join us. It’s clear that we’re starting the weekend already. I try to calculate how much longer I need to stay before I can take off. If we’re done working, I’ve got no intention of sticking around. I can only take so much ‘networking’ before I start to lose my ability to feign interest in small talk. I remember my phone vibrating earlier, and I pull it out to check my messages. “Klein,” a voice behind me interrupts as I feel a hand grip my shoulder aggressively. I jump from the surprise, and nearly drop my phone. It’s Nicoletti. He’s old. And very traditional. I try to hide my phone behind me as I turn around. I’m the youngest person on our team and I know he already thinks everyone in my generation is on their phone too much. I’m not in the mood to deal with what he likes to call “teasing.” “Great work,” he says as I face him. His hand is still on my shoulder. If I were a man, he’d be shaking my hand. “Thank you, sir,” I hold out my hand to force him to shake it and treat me with the same respect as the men on our team. I have just enough graciousness left to grant him a smile. He lets go of my shoulder and wraps my hand in both of his. More intimate than the handshake I was going for. Oh, well. “You really pulled through for us on this case. You took some real risks. You’ve got more potential than anyone