Once LAPD stepped foot inside the Bonanno estate, Francis Ricci had nowhere left to hide.
But handing him over to the locals? Might as well put a bullet in his head right now.
Lawson stared down at the man on the floor.
"Mr. Ricci… you wanna die tonight, or you wanna live?"
Francis tilted his head, eyes flat.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Last chance. Give the Bonanno family's money back and I hand you to LAPD."
Francis shook his head slowly.
"Doesn't matter. Early grave, late grave… same ending."
The guy had clearly made up his mind. He was ready to take that cash straight to hell with him.
Lawson sighed, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, picked up one of the Castro crew's submachine guns, and leveled it at Francis.
"You sure about this?"
Francis closed his eyes and said nothing. That was answer enough.
But Lawson never squeezed the trigger. He still had one last use for the bastard.
"Ms. Koreykosova, keep an eye on him. I'll be right back."
Lawson slipped into an empty room and checked the LAPD's movements outside. They were already stacking up to breach.
Time was almost gone. He pulled out his phone.
"Uncle home today?"
"Uncle's in the hospital. Lawson? Why the hell are you calling me at this hour?"
"Neal, I wanna make a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"Wondering if the FBI's still interested in Francis Ricci."
"What? You've got Francis Ricci?"
"Mmhmm. But he won't be here much longer, so you better decide fast."
Neal's breathing spiked. Francis wasn't just some capo — he was the Bonanno consigliere. The guy knew where every body was buried. Taking him down would crack the entire family wide open. Career-making case. Neal couldn't say no.
He forced his voice steady.
"What do you want, Lawson?"
"Official FBI credentials. I'll keep feeding you intel as an undercover, but I need the badge and full file access."
"Lawson, you know becoming an agent means strict vetting. I don't have the power to just hand you a badge. But I can double your intel fee — fifty grand sound good?"
This time Neal didn't try the usual carrot routine. He knew Lawson would spot the bullshit.
Fifty grand. Cute. Lawson had Sofia's future billions waiting the second Old Martin died. (Well, they'd move everything into her name before the old man kicked it — estate tax in America was a killer.)
"Neal, I only want the badge."
"That's impossible. Your background would never clear screening!"
"Three."
"The FBI isn't some club you just walk into!"
"Two."
"I'd have to fake your entire history. If anyone ever finds out—"
"One."
"Fine! Fine! You win, Lawson. I'll make the badge happen."
"How long?"
"Three months. Three months and it's done."
"Neal, I've always trusted you. Don't make me regret it."
Neal could hear the easy confidence in Lawson's voice and it pissed him off.
"Goddammit — which one of us is the handler here?"
"Does it matter, Neal? You get the big case, the promotion, the corner office. Everything else is noise."
That cooled Neal down a little.
"Oh, and one more piece of good news — I'm now a made man in the Bonanno family. We can work this from the inside. Who knows, I might be calling you Special Agent in Charge pretty soon."
Neal was currently a Senior Special Agent, same rank as Sean Arthur. One step below Assistant SAC, two below full SAC.
Lawson's words stroked his ego perfectly.
"The Bonanno case probably won't get me all the way to SAC, but Assistant SAC? Yeah, that's realistic."
"Perfect. So, Assistant SAC Neal… you'd better get your ass to the Bonanno estate fast. LAPD's already here. Few more minutes and Francis walks out in their cuffs."
Neal caught on immediately.
"Wait — Francis is at the estate? Where the hell are you right now?"
"I'm here too."
"What the fuck, Lawson?! You knew where he was this whole time and you're only telling me now?!"
"Keep talking and that Assistant SAC slot's gonna vanish. I see LAPD starting to breach. I'll stall as long as I can — get here!"
Lawson hung up.
Back at the FBI field office, Neal slammed his phone down so hard the screen nearly cracked.
"Son of a bitch!"
But he couldn't waste time being mad. This was the opportunity of a lifetime.
---
By the time the fully geared LAPD team stormed the villa under Quinn's command, all they found were zip-tied wounded men… and two ridiculously good-looking people standing there with their hands up.
"LAPD! Drop your weapons!"
"Hey, you blind? We're not holding any."
Lawson and Eva already had their hands up in perfect surrender position.
Eva had slipped her CZ-75 to Lawson earlier. Her background was… complicated. Last thing they needed was LAPD digging into an international assassin.
They'd agreed: all the credit went to Lawson.
The LAPD officers stared, stunned.
Quinn scanned the room frantically, looking for Billy. When he didn't see him, he relaxed slightly.
"You two did all this?"
"Technically me and the guards. I'm Mrs. Bonanno's personal bodyguard."
One guy taking down a dozen armed intruders sounded insane, so Lawson generously spread the glory around.
Quinn went quiet.
The young cop next to him spoke up.
"Everybody's coming with us!"
"Hold on — this was self-defense. Why are we going to the station? Didn't you see the dead guards outside?"
Lawson was stalling hard, but the young cop wasn't having it.
"Whether it was self-defense or not is for us to determine after investigation — not you."
Lawson tried to keep dragging it out, but more officers were already moving in.
That's when Sofia's cold, elegant voice cut through the room from the staircase.
"Is this how the LAPD does business these days?"
Sofia descended slowly, one hand on the railing, the two surviving guards trailing behind her like loyal attack dogs. They looked exactly like what they were — hardened mob muscle.
"Officer, we were attacked for no reason by these criminals. Why are we the ones being treated like suspects?"
The young cop — Colin — looked at the stunning, regal woman in front of him and his whole attitude shifted.
"Ma'am, this is just standard procedure."
Sofia wasn't buying it. All she saw was them trying to take her man away — and that was completely unacceptable.
"Really? Maybe I should have a word with the community board about how slow LAPD response was tonight… and how you don't allow people to defend themselves."
Most wealthy American neighborhoods had powerful community boards — basically HOAs on steroids. They decided who could live there and who had to go. Money didn't always talk if the board said no.
Colin's face changed. Sofia was flexing real power now.
He opened his mouth, but old Quinn quickly cut him off.
"Colin, enough. Mrs. Bonanno, we just need this gentleman to come in for questioning."
"Then don't treat him like a criminal. He deserves respect."
Sofia's eyes moved to Lawson, and her entire expression softened instantly.
(Colin Sullivan)
Both Quinn and Colin looked pissed, but what could they do? America was a rich man's country. The laws, the rules, the system — all of it served money first. Even the President couldn't touch the big donors. Two street cops sure as hell couldn't.
"Mrs. Bonanno, we'll follow proper protocol. We just need the gentleman to cooperate. By the way… are all the intruders accounted for?"
Lawson answered for them.
"One got away. Not sure if your guys saw him when you came in."
Of course they hadn't. Quinn had deliberately left Billy an escape route.
Quinn frowned. Not only was Billy missing — Francis Ricci was nowhere to be seen either.
He quickly found an excuse.
"Maybe the suspect is still hiding somewhere in the villa. Dick, take a team and sweep the place."
"Yes sir!"
Dick started moving when Lawson stepped in front of him.
"Officer, do you have a search warrant?"
"We're looking for a dangerous fugitive. We don't need one for that."
Quinn tried to bullshit his way through, but Lawson wasn't having it.
"Sorry, officer. There are a lot of valuable antiques and sensitive business documents in this villa. If something gets damaged and Mrs. Bonanno suffers a loss, that would be unfortunate. We'd prefer everything to be by the book. Besides, we already handled the dangerous individuals ourselves. You guys haven't done anything yet."
Quinn's face froze. Without Francis, Billy's entire operation had been for nothing.
"Sir, our search procedures are completely professional. We won't damage anything. We're just looking for someone."
Lawson shook his head.
"If guarantees were worth anything, we wouldn't need contracts. Your word means nothing here, officer."
Even good-natured old Quinn was starting to get pissed.
Right then, one of his men ran up and whispered something in his ear.
"What? The FBI's here? How the hell did they know about this?"
Quinn was about to explode. The win was right there — and now the feds were coming to steal it.
The FBI didn't give a shit about local feelings. Federal authority trumped county and state, especially in big cases.
LAPD had money, but they couldn't compete with the Bureau.
Neal pushed his way in moments later.
"Well well, if it isn't Lieutenant Quinn. Long time no see!"
Neal flashed a big smile like they were old buddies.
Quinn was not smiling back. He glared at Neal.
"Neal, what the hell is the FBI doing here?"
"What do you mean? I'm here chasing a fugitive. We received a tip that one of the masterminds behind the Korean restaurant massacre — Alberto Bruno — is inside this villa. Any problem with that?"
Quinn opened his mouth, but he knew Neal had legitimate reason to be here. The Korean restaurant case was officially his.
Neal turned to Lawson, his expression a little sour. He was still salty about being kept in the dark.
"Sir, can you tell me where Alberto Bruno is?"
"You mean Alberto? He was killed by the intruders. Want me to show you the body?"
"Please."
A few minutes later, Neal and his FBI team walked out with Francis Ricci in cuffs.
The second Quinn saw them taking Francis, he lost it. Colin tried to block them too.
"That's our suspect!"
"Yours?"
Neal gave Colin a dismissive look.
"The FBI has solid evidence that Mr. Francis Ricci helped orchestrate the Korean restaurant massacre. He's our suspect too. Step aside."
Colin didn't move. LAPD feared rich people, but they didn't fear the FBI. Pushing back against feds actually scored points with the brass.
But Neal had come prepared. One of his agents jogged over and handed him a document.
"Here's the federal arrest warrant. Want me to read it to you?"
After Lawson hung up, Neal had simultaneously scrambled his team and gotten a judge out of bed to sign the warrant. He'd completely outmaneuvered Quinn.
The LAPD had zero legal ground left to stand on.
"Gentlemen, why don't you come with us to the FBI field office? Don't worry — our coffee's excellent."
Sofia wanted to speak, but Lawson gave her a look and she stayed quiet.
Under the burning stares of every LAPD officer present, Neal walked out like he owned the place, taking both Francis Ricci and Lawson with him.
Left behind in the villa were only Sofia and Eva — two women who looked completely harmless.
Oh, and the unconscious Castro crew members on the floor. Neal hadn't been a total asshole about it.
"Sir… what do we do now?"
Quinn couldn't hold back his rage anymore. He glared at his subordinate Dick.
"What the fuck do you think we do? Load up the suspects and head back to the station. Do I have to spell everything out for you?"
---