The Promise Ch. 02

Rebecca started to grab for her briefcase. She was sure now that no matter what Andreas did or didn't do at the club, Gio Spinelli was behaving like a criminal. The doors of the limo locked as the bodyguard next to her took her hands in one of his giant mitts and squeezed. She thought he was going to break her wrists as tears pricked her eyes. The other bodyguard took her case and rifled it until he found the file. He removed the inventory list and replaced it, then added a few photos to the folder before replacing it and returning the case to her. She rubbed feeling back into her hands as her wrists were let go.

"I had hoped you would take care of all this for us, Ms. Johnson. Work on that next time. For now, just return that file to your office and forget we met today. I don't think that witness is going to prove very useful on the stand."

The car stopped. They had circled the block and the door opened to reveal her building. Rebecca stepped onto the sidewalk with her bag and the tampered folder. Gio Spinelli looked at her over the half-opened window. "Once you get this case dropped, I want you to escort my boy from the jail. Let the press get some pictures of you two. I think you two would look good together. You do this personally, Ms. Johnson." He rolled up the window leaving her to stare at reflection, then pulled away. There was no expectation of agreement from her. She understood now that she was very close to being owned by the mob. If she didn't get herself ahead a little, she'd be swept up in the power plays of others for the rest of her career.

She looked at the file on the subway. The new inventory was the same as the old, with the addition of a line item referencing the pictures that were now paperclipped to the folder. They were explicit and showed the witness in several compromising positions with Andreas Spinelli. It wouldn't take much for a defense attorney to make a jury wonder if she was retaliating for a one-night stand and some embarrassing pictures. Whether Andreas was innocent or not, the way the Spinellis were handling this, didn't look at all like an upstanding family. Who the hell was she kidding?- They're the Mafia for god's sake. She threw the folder in her bag and tried to clear her head for the rest of the trip.

She arrived at the office knowing the case was dead. With no witnesses to testify and no camera footage, it was two drunk rich kids' word against each other. No judge would bother with this.

Brody was the first person she saw stepping off the elevator. She tried to not blush or flinch as he passed her. She didn't know who in the office was a spy for the Spinellis, but she knew she'd never be able to move or speak freely at work again. As Brody passed her on the way to her desk he smiled and licked his lips. Rebecca looked down at the floor, feeling angry and ashamed.

Fuck this bastard- it's time to play dirty, she thought. With Brody headed to the break room for his morning coffee, she walked directly into his office. She tried not to think about the previous day, but she could still smell herself in the air. She opened the drawer where she'd seen Brody put her panties. They were still there, but crusty now with his seed. Rebecca threw up a little in her mouth as she shoved them into her bag and put the photos in his desk. As she shut the drawer and moved toward the door, Brody walked in. Rebecca covered in the only way she could think. She passed by him in the doorway, squeezing through instead of waiting. Her hand was low and she rubbed against where she assumed his dick would be, but only caught the tip against her palm. Brody was smaller than she'd thought. Nonetheless, she smiled seductively and rubbed him as they passed. Whispering, she said, "I was going to thank you for yesterday. I may need another file later if you could help me out." Brody turned beet red and he nodded. She felt him stir in his shorts.

"Sure, anytime. Just knock." He said hoarsely.

She smiled and left him in his office, shutting the door behind her, and headed directly to the DA's office. Well, so much for fighting fair, she thought. District Attorney Spencer had been elected by a narrow margin and was constantly looking for the wisest political move. It made for an infuriating boss if you wanted to put away criminals. Most of their cases turned into plea bargains and trade-offs as they looked to keep things running smooth for city hall. The other side of the politician coin meant he was an approachable boss, even if he wasn't the crusader the office needed. Rebecca wondered if he knew the Spinelli family had eyes here. Probably not, she thought, as she knocked.

"Come in." she heard through the door.

"DA Spencer," she said, greeting him with her hand extended. "Rebecca."

"I remember, Ms. Johnson. I hired you. I don't seem that far removed from the fray, do I?" His barely glanced at her as her continued signing ledgers.

"Uh," Thrown off a bit, Rebecca scrambled to recover. "No, sir, I just didn't want to presume you remembered me. I just made it onto the Spinelli case."

"Yes, that. Brody Anderson is your boss. Talk to him."

"Yes sir. I wanted to point out a couple of things I found in the discovery documents Brody gave me yesterday. Our witnesses have some problems."

"Oh?" He leaned forward on his elbows, temporarily stopping his work. The D.A. was a silver fox type of man. Dapper, determined and entirely dangerous. Perfectly tanned skin, thick black hair with streaks of silver and cold, ice blue eyes stared back at her. Gosh, his hair was amazing- was he Italian?

"Ms. Johnson?"

"Oh, um.." Rebecca blushed. What the hell was she doing? Since when did she become so sexual? Who was she going to fantasize about next- the 70 year old postman? Clearing her throat, and smoothing down her blouse she continued, "Sorry, sir. I've, ah-

Interrupting her with a roll of his eyes, he resumed his paperwork. "I've assumed you discussed this with Anderson?"

"That's the thing, sir. One of the witnesses may have a drug problem. Even if he's clean, there's a dealer busted last week who would likely testify the guy bought oxy from him. True or not..."

"The optics. I know. The appearance of a problem is enough sometimes." The DA looked pensive, his eyes narrowed, looking somewhere past Rebecca. Finally, he spoke again

"God damn it." He stood up from his desk and began pacing his office. "Damn!" He slapped his desk, rattling a pen out of its holder. Rebecca started to replace it. "Don't. Just leave it." She followed orders this time.

The DA wandered over to his office window and looked out, his hands on his hips. "I was hoping this might be the toehold I could use to get somewhere on Spinelli. He's too good to go at straight, but then Andreas beats some guy in a public place..." He turned to Rebecca. "Do you really think the defense was going to track down all that on the bartender? I looked at those files, I didn't catch anything about drugs. How did you?"

Rebecca explained the time and effort that went into uncovering all of this, in hopes of admittance into the boy's club.

Frowning, her boss stated, "You spent an entire day on the taxpayer's dime tracing back every employer, girlfriend, or landlord some bartender had in the last decade? Next time you want to get ahead, try not to do it at the expense of a very public win against a mob family. My constituents and I would appreciate it. Drug history or not, we're getting this kid, and then we're crawling up the vine until we can weed that whole family out of this city. I can win a jury over on some kid with a troubled past, and we've still got the girl, Creighton."

"Yes, sir." Rebecca stood, listen to her balloon of pride get deflated. Damn, if only she had been born with a penis! She went for her remaining chance at a victory. At least Brody would go down. She winced at the pun, then steeled herself and spoke. "The other thing involves Mr. Anderson. I wanted to come to you directly." She put the doctored file on his desk. "The inventory here lists some photos, but I don't have them in the file. I asked Brody about them and he acted strangely, told me to get out of his office. I don't mean to pull you into water-cooler drama. I just need to see those photos if they exist so we don't get blindsided on this witness."

DA Spencer straightened his tie and gestured to his office door. "Yes. Better to find out everything here and not in front of the jury. Let's get Anderson in on this and see what's going on with those mystery photos. Then I'm going to ask that you focus your paid hours on something productive, and try to remember we're called the prosecution, not the defense." Gulping, Rebecca followed him as they crossed the open bullpen floor to Brody's still-closed door. Without knocking, DA Spencer swung the door open, and Rebecca crossed her fingers, listening for that skin-slap noise she hoped would get her a bigger desk...

******

Rebecca fought the urge to leap into the room and yell "Gotcha". Unfortunately, Brody sat at his desk sipping his coffee. If he'd done anything untoward after their encounter at the door, he'd finished already. DA Spencer followed her into the office. "Hey boss, Rebecca. What's up?"

"Rebecca here, was just telling me there's something up with the bartender witness. She's all excited about it, but it's nothing. He lost a job a few years ago over drugs, and there's some dealer who may or may not have dealt to him. Be ready for cross."

"Will do, boss" Brody replied. Rebecca was furious at being sold out so quickly by Spencer. I fucking voted for you! she screamed in her head while trying her best to maintain a composure that wouldn't get her fired. "Anything else? We doing happy hour tonight?"

"Yeah, I'll be there a little late. Don't let Thompson and Wright get too far ahead of me with the scotch." He turned to Rebecca. "What was it you were missing from the file? Some photos?" Brody looked at her and smiled.

"Oh, yeah, boss. I was about to come find you about those." He opened a different drawer than where Rebecca had planted them and braced herself for whatever surprise Brody had up his sleeve. He laid the photos out on his desk in all their pornographic glory. "Rebecca may want to avert her eyes. Some of it's pretty graphic. Looks like our witness had sex with the defendant on at least one occasion. I don't think she's going to work on the stand, though she's pretty good on the lie-down if you know what I mean..." He and the DA laughed.

Hello! Anybody care that there's a female in here, Rebecca thought furiously. "Between this and the drug thing, it starts to add up. What do you think, boss?"

DA Spencer looked at Rebecca as if she had taken the photos and given the bartender drugs personally. Brody smiled, enjoying the shooting of the messenger. The DA spoke. "Yeah, you may be right. We've got no good witnesses except the accused and the attacker, and they both took a couple of punches. We move with this, it'll undercut our prosecution of anything in the future. I don't want to look like we're bullying the Spinellis. We'll end up getting sympathy for the scumbags."

"What do you want to do, boss?" Smugly, Brody spoke to Spencer but stared at Rebecca.

"We take it to court, and make a show of dropping the charges. Rebecca, you're going to talk to the press afterwards, turn it into a story about the nose-to-the-grindstone work we do here. The city will come off as fair, at least. It's not a win, but it's not a loss." He turned and with a wink at Brody left.

Gathering up the photos, Brody grinned like a kid in a candy store, watching Rebecca fume. "Did you want these back? I don't know where you got them, but they sure are sexy. Maybe you swing that way. You sure liked a good tonguing last night."

Snatching the photos, she silently promised herself that this wasn't over. "And I'd like that pair of panties back." Remembering his cum on her underwear, she paused. "Actually, make that a fresh new pair..." Slamming the door, she rushed out before he could say anything else.

Sighing, Rebecca trumps back to her desk, glancing at the clock as she sits down. Not even 11am yet and she already feels defeated. What the hell- why don't I take an early lunch? Not like anyone will notice, she thinks grimly. Gathering her purse and her phone, she walks to the elevator. Receiving a text from her phone, she reaches into her purse and reads it. Good job, sweetie. Wear something pretty to court and smile for the cameras. You're about to get famous...

Deleting the text message, she steps out into the lobby of the building, her appetite gone.