Entangled With The Mafia Boss

CHAPTER 7

Williams

I had paced the length of my office at least 20 times before the call I knew would come in. My assistant entered, her phone in hand, with a look of urgent worry stretched across her features.

"It’s for you. It’s him." She lowered her voice to a whisper and stepped back once she handed over the phone. I held it up for a moment, staring at the name and number on the screen before slowly placing it to my ear.

"Yes, sir," I said aloud, my voice tense.

"Tell me you have this under control," Ambrose’s dark voice resonated through the phone. It was the kind of voice that usually demanded immediate action or, in instances where I knew I was wrong, practically begged me to get down on my knees and start apologizing profusely. But there was no way I was going to do that. No way I would be doing any of the apologizing.

“There was a mole in the security of the prison. The warden had assured me. He had given me his entire assurance that nothing would happen. The only thing that begged the question right now was whether the warden was working with him.”

Ambrose was silent for a moment—a moment far too long in my opinion, causing anticipation to build up to a point where it was about to burst out of me. I held on, though, clenching my fists and biting my tongue.

"You had assured me the warden was in our pocket. It makes no sense that suddenly the warden would turn coat. Need I remind you just how many of them we managed to get on our side? And here you are already messing s**t up. Fix it, Williams. Fix it now and report back to me tomorrow." Ambrose hung up as soon as he was done talking, which unfortunately for me was just when I was about to open my mouth.

I lowered the phone from my ear and squeezed it as tightly as I could, wishing that I had the strength to break the damned device.

"Carla!" I barked as I resumed my pacing. The hurried footsteps against the marble floors of my office were heard soon after, followed by her labored breathing.

"What would you like me to do?" she asked.

"Here." I thrust the phone into her hand. "Get me the warden now. Send a car if you have to or whatever the heck it is you need to do to make it happen. I need to talk to the warden." She nodded, her features now showing urgency and determination, before rushing out the door and returning a few minutes later.

"He said he’s in town. He said he’s on his way and that he actually needed to talk to you. He said he had a few camera footages from the time when it happened," she said, raising her eyebrows while her eyes widened.

"Get out," I ordered, pointing at the door. I walked over to my desk and pulled out the phone I kept hidden in its drawer. I dialed the first number there and began pacing behind my desk and chair, waiting. The phone rang twice before a familiar voice filled the line.

"I need you to run a check. I’m looking for someone. A therapist. Michelle Oliver or something." I waved nonchalantly.

"You mean the one that was working on Bruce? You still didn’t manage to c***k him, did you?" The voice broke out into a laugh that caused anger to surge through me, prompting me to clench my fists again and grip the phone as though I could break it.

"This is why you have to leave things to the professionals like me. Don’t worry, I’ll find the girl. Dead or alive?"

"Alive," I barked into the phone. "I need her alive. And I want you to find out where he is too."

"No can do, boss man," the voice replied. "I don’t know how he does it, but that man does not want to be found, and there’s not much I can do about it. But I will try and find your girl. If she’s alive, she’ll pop up somewhere; if not, you’ll see her dead body soon enough."

"He took her," I spat into the phone. "He took her along with him."

"But I’ll find her trail. They don’t call me God’s Eye for nothing. I can see everything and I know everything. Just give me a couple of days, and I’ll find her paper trail. All these girls like to use social media. I’ll find something. She’s bound to let something slip. Remember, it’s going to be like that one time when that Cuban mafia girlfriend decided to post about her stupid stuff on i********:. Now that one was quite funny..." He began to gloat, causing me to roll my eyes and hang up the phone, completely uninterested.

"He’s here, sir." I turned around to Carla’s voice and found behind her the sheriff of the city jail that’s several miles on the outskirts of Atlanta.

"What do you have for me?"

He pulled out his laptop from behind him, opened it, and began walking toward me. Once close enough, however, the familiar scent of prison filled my nose, causing me to nearly wretch and gag. I held my breath until he sat a little away from me and began operating the computer.

"I have it here," the warden said as he leaned back and pointed his stocky fingers toward the screen.

"Good." I walked up to him. "Now, move." I nudged him out of the way using the tip of my finger, hoping that the smell wouldn't cling to me as well.

"What am I looking at here?" I folded my arms over my chest, watching as a man dressed in black walked up to a guard standing outside the prison. The two of them started talking for a moment until the man in black suddenly raised his hand and brought it down hard against the face of the prison guard, knocking him out instantly.

"I don't know how many of them there were, but they overpowered a few of our guards. We found them in the hospital a few hours later. It’s definitely his people. Unfortunately, we weren’t prepared," the warden said.