Page 4 of Hard Wired

Chapter Two

Dominic Crane had one leg draped over the back of the couch, his eyes fixed on the ornate plaster moldings on the ceiling. Chopin played on his stereo. God, he was bored.

How many days in a row had he spent exactly like this, with nothing better to do than feel disgusted with himself?

At this point, he might even welcome another attempt on his life, just for a break in the monotony.

His phone rang. It was his lawyer, Aaron Sandford. One of the few people who still contacted Dominic these days. He reached over to grab the device from the coffee table and answered.

“Yeah?”

“Dominic, how are you?”

Sandford pretended to kiss Dominic’s ass. But he knew the lawyer hated him. The feeling was mutual.

Sandford really worked for Dominic’s older brother, Warren. But Warren was in prison now, serving a sentence for tax evasion like a modern day Al Capone. Warren, at least, hadn’t written off Dominic altogether. If he had, then those attempts on his life probably would’ve been more successful.

“What do you want?” Dominic asked.

Sandford cleared his throat. “I just got a new offer from the district attorney’s office. They’ve sweetened their plea deal considerably. I’m obligated to let you know, even though I’m sure you won’t be interested. But this is a positive sign. It means they’re willing to negotiate. We can come up with a counter that would be more palatable.”

Dominic looked down at the ankle monitor strapped to his left leg. The band of black plastic itched. His skin was getting pale and shriveled underneath it. He’d been wearing the thing for the last several months, ever since he’d been granted bail.

“What’s the offer?”

Sandford coughed again. Either he had a buildup of phlegm in his throat, or he really didn’t want to pass this on. “They’re asking you to turn state’s evidence. Inform on those you used to work with in the Syndicate. Although, as usual, we deny there is any such organization as the ‘Silverlake Syndicate.’”

“Yeah, sure.” The “Syndicate” was a term for outsiders. To the Cranes, it was just the family business. A burden and responsibility Dominic had never wanted, as if he’d had a choice in the matter.

But now, Dominic was technically an outsider, too.

“What’s the rest?” he asked.

“Well, in exchange for your testimony bringing down the so-called Syndicate, they’ll grant you full immunity and witness protection. As I said, it’s not something you would ever consider. But I’ll keep working on them. At the very least, I should be able to loosen some of the conditions they put on your bail. Like the electronic monitoring and movement restrictions.”

“You do that.” Dominic wasn’t allowed to go more than thirty feet from the perimeter of his house in West Oaks. “I’m dying in here.”

“I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

Dominic didn’t even bother to say goodbye. He tossed his phone onto the table and put a hand over his eyes.

Rat out the Syndicate? Rat out his family?

The DA called him a criminal, and he’d definitely done bad things. Cruel things. Violent things. But only to people who’d deserved it. He drew the line at destroying the lives of innocents. For that reason, certain of his former allies had betrayed him. Called him weak. As if he didn’t have enough blood staining his hands that he sometimes thought he could still smell it.

In the power vacuum that had followed his ouster, half a dozen different factions within their group had begun warring for control. He didn’t even know who was in charge of the business at this point, if anyone was.

His own mind was at war with itself, too. A secret part of him wanted to just wash his hands of the Syndicate, like he’d tried to wash away the blood. He’d never wanted to take power anyway. But certain factions were now engaged in activities Dominic wouldn’t have countenanced. The darkest of Dark Web shit.

Did that mean he should try to seize back power? Not just to defend the Crane name, but to prevent some of those evils?

Like Warren had told him growing up—there’s always someone worse.

Or…did that mean he could flip on the scum taking over his family’s business? Would Warren be able to forgive him?

You’re seriously asking that?

“Fuck.” Dominic closed his eyes. He couldn’t believe those thoughts were actually passing through his brain. His uncles headed some of the warring factions. Not real Cranes—they’d married in—but still technically family.

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