Follow the crime rate.

Seemed strange when I first read it but a day of research later, I realized that Max was definitely onto something.

Chicago can be a dangerous place in a lot of ways but one neighborhood in particular stands out. The crime rate changed overnight in the mid-90s. What was once considered a very bad place to find yourself even in broad daylight is now a very thriving series of streets with popular internet businesses, daycare centers, and coffee shops — even a kink club, which also happens to be the longest-running business on the street, so that’s my first stop.

This place used to be crawling with gang activity. I’d bet good money these businesses are part of Argento’s protection racket.

I glance up at the wooden sign above a red doorway. The Red Brick Road. Truthfully, I’ve never heard of the place before. I’ve never had the time to get into kinky things and more tastes are more vanilla anyway, so I’m sort of nervous as to what I’ll find in here.

I step inside and, for a moment, I wonder if I somehow entered the wrong place. Like a dentist’s office, perhaps. If it weren’t for the path of red bricks leading to another very large red door, I would be lost.

“Can I help you, sir?”

I look at the desk in the corner. A middle-aged woman sits behind it with a mountain of paperwork scattered around her. She wears wire-rimmed glasses connected from a chain around her neck, along with a tight, padlocked choker digging into her throat, but otherwise, very normal-looking.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, stepping forward. “Are you Judith Barnes, by chance?”

“Judy,” she says, raising a brow as she looks me up and down. “Are you a cop?”

“No,” I answer with a smile, “just a lawyer.”

“That’s worse.”

I force a chuckle as I hand her my card. “Judy, I wondered if you’d answer a few questions for me.”

She eyes the card for less than a second before tossing it on her desk. “About?”

“Your business is the oldest on this street,” I begin. “You opened in ‘88, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are you familiar with a man named Angelo Argento?”

Judy raises her head slowly and slides her glasses off her nose. “Sure. Angie and I go way back.”

I raise a brow. “Angie?”

“Haven’t seen him in a while,” she says. “Heard he ran into some legal trouble.”

“He did.”

“Shame.”

“Why do you say that?”

She shrugs. “It’s the same thing I always say when this town loses one of their own.”

“Judy, it has come to the attention of the State’s Attorney that Mr. Argento has been extorting local businesses. Do you know anything about that?”

“Can’t say I do.” She doesn’t even blink. “Is that all?”

I step closer. “I understand that you might be hesitant to come forward but if you—”

“Sounds like a problem for the police department,” she says. “What’s a lawyer like you getting involved for?”

“It’s relevant to my current case,” I answer. “Mr. Argento has been a thorn in this city’s side for a long time. I want to help in any way I can.”

“Were you born in Chicago, Mr. ...” she picks up my card to read it, “Lance Tyler?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Where are you from?” she asks.

“San Francisco.”

Her nose curls. “Where’d you go to law school?”

“Harvard.”

She snorts and flicks the card away again. “Fuck off.”

“Excuse me?”

“I will not.” She stands up out of her chair. “Do you know what it’s like to live in fear, Mr. Tyler?”

I blink. “I can’t say I do.”

“I do. My neighbors and customers do. You’re not from around here but there was a time when this street wasn’t so easy to walk down. Close friends of mine were stabbed to death on the way to their cars just because the wrong person saw them walking out of here one night and decided they were trash. Drug wars, gang initiations. There was blood on the streets but the police didn’t care. The lawyers sure as hell did nothing.” She flexes his jaw. “But Angie did.”

“Then you admit that Mr. Argento owns this neighborhood?”

“And in exchange, we live without fear.” Her head tilts. “Small price to pay if you ask me.”

“So, you’re content with paying a percentage of every dollar to a gangster?” I ask.

“You’ll be lucky to find someone in this neighborhood who isn’t. Bad things happen here. It’s Chicago. But it was a whole lot worse twenty years ago and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna help some bushy-tailed Harvard brat take that away.” She crosses her arms. “Now, I’ll say it again and then I’m gonna get rude: Fuck off.”

I inhale to argue but the large red door opens beside us. A man steps inside, tall and muscular, carrying several broken-down boxes beneath one arm.

He pauses, his eyes bouncing between me and Judy. “Everything all right, Judy?” he asks.

“I have it under control, Clive,” she says, still glaring at me. “Mr. Tyler here was just leaving.”

I take a step back, giving the man a nod. “I’m sorry I bothered you, ma’am.”

Judy lets out a soft, annoyed grunt as she sits down and turns back to her paperwork.

I leave without looking back, quickly closing the door behind me as I step out onto the sidewalk. A cold chill passes by and I shove my hands into my pockets to stay warm. Dead end number one. Maybe one of these other businesses will be more helpful, unless her warning is true…

“Let me guess...”

I glance at the familiar, smug voice to my left and my anger spikes instantly.

Marcus stands there with his hands in his coat pockets, one foot propped back on the wall. A small bandage sits on his cheek where Trix scratched him up. Looks bad, too.

Good.

He has the audacity to smile at me. “She told you to fuck off, right?” he asks.

I keep walking but he juts off the wall to stand in front of me.

“Mr. Donner,” I say, “I’m the last person you want to mess with right now.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “And I’m not here to mess. I’m here to talk.”

“I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

“Since this is more of a listening exercise, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

I try to move around him but he steps in front of me again.

“Trust me, Mr. Tyler, if it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here.”

“And if it were up to me, you’d be in jail,” I say.

He nods. “To be honest, I’m surprised I’m not. But this isn’t about her. It’s about you.”

“More thinly-veiled threats?” I ask.

Marcus takes a few steps back and opens the door to the coffee shop next door. “Only one way to find out,” he says, gesturing inside. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee. I’ll say my piece. And then you can go on with your day.”

I hesitate but my curiosity wins out in the end. I step into the coffee shop and Marcus walks in behind me.

“Take a seat,” he says, passing by me on his way to the counter.

I exhale through gritted teeth. At least the place is well-populated. Don’t have to worry about getting whacked, I suppose.

I find an empty booth in the corner and sit down. A few minutes later, Marcus returns with two black coffees and sits across from me. He settles in and takes a quick sip from his mug, staring at me the whole time. Strangely, he’s not looking at me with hate and annoyance like he usually does.

He knows I’m on to something. This is respect.

“So, how’s Judy?” he asks me.

“She has a very high opinion of your employer,” I say.

“Most people do.” He taps the edge of his mug. “Obviously, you stumbled on a private arrangement Mr. Argento has with some local business owners. I’m here to formally request that you leave it that way.”

“Why would I do that?” I ask. “These people are being extorted.”

“And you wanna be the superhero, do you?” He smirks. “The glowing fist of justice for all the poor, helpless victims?”

“Your words, not mine.”

He bobs his chin toward the windows. “Take a look outside. What do you see?”

I glance outside, scanning the sidewalk. Parents walk by with smiling children carrying froyo cups and lattes. Not a single boarded up window or out of business sign. This place is thriving. No suspicious faces... or litter, now that I really look around.

I say nothing.

Marcus nods. “Do these people look like victims to you?”

“Is that your defense?” I ask. “Crime is fine as long as everyone’s happy?”

“No victim, no crime.” He shrugs a shoulder. “If a restaurant overcharges for a hamburger but the customer is full and satisfied, who loses?”

“The customer.”

“But if the customer is willing to pay for quality product, then what business is it of yours?” He takes another sip from his mug. “I understand where you’re coming from, Mr. Tyler. In fact, I admire your position, I really do, but you’re picking the wrong crusade here.”

“If you have some other crime you’d like to confess to, I’m all ears, Mr. Donner. Sexual assault, perhaps?”

He stares at me, unblinking. “Angelo protects this neighborhood,” he says. “They remember what it’s like without him. Right now, things are stable with the twins in charge... but if that changes, then you’ll have blood on your hands, Mr. Tyler. No one wants that. Not me, not you. Not Trix.”

“Don’t talk about her,” I warn.

“Does she know about your career aspirations?” he asks. “How would she react if she knew you were pursuing this?”

I bite down hard.

“She’s an Argento,” he continues. “She might not like that right now but she understands what’s at stake, no matter how good-natured she is. She seems oddly indifferent to the idea of you putting her father away but would she really feel the same if you went after her brothers, too? How long before you implicate her as an accessory? Where’s your line, Mr. Tyler?”

I don’t answer. I want to say she’d understand, that she’d want me to do what was right, but... am I really sure of that?

He shakes his head. “You might not believe this but Trix is important to me and not just because I get paid to think that way.”

“You’re right.” I nod. “I don’t believe that.”

“And that’s fine. Just like it’s fine that she chose you over me. I’ve accepted that. Not that my feelings for her are any of your concern anyway.”

I eye his cheek. “You’ve got a strange way of showing affection, Donner.”

“It’s no stranger than yours,” he says, leaning forward. “When exactly did locking up your girlfriend’s family replace a box of chocolates?”

I exhale with frustration.

He smiles for a second before letting it drop again. “You need to decide. Are you going to continue down this road?” he asks. “Are you going to take down Danny and Gavin, let these people truly become victims again, and lose Trix... all because you did what you thought was right? Is a better office on the top floor really worth that much to you?”

“What do you intend to do about it if I do?” I ask.

He stands up, taking his mug with him. “My advice, Mr. Tyler: pick a different crusade. This one won’t end well for anybody.”

“Ah.” I smirk. “There’s the threat I was waiting for.”

“If that’s what you want to call it. I prefer to think of it as... active motivation.”

I scoff.

“Just think about it,” he says. “That’s all I ask.”

Marcus turns away and walks out of the shop, leaving me here with my untouched cup of coffee.

I push it away, leaving it be, as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I reach in for it, hoping for some good news and my heart skips a beat as I read Trix’s name.

Can’t wait for tonight. Bring a white wine. It’ll go better with dinner. :)

I smile at the message. My Trix. The mere mental image in her lying beneath me, her knees resting on my shoulders while I fuck her into oblivion makes my chest tingle. It tingles even more when I think of her just sitting next to me on the couch, her head resting on my shoulder while we watch a movie.

Blissful ecstasy. Comfortable silences. Absolute perfection.

I have her. I can keep her — but would she really look at me the same if I pursued this case? Would I be able to look at myself in the mirror if I dropped it for my own selfish desires?

These people deserve someone who will speak for them... but do they already have that in Angelo? Do the good things bad people do balance the scales that much?

And if so, why is that so hard for me to believe?