Mob Justice by Chad Boudreaux (EXCERPT)

Hello, dear readers! Today we have an exciting new excerpt for you from thriller writer Chad Boudreaux’s latest novel, Mob Justice!

This explosive sequel to Scavenger Hunt finds our hero, Justice Department lawyer Blake Hudson, taking on a new enemy: the Chicago mafia. Heading from Washington DC to Chicago plunges him into a world far different from both his experiences outwitting terrorists and the depiction of mobsters he’s only ever encountered on the screen. Al Capone might still cast a long shadow, but organized crime has evolved into something more profitable and more dangerous than ever.

At the heart of the Chicago Outfit is the polished, cunning consigliere known as Enzo Renzi, who is Blake’s main target when the latter arrives in the Windy City. A meeting of several prominent Mafia families is in the offing, and Blake plans to have his boots on the ground to help build up a federal case to help take them down. But shadowy characters are gunning for both Enzo and Blake. Soon, Blake will have to put his life on the line once more to stop something far more sinister and pervasive than the usual mob violence.

Read on for a scene-setting excerpt! (with the caveat that I, too, am a fuddy-duddy who believes in leash laws, primarily for the safety of the animal):

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Fuddy-duddies strolling the National Mall with sticks and scowls dared not instruct Blake to leash his well-trained Great Dane. Judge stood over six feet on his hind legs and weighed one hundred fifty pounds before breakfast. Placing a leash on this gentle giant would prove futile and counterproductive. Judge respected freedom but viewed restraints as surmountable challenges. In keeping with the spirit of the DC ordinance, Blake carried a short leash for optics. That didn’t comfort tourists but appeased the resident rule followers.

Of course, Blake would never forget the blue moons when Judge lost his mind, such as the time a freckled preschooler on a field trip approached Judge with an ice cream sandwich in one hand and a fudge pop in the other. That didn’t end well. Nonetheless, despite the angst,
yelling, and tears accompanying that incident, no one suffered permanent damage. Blake had admonished Judge for his intemperance, muttering under his breath, “Put your own spoiled kid on a leash” while wiping ice cream from the dog’s whiskers. Such are the ties that bind man and
man’s best friend.

Judge’s black coat remained matted from neck to tailbone, a reminder of permanent scars and darker times—of Operation Scavenger Hunt and the depravity of mankind. Though the dog’s wounds hadn’t fully healed, and he remained dispirited, his stamina had returned. Blake had jogged from Capitol Hill with Judge at his side. The Dane had regained his swagger, prancing down the Mall like the royal guard marching in the courtyards of Buckingham Palace.

Approaching the Lincoln Memorial, Blake thought about his upcoming trip to Chicago with dread. Travel gave him heartburn. Blake’s homelife had settled down, and he sensed his relationship with Natasha nearing a fork in the road where serious discussions loomed. What’s more, members of Congress knowing his schedule left him feeling vulnerable, and Morgan acting like a reckless West Point cadet rather than a responsible prosecutor caused him concern. He longed for a boss who’d manage without surprises, allowing for stability in his private life. No one yet had scratched that itch.

But would his new boss ask Blake to risk his life again, this time against a different kind of killer? Terrorists killed indiscriminately, but mobsters took things personally and defined leniency as killing without torture. Terrorists preferred quick and deadly explosions, while mobsters sent messages through slow and painful deaths. Furthermore, Blake resented his government’s failure to clear him of wrongdoing for past service. Loyalty worked both ways, or it didn’t work at all. Looking over the iconic monuments on the Mall, he reflected on how his clandestine team’s heroics several months ago had protected thousands from rule-defying fanatical killers.

Despite Blake’s resistance to traveling to Chicago, he realized that spending a few days away from Main Justice investigators appealed to him. Prosecuting dangerous gangsters wasn’t without significant risk, but he didn’t work at Burger King—serving his country required embracing risks. As well, he wanted to win, and remote electronic surveillance had limitations. To build a successful criminal case against the mafia, they needed boots on the ground. Relying solely on monitoring from the nation’s capital wouldn’t get the job done.

Before reaching the memorial, Judge began to huff and puff. Blake eased their pace to a slow walk, savoring the therapeutic crunch of pebbles under his shoes and the euphoric high from intense exercise. As they arrived at the western end of the Reflecting Pool, a familiar woman captured the scene. She sat near the marble columns at the top of the steps, her auburn hair flowing in the wind as Abraham Lincoln watched over her like a protective guardian.

“Good boy,” Blake said, patting Judge as they reached the foot of the steps. “You see anyone familiar?” Judge scanned the horizon as if he understood the words. “Do you see Natasha? Natasha.”

Untethered, Judge galloped up the steps like a unicorn climbing a rainbow. Blake let him go, smiling as he watched in amazement. Tourists, forming a colorful mosaic around the monument, stared in disbelief. Some gasped, others grabbed their children. Most stood wide-eyed and paralyzed as the majestic black beast leaped up the granite and marble steps toward the statue of the sixteenth president.

The young woman in blue jeans and a white T-shirt remained calm as Judge approached. She extended her arms and said, “Come here, big baby,” as Judge barreled into her. She seized his neck and rolled him onto his back. The initial shrieks from awestruck onlookers evolved into murmurs of delight. “Did you miss me?” Natasha whispered, holding Judge’s head close to her face. “Did you go for a run with your daddy?” Judge’s powerful bark echoed inside the monument’s chamber. “Don’t bark at me. Don’t you dare bark at me. Whisper.”

Judge complied, issuing a soft, muffled sound.

Natasha smiled, and he licked her face before she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“I’m not jealous,” Blake said, arriving on scene, “but he’s always in the doldrums around me. I guess he blames me for others hurting him.”

“We have you in common, so I guess misery loves company.”

“Wow,” Blake said, kissing Natasha on the forehead. “You’re ruthless. Never dull, that’s for sure.”

“Speaking of never dull,” she replied, “I got your message. Off to Chicago tomorrow? Just like that?”

“Eleventh-hour boondoggle,” he said as they watched the orange and blue sky settle over the majestic Capitol two miles east.

“What’s the purpose of the trip?” she asked, grabbing his hand. Judge lay beside them, his head resting on his large paws, his ears twitching occasionally in response to distant sounds.

“Mafia families have a big meeting coming up, and Morgan thinks it’ll be easier for us to build a case if we’re near the action.”

“You told me you’d leverage the Chicago FBI.”

“True, but nothing prevents me from finding out more about the Chicago Outfit’s consigliere’s background. Morgan wants me focused on that guy for now, as we try to build a case against the whole lot of them.”

“Sounds like a job for an FBI special agent.”

“He and I both clerked for the Supreme Court,” he said, referencing Enzo, “so I should know more about him. We clerked at different times and for different justices, but our alumni group’s tight. His name sounds familiar, but—”

“What did you say his name was?”

“Enzo Renzi.”

“In Italian, Enzo means ‘the Victorious,’” Natasha said, showing off her fluency in one of many languages she’d mastered. “Or ‘Ruler of the House.’ One could interpret it either way.”

“We’ll see how victorious Enzo is when DOJ rolls into town. He does sound intriguing—attended some ultra-secret school called the Collection Agency.”

Natasha squeezed his hand. “What exactly is your role in this?”

“Worried about me?”

“You’re not a special agent, Blake. You can’t just roll out of bed one day and play Sherlock Holmes. There exists an entire world—blind to you—of established strategies and tactics.”

“I appreciate all the cloak-and-dagger intrigue, but—”

“But nothing. This is real life, and you’re untrained in the art and science of surveillance and countermeasures. They have guns, and you have a law degree.”

“I’m talking about basic prosecutor work, which sometimes includes asking questions.”

“You can’t stroll around South Chicago asking questions about mob-types. You’ll end up floating in a vat of chemicals or face down in the wastewater.”

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From Mob Justice by Chad Boudreaux. Copyright © 2026 by the author and reprinted by permission.

Mob Justice by Chad Boudreaux was published today March 17 2026 by Morgan James Fiction and is available from all good booksellers.