by Anthology
“Relax, Tiger. This is business and I don’t want them knowing what it is. We are being videotaped, you get that right?”
“Well, all the more reason to give them a show,” I chuckled.
Lloyd frowned, so I grew serious for him. “What is it?” I asked, now totally engrossed with whatever it was that had surfaced.
“O’Connor is pretty damned sure there’s another one of you out there.”
“Say what? Not following.”
“He’s still gathering data from the State of West Virginia, but if what he’s discovered is confirmed, you have an identical twin out there. And his name is Duke.”
Chapter 17
AS A LAWYER, and a damn good one if I may say so myself, there was something incredibly satisfying at being the bearer of shocking news. Usually, I reveled in that Hollywood-type moment where the hero, aka "me," came rushing in, guns blazing, with revelations that threw every party involved in an uproar. I had never taken drugs but was certain the high I got could never equal any illegal substance. Hence, my preference for dramatic entrances.
In that moment, however, the thrill was sorely unaccounted for, leaving me only with an unbearable weight of guilt. Luke's emotions flashed across his face like street lamps through a windshield while driving at two hundred miles an hour.
Confusion.
Denial.
Shock.
Anger.
And then he just burst out laughing.
"Are you fucking with me, right now?" he roared out as he abruptly stood from his chair. The handcuffs bolted to the steel table impeded him from standing straight, his hands pulling unmercifully at the restraints.
"Keep it down, Luke. This is your "get out of jail" card so let's try not to reveal our deck before I am certain the judge has approved my request." The daggers aimed in my direction were probably supposed to scare me into some kind of submission but we weren't in the bedroom and out here? I ran the show. I was the big Kahuna. Glares and inappropriate language only spurred me on to squash my opponent.
"Keep calm? Keep calm, he fucking tells me!"
Okay, Mister Emotional needed to take a Prozac and chill the fuck out. "Yes, Luke. Well, unless you want me to go and let the men in blue do their thing? I know this is a shock but we do not have the luxury for a therapy session right now. Put your emotions on hold and let's get this done the right way. You got me?"
For what felt like too many long minutes, where probably only seconds passed, Luke glared my way. I did not flinch or lower my gaze. Instead, I stared right back sending him my strength as well as my determination. We would deal with the fallout of this revelation after he was back home, safe and sound.
Wait.
We?
Back home?
Okay, focus. This was not the time to over-analyze feelings or possibilities of forever-afters. Especially if my tattooed, biker criminal-slash-prince charming was about to spend the rest of his life behind bars. That prospect was definitely a romance killer.
"Alright, fine," he finally relented, "but we need to have an in-depth conversation about this shit and soon."
Nodding, I winked just as the police came back inside announcing that our time was up and heading straight to Luke to place him in holding.
Before they walked out, I gripped Luke's arm and stared right into his eyes hoping he would gather my strength and conviction that this would end perfectly well and before he found a new lover in the showers of maximum security prisons. "You hang in there, okay? I will get you out as soon as possible but do not speak to anyone without me and keep your temper in check. God knows we don't need to add assault to the list of charges."
I tried to smile to make light of the situation and thankfully, Luke snorted out a laugh to show his understanding. "Nah, I don't want to humiliate the NYPD with my mad skills." Removing my hand, I watched as they left the interrogation room.
As soon as he was out of sight, I made my way to the car, dialing Craig's number at the same time. He answered on the first ring. "Yeah," was the only greeting I got.
"Okay, meet me in my office right now. I want every single detail of what you found."
Chapter 18
I KNEW LLOYD was tripping about me being in the slammer for God knows how long, but I regretted the fact that the asshole cops hadn’t given us more time so that I could reassure him that I would be just fine. Hell, at my height and build, there wasn’t anyone in their right mind that would attempt to make me his “prison bitch.” Of course, I also knew that they’d have me in a holding cell at least until my arraignment.
Cabot had led me down the hallway and around the corner to where approximately ten holding cells were located right across from Central Booking. As soon as he’d slammed the barred door on mine, I had exercised one of my civil rights and requested paper, pen and an envelope.
“You’re just going to be a high maintenance pain in the ass, aren’t you Gunner?”
Finally, he brought me the requested items, and I sat back on my skinny cot and started penning a letter from jail to Lloyd. I had a genuine Johnny Cash moment there. But there were some important things that I needed to clue him in on that I hadn’t thought about in the two fucking minutes they’d given us before hauling my ass up to the holding cell. Hopefully, I could get this to him at the arraignment.
Lloyd,
If you could possibly keep Ma and Pop Gunner out of this it would be appreciated. I don’t think they’d be of help anyway. They think of me as their “golden” boy in a way. Hate to ruin all that for them. Also, per our earlier discussion, could you or Craig let Leonard know that his copy of ‘The Godfather’ is past due, and he’s racking up some late fees? Keep my side of the bed warm…L
I was hoping like hell that Lloyd recalled who Leonard was from our general debriefing in his office during my case review. I knew he had taken notes, so hopefully he would recall “Lenny the Shark” Nettleman and what his specific talents were. Someone on the inside had to have been involved in this, and the fact that Leonard had a penchant for dealing with lobbyists was just a short step away from a politician like Hastings. Aside from that, I had learned recently that Lenny had formed a business relationship with Wiley Coyote. Hopefully, when I was able to talk one on one with Lloyd again, we would be able to flesh all of that out.
A twin brother?
Duke…what the fuck was his gig?
I yelled for the deputy on duty, and when he showed, I handed him the unsealed envelope. “I didn’t bother to seal it, bro, cause I knew you all would want to take a peek before you contacted my attorney to send someone to pick it up. Enjoy.”
“Smart ass motherfucker, aren’t you Gunner?”
“Hey -- and don’t forget to seal that with a kiss,” I replied, giving him a sexy wink.
Chapter 19
WITH THE RETAINER safely hidden in my office safe ready to go to bookkeeping on Monday, it was just another day at the office, buried in paperwork. It was, however, unusual that I throw myself into only one case since concentrating on multiple clients was a recurrent scenario. But on that particular Sunday, my entire focus lay unwavering when it came to finding out the scheme, so obviously in place, concerning Luke.
Craig had kept his promise to keep me informed every hour. I did, of course, allow for him to catch some sleep time. I figured three hours, four tops, was amply enough to recoup and get back to his investigation. I was generous like that. What I was absolutely not, was patient and those three hours and forty-three minutes were hell on earth. An idle Lloyd was a nearly psychotic Lloyd. I needed to take a break and head over to the county jail and prepare Luke for the arraignment that would take place that same evening.
Everything was being accelerated, including procedure, in light of the victim's political position and the fact that the new Assistant District Attorney had his greedy eye coveting the D.A. spot since his boss was talking about retiring. At seventy-nine, it was probably about ass-sucking time. The man had been a nuisance in the sys
tem for the last thirty-some years. His racist views were barely hidden but always spun perfectly when it came to the press. Fortunately for the citizens of New York, District Attorney Jensen had never been ambitious enough to run for any other office. Putting the "scum of the earth" behind bars was enough to make his day. With more than fifty thousand inmates in the New York State prisons, Mr. Jensen was a proud cock, showing off his colorful bigot feathers. There was no way I would allow Luke to be counted among them.
I highly doubted my bail request would be accepted since they figured Luke was a high flight risk. I was convinced my lover was far from being a coward, which meant running from a challenge was probably missing from his DNA. With my Writ of Habeas Corpus almost typed up and ready to be filed, I gathered my docs, checked my computer screen to make sure I had logged out and dropped my eyes to my watch announcing it was three in the afternoon. With two hours left before the arraignment, I needed to hurry over to Luke to insure he knew the deal.
Briefcase in hand, I stepped out of the office and sent a small plea to the gods of justice, asking them to give me the strength needed to get my man out of this shit storm. My man. Yes, I liked the sound of that. With a tender smile on my face, I locked the door and plastered on my "Don't fuck with me" look for the world to see. Lloyd Ledbetter was about to put on the show of his life for what would hopefully be a grand cause. His own happiness and Luke's freedom.
***
"Well, well...look what my dirty fantasies dragged in." Those were Luke's first words to me as I walked inside the sardine box they affectionately referred to as the interview room. Of course, the walls, mirrors and ceilings all had ears and probably eyes so our conversation had been coded on Luke's end, confusing the hell out of me since thug-talk was beyond my realm of competence.
Prepping took no time but convincing him to keep quiet and let me do all the work was a bit more difficult. Having represented himself on a couple of his misdemeanor cases, Luke thought he was the next Perry Mason, using legal jargon to prove his point. I supposed a photographic memory was useful for lexical reasons but obviously not for strategy. You could talk the talk but it didn't mean you could walk like the champ I was. When it was time to leave, I stood and, without touching him, sent him a look that said many things...most importantly that I would get shit done.
What I wasn't expecting was the horde of media practically assaulting me as I walked the steps of the courthouse. I had been so preoccupied by the details of the case that I had forgotten the risk of vultures ready to pick off the pieces of “media meat.” Defending a man accused of kidnapping and murdering a State Senator made me America's most hated attorney. But then, I lived for this shit. With a grin that had oftentimes melted the panties of the fairer sex, I jogged up the stone stairs and turned to the microphones, staring straight at the cameras.
"Mr. Ledbetter, is it true your client murdered Senator Hastings?"
"Is he a flight risk?"
"Is it true you are long-time lovers?" Jesus, I didn't consider two days a long time but then to each his own, I supposed.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have no comment at this time. My only concern is to do my job to the best of my ability. If you'll excuse me, I must be in court now. Thank you." And voilà! Charming as usual even as I flipped the press my proverbial well-manicured middle finger.
So there I was, standing before the judge with the prosecutor off to my right, waiting for the police officers to bring in the accused after our case was called. Innocent until proven guilty was a myth in my business. The press served as judge, jury and executioner, all in one fell swoop. Unless, of course, you had Lloyd Ledbetter in your corner.
We all stood before the female judge that looked like she had fared a lifetime on the bench. The bridge officer called out our case, which was one in very few; Sundays were apparently slow in the criminal world. "Docket number 2015AS43192. People against Luke Gunner."
A couple of gasps echoed behind me, causing me to lift my head from Luke's file. There he was, looking haggard with his wrinkled clothes, three-day stubble and disheveled hair. Yet, the sexy smile he wore as his eyes locked on mine, actually had me blushing.
Damn him.
As he stood next to me, leaning in just enough to speak in my ear and with a voice that could make nuns shed their habit in a second, he said, "You look might sexy in your element, Counselor."
I had to swallow to keep from saying something stupid as Luke returned his gaze to the front of the room where the judge was about to begin the arraignment.
When asked, I waived the reading of the charges as per custom in New York. A novice, I was not and there was no way I would piss off the Court by not following tradition. Speedy trial and all that jazz.
I could feel Luke getting antsy as the judge reviewed the case, flipping pages over and, at one point, grunting as though she had just choked on a peanut. "Mr. Riggs, does the Prosecution have any notices?" Of course they would.
"Yes, Your Honor. The Prosecution has a One-Ninety-Fifty notice," he answered as he passed on the papers so I could file my copies.
This was no surprise, since Luke was accused of a felony, which meant he would be presented to a Grand Jury if this charade actually went to court. So, of course, I crossed the notice because I needed to make sure I reserved the right to have him testify if that were the case. "Cross One-Ninety-Fifty, Your Honor," I countered with a smirk thrown at my opponent.
"Duly noted, Counselor. Mr. Riggs, your statements, please?"
And...bring on the violins.
"Your Honor, we have here a case of murder one with abduction. The defendant's fingerprints and DNA were found at the scene of the crime. We consider the defendant a flight risk since he had already sought out asylum right after the disappearance of the victim was signaled. The Prosecution requests that bail not be granted."
Surprisingly, Riggs had toned down his usual theatrics, which had red flags going crazy in my mind. What the hell was he up to? He loved this as much as I, especially with the media right outside waiting for a piece of my client.
"Does the defense have any statements?" asked the judge, practically bored already.
"Yes, Your Honor. My client enters a plea of Not Guilty to all charges. We ask the court to set reasonable bail. As an Officer of the court, I would like to personally reassure this Court that the defendant is most definitely not a flight risk. The District Attorney's office has frozen all of his assets, which, I might add, were barely enough to pay his rent. At this time, my client is in the City and I will personally make sure he stays so that I may work his case to the best of my ability." Which was definitely saying something. "We would like to request bail to the sum that does not exceed ten thousand dollars."
Riggs snorted beside me, shaking his head at the absurdity of my demand. I knew it would not be accepted, not with the media circus outside but I needed to downplay the risks of Luke bolting the first chance he got. Judge Michard looked at me long and hard before she lowered her gaze to the file.
After ten seconds that seemed more like ten hours, Judge Michard said exactly what I was anticipating, "Request for bail is denied. The defendant is remanded into custody. The clerk will expedite all pre-trial motions and set the preliminary hearing at the earliest opportunity. Next case.”
Riggs chuckled behind me, shaking his head as though I were a rookie. Luke groaned as the officers approached before taking him back to the jail, but I was already ready to file my Writ of Habeas Corpus. After four minutes and thirteen seconds, the arraignment was over and Luke was, once again, led away from me.
"I'll be coming to see you soon, Luke. Stay out of trouble," I warned him as the officers clamped his biceps with their fingers and escorted him out. Luke, true to himself, just winked and let himself be manhandled.
I had to admit the fact that not one, but two men were touching what I was considering to be mine and it was starting to seriously piss me off.
Just as I was leaving the courthouse, a bailiff ca
lled my name. I turned as he approached, a sealed envelope in his hand.
“One of the deputies brought this over from the jail earlier. It’s from your client,” he said, as he handed it over. “I was instructed to make sure you got it after the arraignment.”
“Thanks,” I answered absently, taking the envelope from him.
Once outside, I opened the envelope and pulled out the paper and, judging by the scrawl, it most definitely was from Luke. But it might as well have been written in Klingon for all the sense it made to me. Yeah, I was never into the whole Trekkie thing.
Seriously, was this code? The first part made sense, he didn’t want his parents dragged into the mess; that was understandable. But what was this crap about a past due DVD racking up late fees?
Leonard?
The Godfather?
And then it hit me: It was code.
Leonard.
Lenny?
Lenny the Shark!
Chapter 20
THERE WASN’T A lot to do in lockup to pass the time. That much I had learned a long time ago. The real pisser is not even knowing how much time was passing while you wait to hear someone coming down the gangway; familiar footsteps, or voice, or the hint of his cologne. I could almost smell Lloyd’s cologne as I sat and waited.
The dark dankness of Manhattan’s Upper Eastside jail did nothing to improve my mood. I could only hope that Lloyd was making progress, although being that it was Sunday, I realized quickly nothing much was going to change until the courthouse was fully staffed tomorrow. Nothing to do but wait and hope that at the very least, he received my note and understood the message. Maybe he and Craig were digging into that aspect this very moment.
Common sense and instincts both told me this had all the ear markings of a conspiracy. But against me? That part wasn’t clear, but I know we had to start somewhere and Leonard was top on that list, followed by Wiley Coyote. I shook my head at the thought of the damage those two could do if they pooled their resources and criminal, sociopathic behavior.
