by Elle Thorpe
I launched myself at DeWitt, only to find strong hands around my biceps that hauled me back down onto my ass. I blinked in surprise. I hadn’t even seen DeWitt’s guys moving in around me.
DeWitt chuckled and waggled a finger in my face. “Now, now. No fighting in here, remember? You want to get us all thrown in the hole? I get it. You’re pissed off.”
I glanced over at the guards, but none of them were looking in our direction. DeWitt’s guys were huge. The rest of his gang subtly moved closer, pretending they were doing other things, and yet it was obvious to me that all of them were tense and ready to mobilize if their boss gave the word.
I was well and truly outnumbered.
But that did nothing to calm the rage inside me.
“Why?” I spat the word.
DeWitt shrugged, like he ordered hits every other day, and just for fun. “That bitch cop had been getting in my way for too long. I got her partner on the take, but she was all high and mighty, and full of morals.” He rolled his eyes. “Bitch thought she was better than me. Smarter than me. She was making trouble, so she had to go.”
DeWitt patted me on the knee, and I fought the urge to slap his hands away, my mind racing. Boston had been Jayela’s partner for as long as I’d known her. DeWitt had him on the take? For how long? Had he known there was a hit out on Jayela? Boston had always been a good guy, and he and Jayela had made the perfect team. It was impossible to believe the man could have been dirty or had a hand in the murder of his partner.
But Boston was hardly my biggest concern right now.
DeWitt might be full of shit. Why on earth would he just announce what he’d done, if not to make himself look big in front of the other inmates? They all did it. Talking shit about the crimes they’d done, blowing them out of proportion until they were so ridiculous they could have been straight out of a telenovela. Anything for a bit of street cred.
But fuck… If it was true, DeWitt had just given me a way out of jail. And right now, I needed that hope. “You have to tell someone. Dammit, DeWitt. I could end up with an injection in my arm for this. You gotta testify. You gotta tell someone that this was your gang and not me.”
DeWitt stroked his chin, mulling that over. The man was clean-shaven, and his fingers pulled over his flabby jowls. “I see your predicament. Truly. I do. I’m not unsympathetic. But here’s my problem. I don’t think I’m gonna be telling anyone that, because that’ll shine a dirty old spotlight onto my guys on the outside. And even though I’m in here, I got a business to run. I don’t need no media attention, or no cops at my house. I don’t need none of that. So I’m not really seeing much appeal in testifying on your behalf.”
“You son of a bitch—”
“Such language. Like I said, I’m not unsympathetic.” He looked around, commanding the attention of the other men without even trying. “He’s with us. You all hear that? He’s under my protection. Nobody touches him. Nobody gives him a hard time. Michaelson here is my new best just buddy. Capiche?”
“Boss, but—”
DeWitt held up a hand, silencing his second-in-command, the tattooed guy who followed him around like a shadow. “Don’t want to hear it. My word is law. We all know that, don’t we?” He said it so sweetly, it was practically a song. And yet there was an undertone beneath it that almost dared him to argue. He backed down immediately.
Once again, I was awed by the power DeWitt commanded in here. And wondered who the hell this man was on the outside.
18
Mae
I tossed and turned all night, and by the time dawn arrived the next day, I was still thinking about Heath. I could still feel the warmth of his chest at my back, his arms tight around me, holding me close. But every time I thought of him, I thought of where he was. I thought of him sleeping on some shit-tastic prison mattress, in a bleak cell, with no hope he’d ever be released. By the time I got out of bed and showered, I knew what I had to do. I groaned, and it echoed off the tiles in my bathroom. “Of all the people.”
The elementary school had signed me off for the rest of the school year on bereavement leave. So I had nowhere to be until my two-hour shift at the prison in the evening, and no reason not to drive into the city and park outside Simonson Lawyers and Partners. I stopped in the lobby, found the right floor from the listing on the wall, and took the elevator to level three.
The receptionist lifted her gaze when the elevator binged, announcing my arrival.
“Good morning. Do you have an appointment?”
“No. I don’t. Is there any chance I can speak to Liam Banks, though, please? It’s quite urgent.”
The woman frowned, delicate lines creasing her forehead. “Mr. Banks has a full schedule for quite some time. His first available appointment is in six weeks on a Tuesday. Would that be suitable?”
I opened my mouth to tell her that no, it wouldn’t be suitable, when Liam appeared from the office behind her. His gaze slammed into mine, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Mae? What are you doing here?”
I wanted to cringe. This was awkward. I didn’t want to lead with, “I really need your help to get a confessed murderer off his charges.” But since that was why I was here, I didn’t have much else to open with.
The receptionist cut me off before I could even say anything. She bristled, spinning on her chair to face Liam. “I was just telling the young lady that you’re completely booked up until the middle of summer.”
Liam shook his head. “I think I’ve just had an opening become available.” He held his office door open for me. “Come on in.”
I smiled politely at the receptionist as I skirted her desk, and she scowled back at me.
Okay then. We obviously weren’t going to be friends.
Liam’s office had a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that overlooked the city. I wandered over to it, ignoring the chairs at his desk and the armchair and couch set to one side. “Tori wasn’t wrong when she said that you were the best of the best then, huh? You don’t get an office like this by being average.”
There was a beat of silence, and I turned back to face him.
He perched on the edge of his desk, watching me, his arms crossed over his chest in much the same way he’d stood leaning on his car after my sister’s funeral. I wondered if there was a reason for it. Did crossing his arms like that give him some sort of sense of protection or was it just because his biceps looked really frigging good in that position? I tried to talk myself out of staring, but it was hard not to.
“It’s not the nicest one in the practice. The senior partners have those. But it’s not bad.” He cocked his head to one side, not noticing my ogling, or at least not commenting on it.
“Not trying to be rude, Mae. But I am kind of wondering why you’re here. Need to sue someone?” He grinned and cracked his knuckles. “I really hope you need to sue someone. Because I love that shit. It’s not really what I do, but hey, for you, I’m willing to get my hands dirty.”
If only it were as simple as suing someone. “Not exactly. Do you also by any chance love getting pending murder charges dropped? Kinda hoping you love that shit, too.”
He raised one eyebrow. “I’m going to go out on a limb and assume it wasn’t you who murdered someone?” He held his hand up in a stop motion. “Actually, just in case it was, don’t tell me. Despite what the movies tell you, you really can’t tell me you murdered someone if I’m going to defend you. Even I have more morals than that.”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Just out of interest, who do you think I would have murdered?”
“Well, I haven’t seen you much over the past few years, so I can really only go off what you were like in high school. So…if we’re working on that assumption, I probably would guess it was me you’d murdered. But since I’m still alive, there’s a few holes in the theory.”
“I didn’t hate you enough to murder you. For the record.”
“Good to know. I feel much safer now that I’m not wondering if you plan
to stab me in the chest with a stapler.” His tone was playful, but then the smile slowly fell, and he waited patiently for me to actually explain myself.
“It’s Heath.”
“Heath…” He picked up a yellow legal pad and scribbled something on it with an expensive pen.
“Michaelson? He is currently in prison, waiting on his trial. They wouldn’t give him bail.”
I could see the moment that Liam fit it all together. “Are you talking about the guy who admitted to murdering your sister?”
I cringed. “Yes?”
He moved across the room and took me by the arm, guiding me to sit on the couch. “Are you actually insane?”
“Why does everybody keep asking me that?”
He peered at me over the top of his black-rimmed glasses. “Because you talk the crazy talk! It’s not very often I get somebody who walks in here and asks me to get their sister’s murderer out of jail. In fact, it’s normally quite the opposite.” He peered around him, as if he were looking for someone. “Huh. I was semi-expecting a Jerry Springer set to rise out of the office floor. Or maybe Ashton Kutcher to jump out from the closet and start a Punk’d revival.”
I pulled a face at him. “Hilarious. So can you help me or not?”
“Tell me more about this guy.”
Liam pushed off the couch, moving by me to sit behind his desk. He was suddenly all business, and I followed him, dragging out the seat on the other side of his desk and sinking into it. I mimicked his posture, sitting up straight and folding my hands on my lap. I had his full attention, his gray gaze sweeping over me. There was nothing sexual about it, but I still found myself slipping back into that high school version of myself who had thought he was so cute. Ten years hadn’t changed that. Just because I’d thought he was an arrogant prick back then didn’t mean I’d been blind. And teenage hormones were no joke.
Apparently twenty-seven-year-old hormones were no joke either.
But mentally undressing him wasn’t why I was here.
I racked my brain for information I could supply him about Heath. But I realized quickly that I didn’t know much that would actually be of help. “I don’t know what to tell you. He dated my sister for a few months about four years ago. He’s a really good guy. Jayela wouldn’t date someone who wasn’t. He grew up in Saint View, he has an apartment there now.”
Liam glanced up from scribbling on his legal pad. “Saint View? I don’t do pro bono.”
I bristled at his judgment. “Jesus Christ, could you be any more of a snob? Who asked you to do it pro bono?”
“I’m not a snob. Well, actually, that’s a lie. I am. I’m sure your murderer friend is really nice and all, but if he lives in Saint View, he can’t afford me. The best don’t come cheap.”
I couldn’t help the snort. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you? And this right here, is exactly why I didn’t like you when we were at school.”
“No. You didn’t like me because I never asked you out.”
My mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?” Heat rose up the back of my neck, and I prayed with all my might that it would stay there where he couldn’t see it. Because if it traveled to my cheeks and let him know there was probably some truth in those words, I would be mortified. “I… Never… I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Liam grinned at me. “Yeah, you do. You had a whopping big crush on me. It’s okay. Everybody did.” He winked.
I faked a gagging sound, while I clutched my fingers around my neck. “Seriously. I’m choking on the secondhand embarrassment. I can’t breathe. Your ego is suffocating me.”
He picked up his pen again. “Comes with the territory. You can’t do this job without an ego. Just the way it is. And like I said. I don’t do pro bono.”
For a second I thought about walking away. I thought about telling him he could stick his ego where the sun didn’t shine and that I’d find another lawyer. But I could already see he was right. A great lawyer wasn’t going to do this job pro bono. And then where would I be? If I walked out of this office right now without securing Liam’s services for Heath, I’d be right back where I started, only slightly more annoyed and slightly more turned on, than I had been when I arrived in the reception area.
Freaking Liam.
“I’ll pay you.”
“Don’t want your money. That’s a losing case if ever I saw one. Don’t really want my name attached to it, you know? My name has value.”
“Can you just take the job before I roll my eyes so hard I have a seizure? Seriously. I’m concerned for my health here.”
He chuckled and ran his pearly white teeth over his bottom lip. Shit. Why was that so hot? Dammit. I bet he knew it, too. It was probably a ploy to see if I actually was harboring old feelings for him. Which I wasn’t. Totally not at all.
Stupid Liam and his stupid cute face.
“Nope.”
Worry had me clenching my fingers in the fabric of my dress. I really had no other plan if he didn’t accept this proposal. I didn’t know why, but I hadn’t planned on him not wanting the job. I kept seeing Heath’s desperate gaze in the back of my mind and knew I had to try harder. A gut feeling told me that if the shoe had been on the other foot, Heath would have done it for me. “Fine. You don’t want my money. What do you want?”
“A date.”
I blinked. “With me?”
“No. With Victoria Beckham. But since I suspect she’ll turn me down, what with David being such a fox and all, I suppose I can settle for a date with you.”
I frowned. “Isn’t this completely inappropriate? Pretty sure you took some sort of oath that said you can’t ask out your clients.”
“You’re not my client.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“No. You’re trying to get Heath to be my client. I’m just trying to help you sweeten the deal.”
“I think most people call that blackmail.”
“Maybe so. Hey. Do you think that’s why people hate me so much?” He chuckled as if the idea of people actually truly hating him was completely ridiculous. And it kind of was. He was annoyingly charming. And let’s face it. That sixteen-year-old girl inside me? She was squealing loudly. She wanted a date with Liam Banks so bad.
“Fine. But it’s not a date.”
“Fine. Call it what you want. Call it a catch-up between two old friends.”
“Have you already forgotten that I hated you in school? We weren’t friends.”
Liam threw his hands up in the air. “Fine. Let’s just call it a catch-up with somebody I met a super depressing funeral.”
“Sorry my sister’s funeral was such a downer for you.”
“Apology accepted.”
“So you’ll do it? You’ll take Heath’s case?”
He sighed. “Yeah. I’ll do it. But just so you know? In all seriousness. I don’t think even I’m a good enough lawyer to get him off a murder he admitted to. And as you’ve already pointed out, I’ve got a pretty healthy ego.”
I bit my lip as I left his office, hating that he was probably right.
19
Heath
“Michaelson. Stick with me today. You’ve been in as long as I have, and you haven’t properly met all the guys yet. Randall here is thinking you don’t like us. But I keep telling him you’re just shy.” DeWitt leaned on the cinderblock wall of the corridor, eyeing my prison-issued workout clothes. Or more likely, imagining what was beneath them.
Randall sniffed in my direction, punctuating his leader’s words.
I’d grown used to DeWitt’s constant sexual innuendo, and I was even more bored with it now than I was in the beginning. He didn’t intimidate me. I knew I could hold my own if it was just him and me. But I was well aware that inside this place, DeWitt was popular, and I had no one. He’d been reminding me of that as often as he could. He might have called a temporary truce between us for now, but I knew he could change his mind at any time.
It wasn’t enough for me to w
ant to hang out with him when I didn’t have to, though.
“Pass. Need to run.”
DeWitt’s lips pressed together in a scowl.
Randall sneered in my direction. “He’s got better things to do than talk to us. His loss.”
I didn’t care what Randall thought. They were all sheep. Lemmings, following each other over the cliff. Everybody in this place agreed with whatever DeWitt said. I still wasn’t exactly sure why the man wielded as much power as he did, but it wasn’t something I was losing any sleep over.
Mae on the other hand… I was losing all my sleep over her.
We had to line up at the exit in pairs, like a group of five-year-olds on their first day of school, but when the guards opened the doors, and the sunlight and fresh air rushed in, it actually was like being a kid again. The excitement was real. I wasn’t the only one who hurried out, but where most of the others headed straight for the weight equipment or the picnic benches where they’d sit in groups chatting like eighty-year-old women at the hairdressers, I headed straight for the fence and started up a jog around the perimeter.
I’d never much liked jogging on the outside, but this was as close to alone time as I could get now. The sun was my one saving grace in the never-ending sea of ugly gray cement. There weren’t enough windows inside the prison for my liking, and the lack of natural light to someone who normally spent all of his days working outside was a prison sentence in itself. The muscles in my legs sang with pleasure, and I twisted side to side, trying to get some movement through my torso again.
Across a wide walkway, the door to the women’s prison opened, and straight lines of inmates filed into an identical courtyard to the one we were in. Randall, and a couple of the other guys on my side, young and white beneath their sleeves full of colored tattoos, lazily got up from the picnic bench, overstated swagger in their gaits as they made their way over to the fence.
