Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  “I don’t want to fucking talk about her right now.”

  Settle down, boy. She felt triumphant that he was listening.

  “Don’t talk. Just hear me out. Other than her desire to give a blow job to the enemy, you know two things: She’s deliberately keeping you out of the loop, and she’s stated her intention to screw Ben over. You’re up to speed with how low she’ll stoop. Where do you think she is right now?”

  “I’d hope for hell.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But wouldn’t you want to beat her to Ben?”

  He pulled his tie from her hands. “She’s not scheduled to meet him today.”

  “Are you still fuddled and too PO’d to think logically?” She held his jacket out to him. “Eff her schedule. She clearly doesn’t stick to it. Besides, she snuck in a request to see Ben and didn’t tell you about it, remember?”

  “Eff?”

  Roxie shook the jacket at him. “Going cold turkey on profanity. Anyway, I’d bet my bottom dollar she’s bee-lining to Ben so she can start propaganding him not to listen to you. If she’s not, then who cares? She clearly doesn’t care what happens to Ben, and you do. So, yes, you need to get going.”

  He ripped the jacket from her hand and stepped closer. With just enough pressure to show he meant business, he cupped her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “I don’t need you to orchestrate how I perform my job. I advise you to cease telling me what to do.”

  Caught in his direct and unrelenting gaze, Roxie faltered a little. It wasn’t an intimate gesture, but the bossiness of his touch elicited zaps of excitement on her skin. For a moment…until she sobered enough to ignore his touch.

  She’d been in his shoes before. Several times in her life, she’d had a wild-eyed, frantic reaction to trauma. Fifteen years ago she’d been colossally heartbroken after she lost her parents and younger sister in a car accident. In and out of unstable foster homes, she’d been hysterically fearful and violent-tempered when she was threatened and almost abused. When Rory and Hazel, the foster parents who became her second family, unexpectedly passed away from cancer, old scars of loss were ripped open again.

  Life was a stubborn bitch. It was almost unbearable to fathom a step of action past the ugliness of life. With his intense reaction to watching his ex-wife go down on an unattractive older man, it was clear as day Grant still pined for his former spouse. It had to burn a unique hole in his heart to have had to watch that. And she felt sorry for him. But her compassion would be wasted if she cooed and coddled him.

  He had a case to win.

  “Then you tell me. What do you need to do? Throw a few more useless objects at the wall? Call her another litany of curse words and creative names? Beat your chest? What good will it do? Will it help Ben?”

  He gripped her chin tighter.

  “Shit happens, Grant.” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I owe you a quarter. Listen, I don’t blame you one bit. We were spectators to a disturbing event involving your ex and another man. I’ve never been married, but I understand you must still miss her, want her, loathe her moving on, whatever. It has to be difficult to imagine her with someone else. However, I sympathize more with Ben. Maybe he shouldn’t be, but he’s facing life in prison. So eff her, Grant. Man up and get your game face on.”

  After a moment of heavy silence, he tilted his head. “Man up?” He slid his thumb along her jaw.

  Oh my. Since when was she aroused by dominating, stiff-backed men? She licked her lips and inhaled a shaky breath.

  “Yes,” she said. She refused to let him affect her like this. He was smoking. He was sizzling even after his emotional outburst—more human somehow. And she’d be damned if she’d give in to her attraction.

  He’s still the boss. Off. Limits.

  She slipped her hands to his collar to straighten it. “Man up and get your ass out there to talk to Ben.”

  He took his hand from her chin and slipped his jacket on. “That’s two quarters.”

  “Maybe I should start a tab with you.”

  He sighed and gave her a once over. “After you. I’ll drive this time.”

  They left the office, leaving many dubious and nosey glances behind. Roxie could hardly fault the office members’ curiosity. It couldn’t have been quiet on the floor when he’d been yelling and breaking down like a radioactive bomb.

  Chapter Six

  Grant didn’t speak until he was steering his black BMW through the chaotic, busy streets. “You were incorrect. It’s not difficult to imagine her with someone else.”

  Roxie lifted her attention from her phone, startled at his blurted comment. “Thought you said your previous marriage isn’t up for discussion.”

  He seemed to contemplate her comment. “Consider this a lecture. Not a discussion.”

  “Let me guess, you caught her cheating.”

  “I don’t care to be informed of your guesses. But yes, I’ve always suspected her of infidelity.”

  Does he ever lighten up and not talk like a…lawyer? “I’m sorry, but you’re probably better off without her.”

  “I said lecture. Can’t you ever be quiet for a moment?”

  She folded her hands together and gave him her full attention.

  “She’s a manipulative woman. If she’s fucking Henry, she’s using him for something.”

  Roxie could only wonder what that statement meant about him. What had Tara wanted to manipulate Grant for, if she had gone all the way to marry him?

  “It’s been rumored she’s seeking a position in the DA’s office. And now I have confirmation of her plan.” He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “She’s going to expend no energy into this case.”

  No, really? “Uh huh,” she said, assuming he was talking out loud to clear his head and organize the facts.

  “Her personal ambitions are not allowed in this case. I forbid it. She wants to switch teams, then good riddance.”

  “How humble of you.”

  He slanted her a look. “You will not mention this to anyone. At the firm. To Ben. Anyone. What we saw today stays in Henry’s office. Do I have your promise to keep this confidential?”

  She shrugged. “Sure. I’m not privy to all these quantum inner office politics and secret gossip chains. It is only my first day. But why the need for secrecy?”

  “Tara is the chair’s niece. Her family’s firm.”

  “Ah. Nepotism?”

  “Bingo. It would be my word against hers that she’s supporting the prosecution’s efforts. And I’m….” He inhaled deeply. “My word isn’t worth much anymore. I was a less than stellar employee for the firm before my personal leave. I hate to admit it, but the only reason I hope I have clout with getting Ben’s case under my control is because he knows me. He wanted to hire me when he was arrested.”

  That rough patch Lia mentioned had cost him. “Won’t hear a peep out of me. But why shouldn’t we tell Ben? Wouldn’t it be considerate to warn him Tara’s forking him over to the sharks?”

  “We don’t need to tell him because he won’t listen to her.” Grant pulled into the parking lot of the jail. They exited the car and entered through the front doors. “The only thing that’s changed is we need to do everything ourselves.”

  Roxie smiled at his use of plural pronouns. “Because you can’t trust her?”

  He nodded and then sighed. “Most of the groundwork and information gathering will come from Chris, whom I do trust, not Tara. She’s never actually done the research on her cases herself, but keeping her at arm’s reach will require more care.”

  Roxie followed him through security, a routine she was sure she’d be getting used to in his employ. He secured her a visitor’s badge and she signed the forms for the attendant.

  “They’re in the second conference room,” the guard said as he stood from his desk. “This way, please.”

  “Excuse me?” Grant followed.

  The guard paused and checked the clipboard he carried. “Aren’t you with Kaniz & Associates
? Ben Rohn’s representation?” He glanced at them. “The rest of your party arrived twenty minutes ago.”

  If there was ever a time Roxie wanted to say ‘I told you so’, that was it. Tara was already meeting with Ben.

  “Of course.” Grant gritted his teeth and waved for the guard to continue. “Ms. Kaniz is always the punctual one.”

  In her times as a rebellious and slightly troublesome teen, Roxie had spent a minor portion of time in juvenile detention. Psychologically lost in the aftermath of losing her family, she’d ended up completing community service for smash and grabs as well as vandalism—testing the limits of her youthful energy with no parents to discipline her.

  She remembered the hallways of the juvenile facilities were drab, dirty, and in need of maintenance. Lights didn’t match, most were burned out. Floors were scuffed with elderly dust collections in every corner. Guards and officers were often absent on smoke breaks. With those less than pretty images in her memory, she had expected the same of the adult facility.

  Apparently, the harder the crimes and the bigger the person, the better the buildings. Guards stood posted at nearly every corner of the hallway, everyone in clean uniforms, standing with rigid military-like postures. Tile floors gleamed under clear radiant lighting. Other suit-clad men passed Grant and they raised their chins in brief, professional acknowledgements.

  The further they moved into the building, Roxie could only wonder what it was going to be like to meet a professional basketball player. And she wasn’t just going to encounter him as a passerby who could never relate to his fame, she was going to speak to him, and potentially help get him out of jail. She’d never known any celebrities. Unless winning racehorses and greyhounds at Jimmy’s ranch counted. Too busy with motherhood and school, she’d never really cared for tabloids and the so-called stars of the world.

  But she was familiar with Ben Rohn. Everyone from the depths of metropolises to the jungles of the Amazon knew Ben Rohn. He wasn’t just an excellent player, a man who made millions dribbling an orange sphere down a court. He was the superstar of basketball, a legend. Up in the ranks of Michael Jordan and LeBron James.

  His name was frequently in the news for multiple reasons. Lately, for the murder charges, obviously. Sports commentators ceased to shut up about his upcoming contract renewal. Talk shows still made mention of his argument with Josh Warren at last year’s ESPY awards ceremony. Newspapers never failed to print their pages without references to Atlanta’s star guard and larger than life badass.

  The guard stopped at a door and unlocked the metal pad where a doorknob would have been located. Grant held a hand up for Roxie to proceed him into the room.

  Oh, a gentleman now. She went forward and he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her into the room.

  Seated at a simple dark table, Tara scowled at their arrival. In a light blue jumpsuit with black letters stitched on the chest, the infamous NBA player sat across from Tara. Ben glanced up at Grant and scoffed.

  “Well, look what the cat dragged in. Finally decide to show up after all?” Ben said, folding his hands together from the slack allowed from the handcuff chain to his chair.

  “I ran into some difficulties.” Grant stepped forward and took a seat furthest from Tara. He indicated for Roxie to sit next to him.

  Nice. Like I want to be a buffer between them.

  Ben snorted, but shook his hand. “Don’t know why you bothered to trouble yourself coming down here. Thanks for calling me Monday, but why don’t you go back to your bottle? Dad said you’ve been pissing away your cases before you ran off to God knows where. I don’t need a half-ass attorney.”

  Still standing, Roxie looked to the ceiling. How many times were people going to rib him for taking a personal leave? She didn’t know much about her new boss, but there was the possibility he could have honestly just needed a break, like a normal human.

  Always rooting for the underdog, huh?

  “I apologize for this intrusion, Mr. Rohn,” Tara said. “I wasn’t aware Mr. Newland intended to invest any effort in this case—”

  Roxie pulled out a chair, scraping the legs on the floor with a cringe-worthy screech, and slung her purse onto the table, making sure to smack the bag into Tara’s shoulder. She smiled and sat as Tara glowered at her.

  “Roxie Malone.” She offered her hand in a handshake. Dumbass. He’s chained to the chair. She quickly twisted her wrist to wave instead. “Nice to meet you. I’m Grant’s current trained monkey.”

  Grant sighed. “My new assistant. Ben, I’m not going to bullshit with you. Do not plead guilty.”

  Ben raised his brows. Roxie pulled out a pencil and notepad from her purse. Straight to the point. Atta boy.

  Tara loudly inhaled and straightened in her seat. “Mr. Rohn, it is in your best interest to accept the prosecution’s bargain offer and plead guilty.”

  “But I’m not fucking guilty,” Ben said.

  “That may be true, but there is too much evidence that points to the contrary,” Tara said.

  “May be true? I’m fucking telling you. I didn’t kill that dumbass. Why are you representing me if you don’t even believe me? I don’t have time for this. I may as well let the drunk bum over here handle this mess. Say I say ‘not guilty’, Grant? How’s that gonna work?”

  “Is it a risk you’re willing to take, Mr. Rohn?” Tara said. “If you pass on the opportunity to maintain your bargain with a guilty—”

  Grant laughed. “Ben, there’s no need to bargain for thin air. She’s blowing smoke up your ass. Prosecution has jack shit to hold over you.”

  “There’s no point in trying to win this case, Grant,” Tara said. “There’s nothing we can use to convince any jury of his innocence. He would have slim chances of acquittal with the evidence at hand.”

  “You believe that?” Ben asked Grant.

  “Fuck, no. What evidence? An alibi would help a lot, but we can make do without it if that’s the way you’re calling the shots. The important thing is I believe you. Ms. Kaniz hasn’t shared any evidence with me, but Chris is compiling everything so I can start to defend you. I’ll begin a thorough examination of the assumptions from the investigation. It may take time, but I am confident we can win this case. The first thing to do is forget the ridiculous idea of giving up and pleading guilty to anything.”

  “You’re confident?” Tara said. “In what? You can hardly do your job.” She pointed to Ben. “He’s not confident in you.”

  Ben rubbed at his face. “I called him, didn’t I? He was the first person I thought of when they arrested me. But I didn’t know he was off on some vacation.”

  “Then why’s she still here?” Roxie asked Ben, with a nod toward Tara. “Grant’s back now.”

  “Because she hasn’t been losing her cases.” Ben set his elbow on the table and his face in his palm. “Because she didn’t fall into some kind of depression when her family fell apart. Because even though I’ve never liked her, she seems to have her shit together.”

  “Sure, she’s got herself together with everything except a warm-blooded heart,” Roxie said. Grant kicked her under the table. She rubbed her shin and glared at him.

  Ben smiled at Grant. “Your monkey’s got some spunk.” He sat up. “Is this how it’s going to be? You exes pissing at each other instead of focusing on beating the DA?”

  Roxie met Grant’s warning glare.

  Mum’s the word, Captain.

  A guard knocked at the door and a light bulb shone red.

  “I’ve got two more minutes in here. Either of you have anything useful to say?” Ben said.

  “Ben, it’s quite simple. Did you kill Josh Warren?” Grant said.

  “Fuck, man. How many times do I have to tell you? No. I’m not sorry he’s gone, but someone else shot him. Not me.”

  “Fine. Then why would you ever say you did kill him?” Grant asked.

  Roxie sucked her lips in, teething the seal. Well, see, boss, here’s the thing. Sometimes li
es are necessary… Her last fib—on record, no less—was to keep her daughter. A lie she would uphold and repeat as necessary. She could only wonder why Ben would need to omit the truth in his situation.

  Tara slapped the table. “Grant, you can’t win the case!”

  “You,” Grant said. “You can’t win the case. But I can. And I will.” He faced Ben again. “How are they treating you back there? You need anything?”

  “With white gloves. Hardly speak to anyone. You talk with Dad yet? Sheree?”

  “I’ll see your father tomorrow. Sheree, too.”

  “You make sure Sonny’s with them,” Ben said. He glanced between Tara and Grant, and then he took a moment to study Roxie before he stood.

  Grant rose, too. “I’ll check in with you, soon, okay? I’m on your side. You need anything, you call.”

  “Start with my plea. I’m not fucking guilty.”

  Chapter Seven

  After Ben was escorted back to his cell, Tara stood and checked her clothes for any wrinkles. “You’re going to win this case?” She smiled a waspish grin. “I’ll have you removed from counsel. Don’t press your luck.”

  “Unless Ben fires you first. Let’s go,” Grant said to Roxie. They stood and left the room. Grant led the way out.

  He needed to get out of there. Away from Tara. Closer to his office so he could begin his work.

  In the parking garage, Grant directed Roxie to his car. Once they were inside and headed back to the office, Roxie spoke up. “Who’s Sonny?”

  “Ben’s bodyguard. He was with Ben at Velocity the night Josh was killed. He’ll be someone we’ll need to speak with.”

  “Now, what?” she asked him when they returned to his private office.

  “I begin to investigate the case.” He shucked his jacket to the leather couch and undid his tie. Sitting at his desk, he raised his brows. A box for a brand new laptop sat next to his demolished one.