1. Evgeny #3
It’s comfortable but elegant, if a little sterile.
Instead of family photos, there are shelves full of law books and the obligatory framed diplomas to prove I have the credentials to be here.
Dropping the pile of papers on my desk, I set my briefcase down and sink into the leather chair that had cost a small fortune and been worth every penny.
True to her word, Gertie’s left a 12-inch Italian sub on my desk, a bottle of water, and a large coffee.
I can already smell the butterscotch creamer, and it’s the first thing I reach for, taking a much-needed drink before focusing on the sub.
If it wasn’t for Gertie, I’d probably starve.
Along with Caleb, she’s been a godsend, keeping the office running like a well-oiled machine and providing some levity to what would otherwise be a very humorless job.
When Caleb knocks on my door, I’m almost done with my lunch and I’ve already read through my messages and the fax that was sent over earlier.
“Come in,” I tell him before taking the last bite.
“Ev,” he says, stepping in with notepad in hand. I’ve told both him and Gertie they can call me Ev, and they both insist on only using it in private. “I just got off the phone with Sonny DeMarco.”
The glee in his voice has me leaning back in my chair while I toss the napkin on my empty plate and grab the bottle of water.
Caleb steps closer, dropping into the leather chair across from me. “Well, it was actually one of DeMarco’s assistants, but they want to hire you. DeMarco was arrested an hour ago. It’s all over the news.”
“Not interested,” I say, ignoring the stunned look Caleb gives me.
“This will be the biggest case of the year. Everyone is going to be chomping at the bit to get him as a client.”
“They can have him.” I take a drink, setting the bottle down when it’s empty. “If they call again, tell them I’m unable to take his case.”
“But why?”
I raise a brow, and he has enough sense to look embarrassed.
Sitting up a bit straighter, he changes his tone and tries again. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t you want this case? You’d make a fortune and have your name on every news outlet in the country.”
“I already have my name on every news outlet,” I remind him.
I can tell he’s desperate for an answer and that it’ll gnaw away at him until he gets one.
Since I need him focused on other things, I say, “DeMarco sells women. He’s a sex trafficker, so he can go fuck himself.
I’m not representing him, and I hope he’s convicted and rots in prison for the rest of his miserable life. ”
I don’t bother adding that if he’s released, I’ll personally see to it that he won’t live long enough to enjoy his freedom.
“How do you know that? I’ve never heard anything about him selling women. He’s being held on second-degree murder charges.”
“It’s my job to know,” I say, refusing to elaborate.
He doesn’t need to know that my cousin Niki is one of the best hackers in the world and keeps me in the loop about any criminal within a hundred-mile radius of us.
DeMarco runs his business out of Jersey.
He’s never once encroached on our territory, but we’ve had eyes on him for quite a while.
We’d planned on taking him out, but it looks like the State might do it for us.
When it’s obvious Caleb still has questions, I sigh and ask, “What?”
“Well,” he starts, stopping for a few seconds while he musters up the courage to add, “all your clients break the law. They’re all criminals.”
I tsk at him and shake my head. “All my clients are innocent men who have been wrongly accused, Caleb. You know that.”
He swallows the laugh I’m sure he wants to give and nods. “Right, of course, but isn’t DeMarco like that too?”
“No, he’s different. He sells women, Caleb. End of story. I get to choose who I help, and I’m not wasting my time on a piece of shit like that.”
I can tell I’m confusing him, so I say, “In this line of work, you have to decide how far you’re willing to go, how far over the line you’re comfortable stepping, because there’s no going back.
What is a hard no for you? That’s something you need to decide for yourself.
For me, it’s sex traffickers. Fuck them.
They won’t get a shred of help from me.”
He seems surprised by my impromptu ethics speech, but what I don’t add is that my mom was a victim of sex trafficking, that she was taken and held for two years and that it’s the reason my dad and his best friends formed the Bratva.
It was all to get my mom back. I’ve been told those two years nearly killed my dad.
None of them ever stopped looking for her, but my dad was in love with her and took it the hardest. My mom is my Uncle Roman’s little sister, and she’d been in love with my dad since she was little.
They’d only just started dating when she was taken.
As lame as it may sound, my parents are my heroes.
If love were a possibility for me, I’d want exactly what they have. I could never settle for anything less.
Unfortunately, it’s never going to happen, and I know myself well enough to know I’m not the kind of guy who could bare only my dick and fuck some random girl in a club, so Celibate City it is. It looks like I’ll be a permanent resident.
“Where are we on the Stockton case?” I ask, wanting to change the subject. “Do we need to put Charlie on it?”
At the mention of the private investigator we keep on the payroll, Caleb lifts his eyes to mine and says, “It wouldn’t hurt.
We have enough witnesses lined up who are willing to swear our client was at the Roxy Club instead of selling drugs five miles away, but if Charlie can come up with another suspect, it would make your job a lot easier when this goes to trial. ”
“Agreed,” I say. “Witness testimony is always iffy, and when the accused is someone as powerful as Bill Stockton, well, it’s not unusual for people to be willing to lie under oath to avoid his wrath.
Justin Mason is the prosecutor on this one.
He’ll discredit them in seconds. We need something a lot more tangible than that.
If Charlie can find us something that will plant doubt in their minds, then we can use it to win the case. Call him and put him on it.”
Caleb stands and adjusts the suit he’s wearing.
Thanks to the generous salary I pay him, he’s been able to update his wardrobe.
I can’t have him showing up to court and sitting beside me while wearing something you can buy off a rack at any department store.
Everything we say and do while in that courtroom reflects back on us.
I’ve spent years building a reputation for being one of the best criminal defense attorneys in the state, and I’ll be damned if a cheap suit is going to tarnish it.
The bespoke Tom Ford and handmade leather shoes I’m wearing are a testament to that.
First impressions are everything, and when the jury sees me, I want them to immediately know how much my clients pay me, and I want them to know I’m worth every goddamn penny of it.
There’s no room for modesty in my profession.
It’s too cut-throat for that. You either have what it takes or you quickly get swallowed up and spit out.
A lot of my colleagues have learned that the hard way, and I don’t intend to join them.
After Caleb leaves, I spend the rest of the day going over my notes for one of my other clients.
Being my own boss gives me the freedom to only take the cases I want, but I rarely turn any down because every win helps solidify my career.
I chose this profession so I could be an asset to my family, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love the challenge it presents.
Outsmarting the prosecution and convincing jurors to side with me, even when they really shouldn’t, is a thrill unlike anything else, and I’ve come to crave it.
When there’s a soft knock at my door, I look up to see Gertie poking her head in. I roll my neck, trying to undo the stiffness that’s settled in my shoulders as she walks in.
“I’m about to leave for the day.” She hands me another coffee. “I shouldn’t feed your caffeine addiction. You’ve made me an enabler.”
I grin up at her and take the drink. “You know I can’t function without it.”
“You need to leave this office while the sun is still out and go and have some fun like I’m about to do.” She taps a long acrylic nail, the same shade of red as her lips, against my desk while I lean back and take another drink.
“Have a hot date tonight?” I ask her.
“I sure do. I found this one on a dating app. His photos are delicious.” The grin she gives me almost has me feeling sorry for whoever it is she’s about to meet. Gertie is on a mission tonight.
“Be gentle with him,” I say.
She laughs and gives me a playful wink. “If he can’t handle me, it’s best we find out right from the beginning. I have no interest in wasting my time on a guy who can’t keep up.”
I refuse to dwell on the fact that my sixty-five-year-old secretary is getting more action than I am and instead I grin and tell her to have fun. Before she leaves, I add, “Pulling a muscle does not mean you can call in sick tomorrow.”