Chapter 6 Ryker
RYKER
The fluorescent lights outside of Faith’s room buzzed like angry wasps, casting everyone in that particular shade of institutional green that made healthy people look like corpses. I’d pulled Blake out here to get the truth from him.
“How is she really?” I kept my voice low, but, God help me, I’d been worried I’d made the wrong call, delaying her care. In the moment, I’d gone into defense lawyer mode, but what if her head injury was worse than I realized? What if she …
Blake’s jaw could’ve cut glass. “Concussion. They’re running more tests to be safe, but, physically, she seems to be okay.” The words had barely left his mouth when his gaze caught on something behind me, and every muscle in his body locked up.
“Did they document everything?” I asked. “Photograph her injuries?”
Blake nodded. “Every bruise, every scratch. The head wound especially. It’s all on record.”
“Good. That’s going to matter.” I exhaled, running a hand through my hair. “I’ve already put a call in to my PI. He’s meeting me first thing tomorrow to start searching the area for surveillance cameras, witnesses, and anyone who might’ve seen or heard something in or near those woods.”
“And the body?”
“I’m staying on top of the coroner. I want a full autopsy. Defensive wounds, toxicology, exact cause of death, time of death. Everything by the book before anyone has a chance to cut corners or spin a narrative.”
The sharp click of leather soles against linoleum echoed down the corridor, measured as they drew closer. I didn’t need to turn around to know that walk meant trouble, but I did anyway.
A man in a charcoal suit moved toward us with the kind of purposeful stride that parted crowds in courtrooms. Even under the harsh hospital glare, he looked polished, powerful. Dangerous.
“Shit.” My stomach tightened the way it had three years ago, watching him destroy Stanley Reddick on the stand. Reddick had been nineteen, scared, innocent. Wolfe had made him look guilty of murder in under twenty minutes.
Blake’s voice dropped. “He looks familiar.”
I studied him as he approached. His silver hair was swept back from a high forehead, not a strand out of place despite the late hour, and his suit wasn’t just charcoal; it was bespoke, the fabric catching the light in a way that screamed four figures.
Italian shoes, French cuffs peeking out just so, a blood-red tie.
“He’s an assistant district attorney for Chicago,” I explained.
“The prosecutor,” Blake clarified.
My stomach dropped. “Yes.”
“Is it common for prosecutors to show up at midnight to question victims?”
Victim. That’s what Faith had to be. Not suspect. Not killer. Victim.
“No.” The word came out harsh. “Not common at all.”
I watched Wolfe flash his credentials at the nurses’ station, all practiced charm and calculated smiles.
The head nurse actually giggled. Giggled.
Like he was some movie star instead of a man who’d put four innocent people behind bars in the last five years alone.
Not that anyone could prove they were innocent after Wolfe got through with them.
The man moved through the world like he owned it, probably because enough powerful people owed him favors that he basically did.
“Wolfe.” Blake’s brow furrowed as recognition fluttered. “Isn’t that the same guy who—”
“Convicted Knox.” The name hung between us like a blade.
Blake went rigid. Knox’s case had been back in our college days, but the scars ran deep. “Jesus. That was him?”
“Convinced Knox it was his only way to …” I stopped short, unwilling to share what Knox had told me in professional confidence. Attorney-client privilege didn’t expire just because your client became your brother in everything but blood.
Blake digested this. “So, he’s been in the same role this whole time? Don’t most people move up or on by then?”
“He enjoys the power too much.” I kept my voice steady, professional, even as my pulse kicked up a notch.
“Gets to wield it without the pressure of being the elected DA or state’s attorney.
From what I’ve gathered, he’s in the pocket of a lot of powerful people.
Plus, why move up when you can stay where the real action is?
Where you get to personally destroy lives, one cross-examination at a time? ”
“Why would he care about this case?”
Good question. Faith’s situation was messy, sure, but not high-profile enough to warrant the ADA himself showing up at—I checked my watch—11:47 p.m. Unless someone called in a favor. Unless someone powerful wanted Faith buried and they knew exactly which prosecutor would guarantee it.
“I don’t know. But he’s ruthless. And he doesn’t show up at hospitals at midnight without a reason.”
He must know something we don’t.
Wolfe’s eyes found mine across the corridor, and his lips curved into a smile that would make a great white jealous.
“Ryker Kincaid.” My name rolled off his tongue like he was savoring expensive wine. Coming closer, he buttoned his jacket with the kind of theatrical precision that belonged in a courtroom, not a hospital hallway. “Don’t tell me you’re defending the killer.”
Every muscle in my body tensed. “Sorry, Counselor. Seems you’ve forgotten the words alleged and suspected. But then again, you’ve always had trouble with those distinctions, haven’t you?”
“Right.” His smirk widened, revealing teeth that had definitely been professionally whitened.
“My mistake. So, you’re defending the alleged and highly suspected killer.
” He took a step closer, invading the space between us.
“This should be fun. It’s been what, two years since I absolutely demolished you in court?
The Reeves case, wasn’t it? You practically ran out of the courtroom. ”
My fingers itched to punch that smirk off his face. “You mean the case where your key witness suddenly ‘remembered’ crucial details after meeting with you privately? Details that contradicted his original statement?”
“Memories can be funny things.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Especially when properly … refreshed.”
Blake shifted beside me, his tension radiating like heat.
The antiseptic sting of the hospital corridor faded behind the overpowering stench of Wolfe’s scent.
Which was deliberately overpowering. The kind of fragrance that announced him before he entered a room and lingered long after he left, as if even the air had to remember who was in charge.
“Why are you here?” I kept my tone level, professional. Never let them see you sweat. First rule of criminal law.
“Did you see the crime scene?” Wolfe’s grin turned positively gleeful, like a kid who’d found where his parents hid the Christmas presents. “Quite the bloodbath.”
I had seen it. And I’d made damn sure to watch every step of the evidence collection, noting what they bagged, what they photographed, what they might have missed. If Wolfe thought he was the only one paying attention tonight, he was in for a surprise.
“It’s awfully late for the assistant district attorney to come all the way down to a hospital. Especially when visiting hours ended hours ago.”
He waved a manicured hand dismissively. “Yes, well, these jobs do require a lot of us, don’t they?
Though I suppose you’re discovering that with your …
what is it now? Your new little law firm?
” His eyes glinted with malice. “I thought you only took on innocent clients. Isn’t that your whole business model?
Won’t it crumble before it even starts if you take on a guilty person? ”
God, how satisfying would it be to punch him in his smug face?
“You’ve already been assigned this case?” I asked instead, ignoring the jab.
“Oh, I volunteered for this one.” The pleasure in his voice made my skin crawl.
“Really? Why is that?”
He shrugged, the gesture somehow making his suit jacket fall perfectly back into place. Guy probably practiced that move in the mirror. “What can I say? Sometimes, I love a good slam dunk. Especially when I get to humiliate you in the process. Again.”
“I think you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“Police officers told me she was covered in blood and holding the murder weapon.” He practically purred the words.
“Suspected weapon,” I corrected, not bothering to hide my irritation. “And again, a full investigation has to be completed. So, I’m sure you know how dangerous it is to throw around words like murder weapon and killer when we don’t know what happened.”
A nurse wheeled a cart past us, giving us all a wide berth. Smart woman.
“So, you are going to defend her then.” Wolfe’s smirk turned predatory. “Well, this case just got a lot more interesting.”
He started moving toward Faith’s door, his hand actually reaching for the handle. “Maybe I should just pop in for a quick chat. Off the record, of course.”
“Don’t even think about it.” I stepped between him and the door, my body blocking his path.
“Come on now, Kincaid. Just a friendly conversation. No lawyer present.” His smile turned sharper. “Sometimes, people are more … honest without their attorneys breathing down their necks.”
“You mean more vulnerable.” My voice dropped to a growl. “More likely to say something you can twist into a confession.”
“Twist is such an ugly word. I prefer interpret.”
“Step away from the door, Wolfe.”
“Or what?” He actually laughed. “You’ll report me? To whom? Judge Harrison, who golfs with me every Sunday? Or maybe Chief Davidson, who owes me for keeping his son out of prison last year?”
Blake moved to flank him, and Wolfe’s eyes flickered with something that might have been concern if he was capable of such an emotion.
Honestly, the balls on this guy, so used to getting his own way that he thought he could come down here and talk to Faith without a lawyer present.
My fists clenched at my sides, knuckles aching with the effort not to wipe that look off his face.
Wolfe had always been an absolute thorn in my side.
A guy who liked to bend the rules to his advantage and intimidate witnesses.
Never far enough to get himself in real trouble, but far enough to poison almost every case he touched.
He was a bad seed among good prosecutors, motivated by power, bankrolled and protected by elected officials who valued wins over justice.
The actual rule of law fell somewhere below his dry cleaning on his priority list. Only one thing mattered to Bennett Wolfe: winning at all costs.
“It’s not too late for you to back out now,” he said.
“I won’t be doing that.”
“Can’t say I’m surprised.” He stepped closer, close enough that I could see the calculation in his cold gray eyes, and smell the mint he’d probably popped right before this confrontation.
“Your win rate is better than most criminal defense attorneys in the state of Illinois.” Another step.
Too close now. Deliberately invasive. “But”—he leaned in like he was sharing a secret—“mine’s higher than yours. ”
Measuring dicks. How cliché.
For a second, he looked exactly like what he was—a predator who’d spotted prey.
“This isn’t a game,” I growled.
“Everything’s a game.” He adjusted his cuff links. Actual gold cuff links in a hospital at midnight—because of course he’d wear that and of course he’d take a moment to draw attention to them. “You and I both love the competition. The only difference between us is, I’m honest about playing to win.”
Blake’s hand landed on my shoulder in a warning or a restraint. Maybe both.
“That’s disgusting,” I said, though the word felt inadequate for the rage building in my chest.
Wolfe straightened his tie. “I’ll be seeing you at arraignment, Counselor.
Do try to make it interesting.” As if his case was such a done deal, he was almost bored by it.
He glanced toward Faith’s room, and something dark flickered across his features.
“Though given what I’ve seen so far, I doubt you’ll have much to work with. Your client’s going down, Kincaid.”
He turned on his heel and strode back toward the elevators, leaving behind the promise of war.
Blake waited until the elevator doors closed before speaking. “The fuck is he up to?”
I was still staring at the elevator, mind racing through possibilities, each one worse than the last. “He’s got something. Some angle we don’t see yet.”
“You think Faith—”
“I think Bennett Wolfe doesn’t volunteer for anything unless he knows he’s already won.” I turned to Blake and saw my own concern reflected in his eyes. “And that should terrify us both.”
Through the narrow window in Faith’s door, I could see her lying in the hospital bed, bandages wrapped around her head, looking small and fragile against the white sheets.
Whatever had happened tonight, whatever bloody scene she’d stumbled away from, Bennett Wolfe thought he could use it to destroy her.
Over my dead body.
I pressed my palm against the cool glass of her door, a silent promise she couldn’t hear. Wolfe could bring his A game, his dirty tricks, his whole corrupt machine.
She was mine to protect now. Mine to defend.
“Come on,” I said to Blake. “We need to talk strategy. Because if Wolfe wants a war …” I rolled my shoulders, feeling the familiar pretrial tension settling into my bones. “Then I’m going to give him one he’ll never forget.”
The battle for Faith’s freedom had officially begun.
And I’d be damned if I let Bennett Wolfe win this one.