Chapter 5
Hudson
“Hey. Hey. My man. Here come de judge.” Maverick Callahan slapped my palm with his before strutting into my house.
That was the appropriate way to describe the former FBI agent turned bestselling author. There was even more jig in his step on the stormy night than usual. Laughing, I closed the door behind him.
“That joke is getting old, you know,” I said as I followed him through the house toward my man cave.
I hadn’t named the room; Gabriel Rawlins had when we’d begun our bi-weekly poker game over a year before.
My fellow judge rarely let his hair down, yet once embroiled in a heated game he became a wild man.
“Come on,” Maverick teased as he headed straight to the bar. “You love my jokes. Plus, you can’t be pissed at me. I brought the bag of change.”
The bag of change. The money we gambled with. Big time high rollers.
“There’s a reason you write thrillers instead of rom-coms,” I told him as I shook my head.
At least the man could make me laugh. Plus, he was a damn good author. I had one of his books on my nightstand. I grabbed a glass, filling it with whiskey. I needed more than just my usual Corona tonight.
Chase Barrett chuckled before taking a pull on his beer. “Careful, Hudson, or Maverick might kill you off in one of his books.” As a current member of the DEA, he’d developed a twisted sense of humor.
I thumped down into my seat, laughing.
“That would make a perfect big screen thriller,” Kendrick Stark added as he headed for the poker table laden with snacks.
The man was considered one of the most talented prosecutors in Miami, putting some of the worst bad guys that the city had ever seen behind bars.
His conviction rate was through the roof.
He was also our resident playboy, learning early on never to take life too seriously. As if any of us really did any longer. We’d been around the block and then some, either hunting and arresting or prosecuting the worst criminals in the country.
After a few years, the horrors witnessed and discussed in one courtroom after another had taken a toll.
That’s why the poker games had become symbolic, our taste of freedom.
“Very funny,” I groused. “Now, who would get to play me in this brilliant movie? He’d need to be handsome, buff, and a ladies’ man.” I grabbed a cigar from the box of Cubans, grabbing the cutter while I glanced from man to man. I knew what their reactions would be.
Chase choked first, sucking down half his beer to compensate.
The others just offered an incredulous look while I laughed.
There were times I knew the poker games kept me sane.
I think the regular routine did for all of us.
A group of forty-something dudes who were either divorced or unmarried finding solace in a game of cards and a few beverages wasn’t new, but for men who fought for justice every day, something so simple felt like a lifeline.
Maverick finally approached, tossing the bag of coins onto the table. “Tonight is for high rollers.”
“You mean you brought more quarters than nickels and dimes. Right?” I teased.
He gave me a dirty look until he noticed the box of cigars.
“Wow. Cubans,” Maverick said with a twinkle in his eye. “What’s the occasion?”
“Does there need to be?” I asked, taking a deep puff. The four men glanced from one to the other. “Tough week. A murderer got off scot-free. The jury couldn’t convict.” Another case where the law had failed.
“I saw that on the news,” Gabriel growled. “Didn’t that bastard kill his wife and both children?”
Nodding, I took a gulp of my whiskey. Lately, I’d taken the losses harder than I had when first on the bench. The cases seemed to be getting more violent, more horrific, and most somehow falling into a gray zone where jurors had a difficult time convicting.
“It’s a shit world out there, man. I’ve often thought what it would be like if the good guys were in control,” Chase grumbled. “You know. Like doling out the appropriate punishment for these motherfuckers?”
I lifted my eyebrow, taking another deep puff.
At some point I’d need to stop smoking the damn things before they killed me.
Although in my mind, some crazed murderer who’d crossed my courtroom would be a more likely candidate.
“That’s called anarchy. That’s why we have a system in place.
” Words I’d said one too many times. Maybe to try to convince myself it was true.
“I don’t know. It would be nice.” Maverick shrugged and grabbed himself one of the thick cigars. This was the only time I smoked, a sheer indulgence my doctor would tell me I didn’t need, yet I didn’t give a shit.
Maybe I was just getting too old to play cops and robbers, the game I used to love as a kid. My father had known when I was four years old, I would choose law as my profession.
“Alright. Let’s roll, boys,” Kendrick said as he rubbed his hands together. “Whose turn is it to deal?”
I held up my hand. “My house. My rules.” Time to forget about the bullshit and somewhat whacked judicial system. I was ready for some serious down time.
And winning. I never liked to lose.
“You’re such a cheat,” Gabriel tossed out.
“Hey. A man’s gotta take a stand in his own house.” I dealt the cards while holding the cigar between my teeth. I was thankful for living close to the water, the fresh air keeping the stench from lingering after they’d left.
“Alright, gentlemen,” Chase said in his usual I-don’t-take-shit voice. “Get ready to lose. I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
The rest of us groaned in response, prompting hm to throw up his middle finger.
“I think I’m the lucky one,” I said while looking over my cards. Two aces were a damn good start. Tonight was my night.
An hour later and my enthusiasm had waned. I pushed back from the chair, still trying to decipher how the hell I’d lost with a full house, not once but twice.
“Read ‘em and weep, boys,” Chase said as he gathered the mound of coins, ceremoniously dragging them closer.
“He’s cheating,” Kendrick insisted.
“Yup,” Gabriel threw out and also rose to his feet. “Do you have any tequila?”
I laughed. “Have at it, buddy. I’ll stick with whiskey.”
“So… Did you guys hear about Jacob Jones?” Chase asked, immediately lifting an eyebrow and glancing in my direction.
As soon as he mentioned the name, I bristled.
Chase had known exactly how I’d react.
The vivid, bloody images of the victim had only recently begun to fade from my mind.
One of how many? Jacob’s moniker should be changed to the butcher.
I’d seen photographs of the other victims. I’d tracked the bastard’s career during the single trial bringing him to justice.
He’d been groomed by the Delgado Cartel to do their biddings.
The man had no conscience, no humanity. From what I could ascertain, he had no soul.
“What about him?” I gritted out. I’d done everything I could to erase the bastard and his monstrous deeds from my mind. The only reason I hadn’t was that as a judge, I often needed reminders of why I’d chosen a profession that often left me feeling dead and cold inside.
Jogging the memories also forced me to think about the beautiful witness who’d been courageous enough to stand up to him.
At the risk of her own safety.
Thoughts of Valentina played out in my mind at least a couple of times a week, including the night we’d spent together.
There’d been a strange connection between us, a strong feeling that neither one of us had been able to deny.
I’d wanted nothing more than to protect her.
I’d done my best, watching over the proceedings like a hawk, especially when the defense attorney had tried and almost succeeded in breaking the veil of anonymity. Bastard.
Then I’d crossed every ethical line in the book in fulfilling my carnal needs.
With my drink in hand, I turned toward my friend.
I could tell whatever Chase had to say was weighing heavily on his mind. “You haven’t heard? You were the judge on the case. I mean Jesus Christ. What the hell is wrong with the damn system.”
Something about his tone I just didn’t like. “Spill it.”
When he hesitated again, I narrowed my eyes.
“The Undertaker is out on the street. The conviction was tossed out on a technicality. Something about jury tampering and his defense attorney was all over it. The prosecutor’s office has yet to determine if they plan on retrying the case.
Don’t tell me how the bastard managed to do it other than he brought in a notorious defense attorney from Chicago who’d once practiced law in Miami. Guess who he used to defend?”
What the fuck? The case had been airtight. There’d been no tampering. That was something I didn’t allow in my courtroom. Someone had been bought off or threatened. I immediately saw stars from absolute, mind-boggling rage.
I was caught up in the fact Jacob had been released, stunned to my core. How could any court of appeals free that fucking man? How?
“Let me guess,” Gabriel snarled. “The Delgado Cartel had a hand in ensuring his release.”
“Bingo. Granted, just my thoughts but I have no doubt Luis Delgado hired this new swanky attorney.” Chase sighed. “I thought you’d know first, Hudson. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
Exhaling, I walked toward the open set of doors, leaning against the doorjamb and studying the harbor.
When I slammed my fist on the wall, I could feel all eyes on me.
“What the fuck is going on with our goddamn legal system? When victims aren’t believed, witnesses are ignored, and corrupt attorneys take the lead, justice can’t be served. ”
I knew I was preaching to the choir. We’d all had our share of cases where we’d been in shock at the outcome.
Even Chase had been affected in trying to track down criminals who sold drugs to teenagers and brought assault weapons in through the borders as if they were selling tomatoes in an outdoor stand.