3. Evgeny
Evgeny
“What’s this?” I ask, grabbing the note Gertie holds out while I walk past her to my office.
I’ve been up since five, and the last several hours have been a headache, with Judge Matthews trying to shut me down at every turn.
I’ve never had so many objections overruled in my life.
It didn’t stop me from winning, but it did put me in a foul mood and give me a headache.
“Some woman keeps calling for you,” she says, getting up to follow me down the hall.
“Tell her to make an appointment if she wants me to represent her,” I say over my shoulder.
“I tried, but she said your fees are astronomical and elitist,” she says, and I don’t miss the soft huff of a laugh she gives.
“Then why does she want me to represent her?” I step into my office and set my briefcase down before walking to the small fridge in the corner and grabbing a bottle of water.
It’s even more humid than usual today, and this suit feels like it’s getting heavier by the second.
I’d love to be able to take off the jacket and roll up my sleeves.
Instead, I take a drink and lower the temp in the room.
“She doesn’t,” Gertie says, making me stop drinking and look over at her.
She grabs the pink-colored note she’d given me and jiggles it. “She’s a reporter. Harper Reed, eager little thing by the sound of it. She really wants a few minutes of your time.”
“Ms. Reed and I met yesterday. She tried to corner me at my car as I was leaving court.” I almost forget myself and smile at the memory when I think about how pissed she’d been when I shut her down and then told her to move.
Annoyance replaces the hidden smile when I also remember how beautiful I’d thought she was.
Short, dark hair cut to chin length, big, blue eyes, and a fierce determination to get her story.
In other words, trouble, and she needs to stay far away from me.
I don’t care how beautiful she is, the last thing I need is a nosy reporter taking an interest in me.
“Ignore her,” I tell Gertie.
“She’s called three times already today,” Gertie says.
“Perfect. If she keeps it up, tell her I’ll file a harassment suit against her.” I grin at the knowledge that it will infuriate her and take another drink.
“I always get the fun jobs,” Gertie mutters before leaving my office.
When Caleb knocks on my door a few minutes later, I tell him to come in and then open the file on my desk.
We work for several hours, going over every detail of one of our newest cases, stopping only when Gertie barges in, forcing us to eat a very late lunch.
After we’re done, Caleb stays until I finally force him to go home.
I’m about to settle back in for a few more hours of work when my family cell vibrates. Since I’m the only one here, I sit back and look to see who’s calling before I answer.
“Hey, Pop-Tart,” I say, laughing when my cousin calls me a fucker.
“You’ve got to stop calling me that,” Damien says.
“Never, so what’s going on? Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just wondering if you’re going to Yel’s for supper anytime soon.”
“Did she call you?”
“Yeah. You know she worries about you. We all do,” he says, and I try not to feel guilt at those words.
“Well, you all need to stop. I’m fine. I’ll do my best to be there this weekend. You and Sitka coming with the kids?”
“Yeah, of course. Rowan will be thrilled, River already has a stack of new drawings for you, and Wren, well, she’s three, so she’ll be as excited as a three-year-old can be.”
I grin at the mention of my nephews and niece. “I can’t wait to see them.” Then, because I can’t resist, I ask, “Work okay?”
He laughs before he says, “Aren’t you supposed to be in the dark? Plausible deniability? Is that it?”
“Someone’s been paying attention.”
“Well, you do talk a lot. Some of it was bound to sink in.”
I huff out a laugh, knowing my cousin’s memory is phenomenal at the worst of times. When he was young, he remembered everything to hide his dyslexia, and now it’s such an ingrained habit that I don’t think he could forget something even if he wanted to.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I say again. “Remember I made you all pay me a dollar so I could put you on retainer? You’re my clients. Attorney-client privilege and all that shit. You know the Bratva will always come first. No matter what. So start talking.”
“Not much is going on, man. Sasha had some fun the other night with a gang who tried to sell on our side, but other than that, it’s been quiet.”
“I bet he enjoyed the hell out of that. Family life did not slow him down.” I grin at the thought of our psychotic cousin having four daughters under the age of ten.
“Reese is a handful, Ev. I’m telling you, she’s going to be just like him.”
I groan and say, “God, I hope not. She’s only four, Damien. You can’t possibly be able to tell that yet.”
He scoffs at my logic. “It’s in the eyes, Ev. She has her dad’s eyes.”
“Well, she’ll have a good lawyer when the time comes,” I say.
Damien laughs. “She will. Speaking of, I saw that DeMarco hired Chase Donavan.”
“He’s good,” I admit, “but I hope he drops the ball on this one.”
“If he doesn’t, we’ll still take care of it,” Damien says, echoing exactly what I’d been thinking. One way or another, DeMarco’s life is ending.
“Agreed. He was not happy when I turned him down.”
“I bet not. I’m guessing he was willing to pay more than a dollar.”
“Quite a bit more,” I tell him.
“Yeah, well, fuck him,” Damien says, voicing exactly what I’m thinking.
“I would’ve paid good money to see his face when I turned him down,” I say with a grin. “Especially since he used his one phone call on me.”
Damien starts laughing, and I join in because sharing a laugh with my cousin is exactly what I needed tonight. If it wasn’t for them, I would live, sleep, and eat this job. It would be my entire life. My family is way too pushy to allow that to happen, though, and I’m so fucking grateful for it.
“I’ll be there this weekend,” I say, making up my mind that I’ll fit it in no matter what.
“I’ll let everyone know,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
I tell him bye and hang up before gathering the papers on my desk into a neat pile.
Gertie must have dropped another note on here at some point, the bright pink paper catching my eye before I grab onto it and read what she’s written.
Ms. Reed called twice more. I gave her your message. She was less than thrilled. Unlike your other clients, I’m not too worried she’s going to find me and shoot me for giving her bad news.
I sigh at her dramatics and toss the note in the garbage.
I’ve told her a million times she’s safe.
I may defend criminals, but even they’re smart enough to not off my secretary if they get pissed at me.
Plus, my cousin Niki has security cameras on everything, including ones that were secretly installed around Gertie’s brownstone.
I even had him put some around Caleb’s apartment.
I don’t think it’s necessary, but I’m also not so naive to refuse to do it.
Shutting the lights off, I lock our office suite and take the elevator to the parking garage. I give the security guard a nod on the way to my car but then stop short when I turn the corner and see what’s waiting for me.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mutter when I see who’s standing by my car.
Holding her hands up, she says in a low voice, probably to avoid being heard by the security guard who’s about to be out of a job. “Please, just listen to me for five seconds.”
“Ms. Reed, I’m two seconds away from filing a restraining order. You don’t get the luxury of five.”
She scowls at me and turns her head so quickly it makes the dark strands of her hair fly around her face. “You’re being ridiculous. I just want to talk to you.”
I click the fob to unlock my door and try to step around her. She has the nerve to butt up against my door, blocking my way.
“Wow, you are a ballsy little thing. How did you get in here?”
“I’ll answer your question if you answer mine,” she says, sweetening her tone just enough to make it sound enticing.
I refuse to smile, so instead I glare down at her, waiting until she caves. It takes longer than it should, but she finally sighs and says, “Fine. I get it. You don’t want to talk to me, but I just have one small question.”
“One question and then you’ll stop stalking me?” I ask.
“One question that you could’ve easily answered over the phone if you weren’t too stubborn to talk to me,” she counters.
I’m torn between laughing and marching her ass over to the security guard before pressing charges. A night in jail might do wonders for her attitude.
“What’s the question?” I ask because for some reason the thought of her in jail doesn’t sit right with me.
I can tell she’s surprised, but she covers it quickly, straightens up to her full height, which isn’t saying much, and asks, “Why aren’t you representing Sonny DeMarco?”
“That’s what you’re dying to know?”
“Yes. It doesn’t make sense. You’d make millions.”
“Maybe he didn’t ask me to represent him,” I say.
“Did he?”
I smirk at her. “That’s two questions.”
“You didn’t answer the first,” she reminds me.
“I can’t fit another case in right now,” I tell her. “Scheduling conflict.”
She laughs, right in my fucking face, and shakes her head. “You want to try that one again? Maybe give me the truth this time?”
My smile isn’t at all friendly when I say, “No. I answered your question, and now I’m going home. Goodbye, Ms. Reed. I’m sure you can sneak out of here the same way you snuck in.”
She hesitates for just a second before saying, “Actually, I can’t. I realize how this sounds, but could you please drive me out of here? I swear this isn’t some ploy to get an interview. I just don’t want to spend the night in a parking garage.”