Chapter Two
Knocking a brief rhythm on the door, Isabela peeked into Marcus Walker’s spacious office. He was on the phone but waved her in. She slid into one of the plush chairs across from his desk and scrolled through emails on her phone, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“Point taken, sweetheart ... yes, you’re always right,” Marcus laughed into the receiver. His eyes flicked to her, amusement dancing there.
“Okay,” he continued, “Isabela just came in and is trying her best to act like she isn’t listening, so I need to let you go.”
Isabela looked up with a grimace but cracked a smile when she caught the humor in his tone.
“I will. Love you too,” he said, ending the call. “Jas says hi.”
“Tell her hi back for me,” Isabela replied warmly. Jasmine Walker was something of a legend around the office, and clearly Marcus’s queen. The way he talked about his wife made her believe that finding love was still possible.
“Just so you know,” Marcus added, leveling her with a mock-serious look, “you’re a terrible actress. Your face gives it all away.”
“Thanks for the heads-up, boss. I’ll work on my poker face.”
He leaned back, fingers steepled. “Speaking of ... what did you really think today?”
Isabela didn’t need clarification. “He’s a bully.”
Marcus laughed, white teeth flashing stunningly against his dark skin. “Well, that bully is all yours.”
“Pardon?” Isabela sat up straighter.
“He’s a pain in the ass, I know, but you can handle him. I’ll be focused on the media strategy and cleaning up his public image. Your job is getting Macklin to talk.”
She blinked. “You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack,” Marcus said. “Whether he did it on purpose or not, we need to know. No surprises in court. If it gets that far. Dig in.”
“But Marcus,” she groaned, “he hates me.”
“You just met the guy.”
“That’s all it took,” she muttered. “The way he looked at me, like I didn’t belong in the room. Get Bryan or Lewis to handle him,” she begged, unable to hide the edge in her voice. “He’ll probably enjoy their company, and their skin color, more than mine.” She coughed lightly into her fist.
Surprisingly, Marcus chuckled. “I could assign it to them. But I know they won’t fare better than you. In fact, they’ll get steamrolled.”
His tone shifted, face sobering. “I’m giving you the reins, Isabela. In my opinion, the DA’s already drafting the press release. The public wants blood, or at the very least, transparency. That’s what we’re going to give them.”
He leaned forward, “I want every inch of this guy exposed. His secrets, his scars, his hero moments. Apparently, his record was spotless before this. But the political climate? It doesn’t forgive cops acting as judge and jury.”
“It shouldn’t,” she said sharply, then caught herself, inhaling through her nose.
Marcus raised both hands in surrender. “You’re preaching to the choir.”
She paused, spine stiff as the importance of the opportunity took hold. This was her chance to prove herself worthy of the prestigious partner title. It was a high stakes case with a difficult client. All eyes were watching, especially those within the firm.
He continued, voice gentler. “You were added to this case because you get results. Because you’re likeable, smart, and tireless. And, yes...” he hesitated only slightly, “because a Hispanic woman with a human rights background looks damn good to a jury.”
Her stomach dropped, rollercoaster-style, even though she’d already guessed.
“But more than optics, I trust you. I trust your gut. You won’t let him play you. You’ll get the truth.”
Marcus sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’ve been the token Black man more times than I can count. It always stings. But I know my worth. I’ve always been willing to take the opportunity to prove it. You strike me as being cut from the same cloth.”
Damn him for being right. He always reminded her of her father. Both men were blunt, but brilliant and fair. She wanted to be partner material, and this case was her audition.
“I got you,” Isabela said quietly.
“I knew you would.” Marcus nodded once, then gestured to the growing stack of case files on his desk. “Now, I have work to do, and so do you.”
Taking the cue, Isabela rose and left the office. As she walked down the hall toward her own, her paralegal, Kelly Moore, looked up from behind his computer.
“Hey, Izzy, your schedule just got an update. First interview with Mr. Macklin is booked for tomorrow morning.”
She stopped mid-step. “What?”
Kelly winced. “Sorry, chica. Thought it was best to get it over with.”
“Did you book a conference room?” she asked.
“I was going to ask. Want me to?”
Izzy exhaled. As much as she wanted to keep things in neutral territory, maybe starting off in her own office would help her stay grounded.
“No ... my office is fine,” she said with a forced smile.
But as she turned away, the thought of being behind closed doors with Christopher Macklin made her stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with nerves.
“Actually, yes, Kel. Book the room.”
“You got it.” He winked.
“You’re the best.” Izzy threw a kiss in his direction.
“I know it. Wanna get margs with Alexis and I after work?”
“I thought you’d never ask. I should be done by six-ish.”
“Perfection. I’ll have her book a table for three,” he said.
At least her work husband had her back. Isabela headed for her office, heels clicking and heart steadying. Tomorrow would be uncomfortable. Maybe even ugly. She’d never been afraid to get her hands dirty, but she was afraid of what she might see behind those arctic blue eyes if she wasn’t careful.
****
The scent of sizzling fajitas and fresh lime filled the air.
Isabela breathed deep and leaned back in her chair, margarita in hand, Tajín crusting the rim like a halo.
The low hum of conversation and Spanish guitar playing overhead made Zapotec Cantina feel like a second home.
In the last year, she’d come here enough it could literally be listed as her secondary address.
Their favorite booth near the window was occupied but she didn’t mind the bar seating. The dinner hour was always packed. The high stools gave her a clear view of the whole restaurant, and tonight, she was in good company.
“You should see the look you made when you tasted the green salsa,” Kelly said, smirking into his drink.
“It burned a hole in my soul,” Kelly’s wife Alexis said, fanning her mouth with a chip. “That is not salsa, that’s chemical warfare.”
Izzy laughed as she reached for another chip. “That’s why you pair it with this,” she lifted her pomegranate margarita like it was a potion, “a gift to women who work too damn hard.”
“Amen,” Alexis said, her curls bouncing as she raised her own glass. “Cheers to temporary amnesia due to these lovely margaritas.”
They clinked glasses with an overly dramatic flourish before sipping. The tequila hit just right. Izzy hadn’t realized how tightly her shoulders had been coiled until they started to unspool.
“So.” Alexis raised a brow, chip paused halfway to the guac. “You gonna tell us what’s eating at you, or do we have to tequila it out of you?”
Izzy sighed, dragging her chip through the guacamole like it had personally wronged her. “I have to interview that detective tomorrow morning. Christopher Macklin,” she whispered the name.
Kelly gave a sympathetic wince. “Officer Grumpy.”
“Grumpy and judgy,” Isabela muttered. “He looked at me like I walked into the meeting wearing body glitter and Crocs.”
“First off, who said Crocs weren’t office appropriate?” Alexis waved a hand toward her feet where she wore Crocs with her scrubs. “Second, he’s probably just feeling threatened,” she offered. “You’re a stunning, intelligent woman who could eviscerate him with one sentence and look good doing it.”
“Damn right,” Kelly added.
Izzy smiled, touched in spite of herself. “Thanks, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not my problem. He can hate me all he wants. I’ll interview him and then hopefully never have to see him again after the case wraps.”
Before Kelly or Alexis could respond, a tall, dark, and handsome guy in a Seahawks t-shirt approached their table with a smile that was just on the right side of cocky.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, looking at Isabela, “but I’ve been sitting over there for the last ten minutes trying to figure out the least creepy way to say you have the cutest laugh I’ve ever heard.”
Izzy laughed again, caught off guard. “Oh.”
“I’m Jason,” he said, offering a hand.
She took it automatically. “Isabela.”
“Well, Isabela ... would you maybe want to grab a drink sometime? Or a taco? I’ve heard the guac here is legendary.”
Beside her, Alexis grinned and kicked her lightly under the table. Izzy hesitated.
Jason was cute. He was well built, with a scruffy beard and kind eyes. Charming in that laid-back Seattle kind of way. But she could already feel her brain sifting through excuses, calculating time, energy, emotional bandwidth. There wasn’t much left.
“I appreciate it,” she said honestly. While she got hit on frequently, it was rare a man put any effort into approaching her in a civilized manner. “But I’ve got a lot going on right now.”
“Fair enough,” he said easily, smiling as he stepped back. “Nice meeting you.”
“You, too.” Isabela said.
As he walked away, Alexis gave her a look. “Girl.”
“I know,” Izzy groaned, burying her face in her hands.
“That man had dimples I could see through the beard! You’re legally required to investigate.”
“I don’t need a distraction right now,” she said. “Especially not with this case.”
Kelly leaned in. “You also don’t need to keep burning yourself out on clients who wouldn’t know gratitude if it smacked them in the face with a subpoena.”
“Exactly,” Alexis said. “You’ve earned joy, Izzy. You deserve something besides depositions and deadlines.”
Izzy sighed, the weight of the day settling again, but buffered by chips and good company.
“I know you’re right. It’s just ... hard to want something more when you’re just trying to be enough, ya know? Enough to make partner, enough to not be a disappointment to my family.” She paused. “Okay, now I’ve gone off the deep end. Sorry for being a buzz kill guys.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment.
Then Kelly raised his glass again. “To being enough and maybe making room for something more.”
Izzy clinked her glass to theirs and took a long sip. Tomorrow would be tough. So tonight, she’d let herself enjoy the salt, the laughter, and the warmth of the few people who already thought she was more than enough.