Get Me Off: A Dark Bad Boy Romance

by Brook Wilder

  I was too stunned to reply and, instead, we walked the rest of the way to the visitation room. It was like a scene out of a T.V. show. A row of partitioned desks faced a panel of protective glass. On the other side was an identical desk, though the inmate side definitely looked worse for the wear. The guard gestured for us to sit at the desk at the far end of the room and then walked away and left us alone. This cubicle, unlike the others, had two phones on our side, presumably, so we could both talk to Emmett at once.

  “Usually we use a table in the downstairs meeting rooms to talk to clients,” Jon said, sensing my hesitation as we sat. “But the warden insists on using the glass dividers for violent criminals.”

  “Emmett hasn’t been convicted yet,” I replied. “For all we know, he could be innocent.”

  Jon said nothing and, instead, focused on organizing his papers while we waited. We sat for almost an hour in the silent room before Jon stood and left. He returned quickly, and I looked up expectantly, only for him to shake his head. I took the hint and stayed seated.

  “The guard outside said it should only be a few more minutes,” he said. “Emmett has apparently been less than cooperative this morning, and it took a while to get him down here.”

  I nodded and heard the clank of gates opening and closing down the hall. I fidgeted anxiously, wondering what type of man would come walking in the door on the other side of the glass. When it suddenly swung open, I had to stifle a gasp. Two guards escorted a man in handcuffs over to us, and I got my first good look at Emmett Cruz. He was tall, tall to the point that he towered over everyone else in the room. He was still wearing his street clothes, and his grease spattered white t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, barely containing it. He was a big, powerful-looking man, one that looked like he was capable of murder. Despite this, I couldn’t help but notice how handsome he was as well.

  The guards walked him over to us and took off the handcuffs that had kept his hands bound behind his back. Emmett sat hunched over, rubbing at his wrists and staring at the desktop. I couldn’t help but notice how young he looked, even with the slightly overgrown beard that covered his cheeks. I’d be very surprised if he was a day over 25. His sandy blond hair was long enough to reach his shoulders, and he had it tucked behind his ears where it hung in greasy strings. It looked like the type of mane that would be magazine cover material after a good wash. I broke my gaze from Emmett to shoot an uncertain glance at Jon. He motioned for me to pick up the phone then tapped the glass to signal Emmett to do the same.

  “Mr. Cruz!” Jon said cheerfully. “Allow me to introduce Olivia, your court-assigned defense attorney. My name is Jon, and I’ll be assisting her throughout your trial, acting as her mentor. I was hoping we could talk a little, get to know each other, and discuss what the best plan of action for the next few weeks.”

  “I didn’t ask for a lawyer,” Emmett growled. His gaze was focused on the desk in front of him, making it clear he wanted nothing to do with us.

  “I’m well aware of that, but the court decided it was in your best interest to have one assigned to you. We need to start planning your defense strategy right away. You’ve been charged with first-degree murder, Mr. Cruz. Surely I don’t have to explain the gravity of the situation to you.”

  “I’m innocent. I swear that on my life,” Emmett said. Jon looked like he was about to launch into another one of his long-winded speeches, but I decided to interrupt him. I was Emmett’s attorney after all.

  “If that’s true, then you need us all the more,” I said, trying to find a tone that was sympathetic but not condescending. Jon gave me a sharp look but let me continue. “Let us help you, Emmett. That’s all we’re trying to do.”

  “I don’t talk to lawyers.”

  “If you don’t have a defender when your case goes to trial, I can assure you that you will lose,” I replied sternly. “Sentences for murder charges are no laughing matter. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in a cell like this? Or risk a death sentence?”

  “To tell the truth, I don’t give two shits about you or any of this,” he spat. He finally looked up and met my eyes. His blue eyes blazed at me, filled to the brim with fiery anger. I should have felt scared, but instead, I felt another, fluttery different feeling stirring deep within me. “Threaten me all you want, but I already said everything I want to say to you.”

  My hands were starting to shake with my own anger. I was about to really lay into Emmett when a worn out looking police officer walked up to him, holding a leather jacket covered in patches. Emmett laid the phone on the table, the receiver pointing toward the two men on the other side.

  “What’s going on?” Jon asked. “We haven’t finished speaking to him. We still have fifteen more minutes.”

  “He’s done here. You’re more than welcome to talk to him outside, though,” the officer replied in a flat tone. “Your bail’s been posted, Mr. Cruz. You’re free to go.”

  Emmett stood up, ripping his jacket out of the officer’s hands. Just before he turned his back, he shot me a glance that sent shivers down my spine. All of my rage had subsided as quickly as it had sprung up, and for the second time, I felt that strange flutter. Was I attracted to this man? This dangerous, supposed murderer?

  “Who posted bail?” Jon asked as we heard Emmett slam the door behind him. “It was quite a large sum if I recall correctly.”

  “How should I know? The Devil's Martyrs probably pooled the funds from the rest of the gang. I'll let you figure out the rest.”

  “Interesting, thank you. We’ll see ourselves out.”

  “Sure thing,” the officer replied. “Just make sure you check out at the front desk before you leave.”

  “What happens now?” I asked as we headed down the hallway toward the exit.

  “Honestly, I’m not sure. You were assigned to Mr. Cruz, but he has every right to deny our assistance. I doubt we’ll get anywhere harassing him further, and especially once he’s back with his fellow bikers. They make it a hobby to beat up on outsiders who wander too far into their territory.”

  “So we just have to wait and see if he’ll come to us?”

  “That’s the idea. In all honesty, though, I’m fairly certain we’ll never see the likes of him again.”

  Chapter 4

  It was Friday and two days had passed since I’d spoken to Emmett. So far, Jon was right. I spent every hour of my time in the office staring at the door, willing Emmett to walk through. After spending all day yesterday reading over every scrap of information I had about the murder, I realized that, unless he actually talked to me, his case was dead in the water. I resigned to returning to work on the traffic disputes, but definitely not willingly. I’d had a taste of what it was like to work on a case with substance and it was hard to go back.

  Not that I had a lot of time to think about Emmett today. I hit the ground running the second I walked into the office. The morning was spent running up and down the stairs between my desk and the courtrooms below. I had three different hearings with my traffic dispute clients, and each one required a different set of complicated paperwork. If I wasn’t staring at the copy machine or the printer, I was sitting in front of a judge and arguing about why my client should get a reduced fee despite the fact that he clearly broke the law. It was exhausting, and I didn’t realize until around four o’clock that I had yet to eat lunch. I looked over at the sad brown bag I’d brought with me that morning and decided I’d rather wait an hour until I got home than eat the turkey sandwich I’d packed. What I did need, though, was more coffee. I sighed and trudged down the hall to the break room. Thankfully, the day was pretty much over now. All I had to do was finish filling out a few forms and then the weekend was all mine.

  I’d just finished pouring my cup and was about to head back to my office when I heard a motorcycle motor rumble to a stop outside. I rushed to one of the hall windows that faced the street and looked out, hoping to see Emmett. All I saw was the parked bike and no sight of its r
ider. It wasn’t uncommon to hear bike engines around this time of day with the bar so close to the courthouse, but they usually parked in the bar’s lot, not our street spaces. Hope started to spring up inside me. Maybe Emmett had decided to come to us after all.

  My suspicions were confirmed a few minutes later when Emmet strode through the door of the office with a determined look on his face. He’d cleaned up a bit since I saw him in the jail. His beard was trimmed down to stubble, and I could tell he’d showered. He still looked like a walking biker stereotype, though, with his stained jeans, leather jacket, and heavy leather boots. This was a different jacket, however, not the one covered in patches that he’d snatched out the guard’s hand at the prison. This one was plain black and fairly new looking. Was this his idea of going undercover?

  “I thought your kind didn’t talk to lawyers,” I said as he approached me.

  “Usually, we don’t,” he said, “but something’s come up.”

  He stopped, looking around at my co-workers. They seemed to have crept out of the woodwork the second Emmett had stepped through the door, and they were all openly gaping at him. I couldn’t blame them as I was staring at him wide-eyed myself.

  “Can we talk somewhere a little more private?” He continued, looking around stonily.

  “Of course,” I said.

  I gestured for him to follow me into my office. As I closed the door behind us, he plopped down in the chair opposite my desk. His hulking frame seemed to take up every ounce of extra space in the tiny room, and he shifted uncomfortably in the wooden chair. I sat as well and waited for him to start talking. Curiosity gnawed at me as he stared at me with those piercing eyes. What could possibly make this tough guy change his mind?

  “Look, what I said before about not talking to lawyers, please don’t take any of it personally. I have an image to maintain around the club and, truthfully, I usually don’t trust your type. Bikers are generally expected to handle our own shit, and I’ve already had to knock some sense into a couple of assholes who were angry that I got arrested in the first place.”

  “That’s understandable, I guess. What made you change your mind, though?”

  “I’d originally planned on just laying low when I heard rumors that the club had a hit out on Wildcard. I was thankful that I wasn’t the one that had to do it, but I thought I’d be extra careful. I even thought about skipping town, but I figured that would just make me look suspicious. The thing is, I have a three-year-old daughter with an ex of mine who lives a couple of towns over. My baby girl is everything to me. She’s what keeps me going some days, and she’s what kept me from running both before and after everything went down.”

  He stopped talking for a moment and stared up at the ceiling. His unreadable and grim facade was slipping, and I thought, for a moment, that I saw tears at the corners of his eyes. Before I could be certain, he cleared his throat and continued talking. His face was back to its usual grim coolness and any trace of emotion had been wiped away.

  “Ever since I got arrested, both my ex and child protection services have been up my ass. They’re telling me I can’t see my Lizzy, even though I got bailed out and haven’t been convicted of anything yet. If I run now, with a murder charge hanging over my head, there’s no way in hell they’ll let me anywhere near my daughter ever again. She’s the only reason I’m talking to you now. You need to prove that I’m innocent.”

  “We can do our best, Emmett,” I said carefully, “but this case is pretty airtight already. You have eyewitnesses and security footage that put you at the scene during the murder. Now, if you’re willing to plead guilty, then we…”

  “But I’m telling you, I’m innocent!” he yelled back. “Isn’t proving that what you people are supposed to do?”

  “Alright, but if you want me to help you, you’re going to tell me everything you know about what happened at the diner.”

  Chapter 5

  Two hours had passed since Emmett had walked into my office asking for help and, so far, we’d gotten precisely nowhere. Normally I’d be home eating dinner by now, and my stomach didn’t hesitate to remind me of that fact. I wanted to help Emmett, especially since he had come to me, but I couldn’t help but be frustrated. It seemed like no matter what questions I asked, or how I framed the situation, he wasn’t giving me any useful information. For a guy who seemed willing to do anything to secure his rights to see his daughter, he wasn’t being very cooperative.

  “OK, Emmett, one more time,” I said with a sigh, starting from the beginning for the third time now. It seemed insane at this point to ask questions I probably already knew the answers to, but I pressed on with the hope we might turn a corner this time. “Do you know anything at all that might help us point the investigation away from you? A name, a description, anything at all?”

  “I’m not a snitch,” he barked back. He’d said those exact words so many times, it was starting to become his mantra. I could tell by the way he crossed his arms across his chest that he was just as frustrated as I was. I didn’t care, though. He wasn’t leaving this room until I had some information I could actually do something with.

  “I know, you said that a plenty of times already. My response to that is the same. If you want my help, you’re going to have to start talking. The second any jury takes a look at the evidence, they’ll mark you guilty without a second thought. We have a man who looks exactly like you, and is on camera firing at Wildcard in the diner’s walk in freezer. Unless I can definitively prove that the man on the tape isn’t you, we have nothing.”

  “You’re going to have to find something yourself, then, because I told you, I ain’t about to snitch on one of my own.”

  “So you know who did it, then?” I asked. “It’s one of your fellow club members?”

  “No, I mean, yes. Shit! I know it’s one of the Martyrs, but that’s all I know. I figured you all already knew that.”

  “We suspected, but I’m glad you confirmed it. That’ll at least narrow down the suspect list.”

  “I shouldn’t have said that,” he said gloomily.

  I thought about cracking a joke, but one look at his expression told me that that would only make him angrier. I could feel the resentment for his situation pouring off of him. I wondered briefly what it was like to belong to a group so devoted to loyalty that Emmett was willing to go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.

  “That doesn’t have to go on anything official,” I said uneasily. “Now, you said earlier that you knew that Wildcard was going to be attacked. Was there any talk within the membership about this hit? ”

  “I don’t know,” he said, but the way his eyes skimmed away from me told me he did.

  “Please don’t lie to me,” I said wearily. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could play this game.

  “I’m not lying, I don’t know. I have my suspicions, but I never heard anyone openly talking about the hit. For the past few weeks, everyone seemed to clam up as soon as I got near them.”

  “Why don’t we start with who you think it is. I know, I know, you don’t snitch. But the best way to prove your innocence is to turn the investigation toward the actual perpetrator. It sounds like you have a decent idea of who it might be. You could come back tomorrow and take a look at the security footage. Maybe it’ll jog your memory.”

  “No, absolutely not,” he said. Looking at him sitting there with his stubbornly crossed arms cause something within me to snap. Why was someone who was obviously so irritated with his fellow club members so unwilling to cooperate?

  “Look, Emmett, if you’re not willing to talk, then you’re wasting both of our time,” I said. “In fact, I’m done wasting my time and energy on you. You can fight it out alone in court for all I care.”

  “But the court assigned you to me, you’re supposed to defend me!”

  “I can refuse any case I want!” I snarled back. Emmett’s eyes went wide for a moment before rage sprung up in them.

  “Fine. I don’t know why I e
ven bothered sticking my neck out like this to talk to you. I’ll just have to figure out another way to see my daughter.”

  I wanted to snap back at him and tell him just how much I cared about him and his daughter, but I held my tongue. There was no need to be hurtful since I was just angry at his lack of cooperation. I did need to get out of the room and away from Emmett, though, before my mouth ran away from me. Just as I stood to storm out of the room, Jon opened the door and glared at me until I sat back down. How much of that conversation had he heard?

  “Emmett, would you mind giving us a little privacy?” he said in an even tone. “If you would just wait outside in the hall for a moment?”

  Emmett stormed out and shut the door behind him. Jon turned to me with irritated eyes and as he sat down, I braced myself for the worst.