The Cartel Lawyer: A Legal Thriller

by Dave Daren

  Chapter 18

  I was on autopilot as I started the drive back to my apartment. I replayed the conversation with Osvaldo, the subtle threat that my life would be forfeit if I didn’t choose the ‘smart way’ of doing things, and the constant metal click of Alvaro’s switchblade as he opened and shut it in a steady rhythm.

  Guilt tore into me as I drove home. I took my vows as an officer of the court seriously, and blackmailing the judge went against everything I knew. But, I thought to myself as I pulled to a stop at a red light, it was a gray area, and it was one I’d walked through before as a defense lawyer. I had convinced people to do the ‘smart thing’ to haggle for my client’s freedom, and I told myself it was no different than those moments.

  Besides, the judge was corrupt. He’d willingly sentenced hundreds of teens to the Everson Juvenile Detention Center even though he knew that the facility was subpar and the sentence was unjust. He had ruined the lives of countless people with his greed, and as long as he didn’t do anything stupid, he wouldn’t come to any harm. He would finally do some good when he released Camilo, and he’d have more money in his campaign fund.

  It was a win-win. My mother would receive her treatments, the judge would learn his lesson and work to help my client, and Eloa would take down the facility so that no one else would have to live in the terrible place. But that presented a different problem, since I’d tipped Eloa off to the possibility of judicial corruption. My client wouldn’t be happy if her investigation took down his pet judge as well.

  My stomach growled as the light turned green, and I debated whether I should go home to eat the arroz con pollo in my freezer, or if I should call Eloa and ask for a meeting. The sooner I let the beautiful reporter know that I had to bow out of our investigation, the better. So I fished my phone out of my pocket and searched for the Brazilian bombshell’s number to invite her to dinner.

  “Hello?” she answered on the first ring.

  She was out of breath, and I could hear the gentle whir of a treadmill mixed with the steady pounding of her feet as she ran.

  “Hey, is this a bad time?” I asked.

  “No,” she panted. “I’m just getting in a quick workout. Is everything okay?”

  “I know our dinner isn’t until tomorrow, but do you think we could meet tonight instead?” I questioned as I tried not to picture her on the treadmill with flushed cheeks and a mist of sweat on her forehead.

  I focused my attention on the road instead as I neared my apartment, though the constant heavy breathing that came from my phone was hard to ignore. I was grateful when I heard the beep of the machine as she turned it off, but the sound of her drinking water also tempted me to picture the breathtaking woman as she worked out.

  “Tonight?” she asked when she’d finished with her water, and I could almost picture her dabbing a towel across her forehead as she left the treadmill behind.

  “Yes,” I answered. “Unless you’ve already eaten.”

  The sun had almost completely set behind the city horizon as I pulled up to my apartment building. The last golden rays of daylight drifted down the streets while the bright mango, lavender, and dusty rose clouds began to give way to the darkness of night. The evening air had begun to cool, and the salty breeze carried the scent of the ocean.

  “I haven’t,” she replied. “But my car is in the shop right now, so we may have to wait until tomorrow when it’s finished.”

  “Oh,” I said as I put my ancient blue Honda in park and grabbed my briefcase. “I could pick you up if you want.”

  I didn’t want to wait any longer than necessary to tell her that I had to step away from the case. She could find another lawyer to help her out since she had a really strong case against the facility, and I needed to focus on getting Camillo released.

  “Or we can relocate dinner to my place,” the Brazillian bombshell suggested.

  “I think I can make that work,” I said while I climbed the stairs to my apartment. “I’ll change into something more comfortable and head over. Is half an hour okay?”

  “Sure,” she replied. “That’ll give me time to wash up.”

  “Is your gym close to your apartment?” I asked as I let myself into my home.

  My eyes swept around the wide open space to check for Alvaro, though I knew that the tall shadowy man wouldn’t be able to beat me to the place when he’d still been in Osvaldo’s office when I left.

  “Yeah,” Eloa responded. “It’s part of the community area that makes up the bottom level of the warehouse.”

  “That’s very convenient,” I said with a grin as I set my briefcase down on the counter. “I usually just go for a jog in the park near my house. It’s about a two and a half mile loop.”

  “Oh I bet that’s beautiful,” the gorgeous woman responded as she began to climb the stairs to her own home.

  The sound of her footsteps echoed around the open space of the converted warehouse, and she began to breath harder as she picked up her pace.

  “It is really nice,” I answered as I tried to ignore her breathing in my ear. “I usually go for a run in the middle of the night when there’s not many people out.”

  “Miami is beautiful at night,” the reporter said. “The lights of the city are as close to stars as we can get.”

  “They are pretty peaceful,” I agreed. “It always helps me to clear my head and make sense of whatever case I’m working on.”

  “That’s how I feel when I’m on the treadmill,” Eloa said. “But when something is really giving me trouble, I go to the weights.”

  “It shows,” I said with a smile as I put my phone on speaker and began to undress. “I’m about to jump in the shower. I hope you don’t mind jeans and a t-shirt.”

  “I don’t,” the beautiful woman replied. “I’ll wear something comfortable too. See you in about half an hour.”

  “See you then,” I said before I disconnected.

  I took a deep breath in as I forced myself to stop thinking about the gorgeous reporter and the way she’d panted in my ear as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. I would need a cold shower before I joined her for dinner, a long one, though I was fairly certain that I would need another by the end of the night.

  The drive to Eloa’s apartment was quick as I’d hit a good patch of fast moving traffic, and soon I was pulling up to the curb outside of the renovated warehouse. I checked my rearview mirror before I climbed out just to be sure my hair had been tamed into something presentable and my glasses hid at least some of the bags under my eyes.

  There were only a few flights of stairs to reach her apartment, but by the time I had made it to the landing, I had started to run out of breath. I put one hand on the wall as I forced myself to take a deep breath in and then slowly let it out as my heart calmed it’s chaotic rhythm.

  As soon as I could breathe like a normal human being, I ran my hands through my hair and then knocked on the door. I could hear music on the other side of the wooden slab, some pop song I didn’t recognize, but it was quickly paused as she came to open the door.

  “Hey!” the gorgeous woman said as she gave me a long up and down look.

  She had her long brown hair tugged up into a ponytail that swung behind her head as she looked at me. She had taken the casual look seriously with pale-gray shorts that were rolled up to show most of her muscular thighs, bare feet, and a loose black crop top with a kitten on it that was barely long enough to cover her ample breasts.

  “Hey,” I said with a grin that matched hers as I tried not to look at the hint of flesh at the bottom or her shirt.

  “Thanks for coming here,” she said while she spun around and strolled into the kitchen.

  The crease of her butt was visible as she walked, and I was suddenly glad that my jeans weren’t too tight. She was absolutely gorgeous, and all I wanted to do was kiss her again, but I had business to conduct.

  I distracted myself with a look around her apartment. It had the high arched windows, bare red brick,
and the concrete floors that had been covered with fluffy gray area rugs. There was a bright red metal spiral staircase that led to a loft area where I could just make out a large bed. There was a door underneath the stairs that I assumed led to the bathroom, and she had a massive blue sectional that faced a large flat screen TV.

  Her kitchen had tall cabinets that almost reached the high ceilings, and an island with a sink in the middle separated the kitchen from the dining area. All of her appliances were a shiny silver that had been polished so well they were almost reflective.

  “I didn’t have time to shop,” Eloa said as she washed vegetables in the island’s sink. “But I had all of the ingredients for spaghetti and salad.”

  “That sounds delicious,” I responded then gave the air a sniff. There was a faint smell of garlic, and my stomach growled again as my mouth started to water. “Is there garlic bread?”

  “Of course,” the Brazilian bombshell said with a grin as she rolled her eyes playfully. “You can’t have Italian without garlic bread.”

  “Naturally,” I said with a chuckle. “It smells amazing.”

  “Thanks,” she said with a faint blush that made my stomach flip. “I put bell peppers, onions, and fresh garlic in the sauce.”

  “So you like to cook?” I asked as I sat on one of the stools at the island.

  “When I have the time to,” she gave a one shoulder shrug. “I have to be careful what I eat. The camera adds ten pounds you know.”

  “You look beautiful to me,” I said as I lifted an eyebrow then leaned forward to look her over appreciatively.

  “What did you… what did you want to talk about?” the gorgeous woman stuttered as I sat back on my stool with a smirk.

  “Right,” I said as my good mood deflated a bit.

  I shifted in my seat as I watched her peel and chop the cucumbers and carrots for the salad.

  “Is it bad?” she asked with a glance up from her work.

  “No,” I answered. “Well, I mean, it’s not terrible.”

  “Okay,” she tilted her head to the side but kept her focus on the romaine lettuce she had begun to cut. “Are you going to make me wait until after dinner?”

  “Well, I am very hungry,” I said after my stomach began to growl again.

  The sound was loud in the relatively quiet apartment, and I felt my cheeks burn with embarrassment at the aggressive noise.

  “When’s the last time you ate?” she asked with a giggle while she threw all of the salad ingredients into a large bowl.

  “I vaguely remember having an orange for breakfast,” I said as I tried to picture everything that I had eaten during the course of the day. “And lots of coffee.”

  “Coffee is not a food group,” the beautiful woman said. “Though I can’t say I haven’t had those days. I’m glad you’ll be able to eat a full dinner.”

  “I am, too,” I said. “I have some leftover arroz con pollo in the freezer that my mother made.”

  “Your mother cooks you dinners?” the reporter teased.

  “I am, and I quote, ‘a total disaster in the kitchen’,” I said with a shake of my head. “I do cook sometimes. But my mother likes to make extra meals for me, and I am not one to turn down free food.”

  “What’s your mother like?” the gorgeous woman asked as she turned to check on the spaghetti.

  “Beautiful, feisty, determined,” I said as I thought of my ama. “She worked two or three jobs at a time when I was growing up and even helped me to pay for law school. She’s also the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, and she will not hesitate to scream at me in Spanish even if we’re in public.”

  “Something tells me she’s done that before,” Eloa said with a smirk.

  “Oh, she has,” I responded. “I had some wayward moments growing up, and she was quick to straighten me out.”

  “Do you mind if I ask about your father?” the beautiful woman asked while she pulled the garlic bread out of the oven.

  It was the perfect golden brown, and I could see the olive oil and garlic that covered its surface.

  “He died when I was very young,” I said. “He was in a car crash. I don’t remember much about him, but he used to dance with my mother in the kitchen while she cooked. She’d complain the whole time, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so happy.”

  “They sound wonderful,” she grinned up at me before she started to assemble the plates.

  She swirled an almost unhealthy amount of spaghetti onto each plate, smothered it in sauce, and then put two pieces of the garlic bread on each plate.

  “They were,” I told her as I stood and came around to grab the salad bowl. “Are we eating at the table?”

  I looked toward the round, four person table a few feet of way. It had two open placemats and two that were covered in notebooks, loose papers, and her laptop.

  “Yes,” she said with a nod while she put a fork on each plate.

  We sat so close to each other that her knee brushed against mine, and for the second that she rested it against mine, I had to remember how to breathe properly. I wanted to reach over and kiss her, but instead I swirled pasta around my fork and stuffed a large bite into my mouth.

  “This is amazing,” I said after I’d managed to swallow the too large bite.

  “Thanks,” she said. “I forgot the salad bowls and dressing. Do you prefer ranch or Italian?”

  “Italian,” I answered.

  “Okay,” she sauntered into the kitchen and then returned with the bowls and dressing.

  We ate in silence for a few minutes, until I had finished my salad and half of my pasta. I was so full that I couldn’t eat another bite, and I pushed my plate away from myself with a contented smile. I hadn’t had such delicious pasta in a long time, but the peppers and onions had added just the right amount of spice, and I was sure that I could get used to eating it on a more regular basis.

  “Now that you’re fed,” she said when she noticed that I was finished. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “I won’t be able to represent your case against the Everson Juvenile Detention Center,” I told her.

  I braced myself for the stream of questions or the anger that might follow my declaration. We had worked hard together over the last few days, and I was sure that she would want to know why I was suddenly backing out.

  “Why?” she asked with a tilt of her head.

  “It’s a conflict of interest with a new case that I have,” I hedged. “But you have a strong case, and any attorney you ask will be able to take it up in their sleep and have the place shut down.”

  “You’re positive you can’t help me?” she stuck out her bottom lip a little in a pout that made my pulse race.

  “Yes,” I said with a sympathetic smile. “Like I said, it would be a conflict of interest.”

  “Hmm,” she said as she stood and gathered our plates.

  “I really am sorry,” I said while I helped her to bring the dirty dishes into the kitchen with her.

  “It’s okay,” she said with a small shrug. “I understand.”

  She scraped the scraps of spaghetti into the trash before she pulled out containers for the leftovers. She handed me a bowl for the salad while she took care of the noodles, sauce, and garlic bread.

  “I’ve enjoyed working with you,” I told her once she’d put everything in the fridge.

  “I have, too,” she said with one of those bright smiles that made my mind go blank for a second. “Do you want a drink? To celebrate the end of our working relationship?”

  “Sure,” I said and then reached over her to help her reach the wine glasses that she had started to stretch for. “So, you’re not mad?”

  “No,” she told me as she twisted around so that she faced me. “Actually, since we don’t have to be professional anymore, I thought that we might be able to get to know each other better.”

  “I would be interested in that,” I said while I took a step back to give her enough space to get into the ute
nsils drawer for the corkscrew.

  “Great!” she exclaimed as she opened a bottle of red wine and poured us two hearty glasses.

  I took a sip of the dry red wine. It was delicious, but all I could focus on was the way that it stained her bow shaped lips. I remembered the last, only, kiss she’d given me. It had been sweet and soft, and it had left me yearning for more.

  My eyes drifted down the length of her well-toned body, to her muscular calves and thighs, and then back up to the hint of her breasts that peaked out from the bottom of her black crop top.

  “This wine is wonderful,” I said as I licked my lips and forced my eyes back up to hers.

  “It is,” she replied before she set her glass down and then crossed the small space between us.

  She ran her hands up my chest, and my heart began to hammer against my ribcage while my pants became tighter. She took the glass from my hand and set it on the counter before she stood on her tiptoes to brush her lips against mine.

  “Are you sure?” I asked as I wrapped my arms around her hips to rest my hands on her round butt.

  “I have never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” she whispered. “And if we’re not going to be working together anymore, then we’re free to do whatever we want.”

  “That does sound enticing,” I said as I leaned down to kiss her again.

  She opened her mouth to let my tongue in, and I tasted spaghetti mixed with the red wine. I heard my stomach grumble again, just for a moment, and then I indulged in the softness of her lips. I trailed kisses down the side of her neck as I reached up into the bottom of her shorts and lifted her onto the counter.

  “Rob,” she gasped when I nipped at the soft flesh at the nape of her neck. “I want to go to bed with you. Now.”

  “I’m at your command,” I chuckled before I took her earlobe between my teeth.

  “Let’s go,” she demanded as she pushed at my chest.

  “As you wish,” I said while I took a step back to let her jump down from the counter.

  “The bed’s upstairs,” she informed me as she slipped her hand into mine and began to tug me toward the bright-red spiral staircase.

  The stairs creaked under our weight as I followed her up into the loft. I watched her every step as my need for her grew until it was almost unbearable. I grinned as we reached the bedroom, and she started to tug off my clothes.