by Alexa Davis
"Dax, you need to come clean," she said as she scribbled on a legal pad.
"Huh?"
"You need to come clean with me," she repeated. "You have attorney-client privilege, so you don't have to worry about anything leaking out or being discovered. We'll work through it together, but you have to tell me the truth."
"I am," I said as I ran a hand through my hair and stroked my chin.
"No, you're not," she said as she looked at me. "You're not telling me the whole truth, and I'm going to tell you right now that if you don't tell me the truth, it will only hurt you in the end. I will launch a strong legal defense, but if I'm blindsided by things that I don't know, then it will only make you look guilty – and piss me off."
I sat silently thinking about how to tell her everything. If I spilled it all, I might lose her, but if I didn't, I might go to prison for a crime I didn't commit and I'd lose her. It was a no-win situation that I couldn't see my way out of without telling her the truth.
"Look, I’ll believe you," she said softly. "No matter what you say, I believe that you didn't kill Lydia Banks."
"You just don't understand," I said shaking my head. It suddenly dawned on me that if I told Brooke everything, I'd also be putting her at risk with the other gangs. If they thought my lawyer knew it all, they might kill her to eliminate the chance of a leak. Like Lydia. Damn. "It's complicated."
"It's not that complicated," she said shaking her head. "Start somewhere and tell me what's going on. I need to know this stuff so that I can figure out how to approach it in court."
"Brooke, you really don't get it," I said shaking my head. "If I tell you everything, then I'm putting you at risk."
"And, if you don't tell me everything, then you're putting yourself at risk!" she shouted. I could tell that she was getting frustrated with me and while I wanted to tell her what she was demanding to know, I wanted to protect her more.
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" she shouted as she threw her pen down on the pad of paper and stood up. "I'm so sick of everyone thinking I'm some kind of fragile flower who can't handle things! You are all pissing me off!"
"Brooke?" I said unsure where this tirade was coming from. "Listen to me, this isn't about you not being strong enough. This is about real danger. This is about me telling you things that will put you at risk."
"And you don't think I already am at risk simply by taking your case?" she challenged angrily. "I'm a lawyer, dammit! This is what I do for a living! You need to let me do my job!"
"I'm trying," I said as I hid a smile. She was trying to go big dog on me, and while I appreciated the attempt, I also knew that I couldn't just dump the information on her and then leave her to deal with it. I needed to find a way to ensure that once I told her about my business, she'd be safe as she went about investigating my story and constructing a solid defense.
"Why are you smiling?"
"You're kind of cute when you're mad," I told her. She stopped pacing the space behind her desk and turned her laser-like stare in my direction.
"That's it," she said narrowing her eyes. "If you can't treat me like the professional I am, then you need to find yourself another lawyer, buster."
"Oh, Brooke, don't work yourself up into a frenzy," I chuckled.
"Do not treat me like a child, Mr. Malone," she warned. "I won't stand for it. I'm your lawyer and you need to treat me like you would any other lawyer you'd hire to represent you. I'm sorry our sex got in the way of our professional relationship."
"Brooke, don't be mad," I said as I looked up at her wondering where this stubborn streak had come from. "C'mon, we're good together. You know it, and so do I."
"I'm a lawyer, Mr. Malone," she repeated and I could see that any further attempts to try and get her to lighten up would be met with extreme resistance and maybe even worse. "Treat me like a damn lawyer."
"Fine, you want to be treated like my lawyer, I'll treat you like my damn lawyer!" I yelled as my cell phone began frantically buzzing in my pocket. I reached down and pulled it out and glanced at the screen. On it was a message from Kesha that simply said: 911. 911. Club. 911. 911. I knew I couldn't ignore it. "Brooke, I have to go. There's a problem at the club and it's an emergency."
"Sure, sure," she said waving me off. "Go take care of it. We'll talk about your case in our meeting at noon."
"Brooke, please just wait to hear what I have to say," I said as I turned toward the door.
"That's all I ever asked," she said as she looked up at me from behind her desk. "Just tell me what's going on."
I nodded and then turned and quickly walked down the hall and out the door of Lewis, Lee, and Raines, LLC. I hoped that I'd be able to be back on time for the meeting.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Brooke
After Dax left my office, I sat staring at my desk, trying hard to push the memory of what we'd done on it out of my mind. The way that Dax had made my body come alive was unlike anything any man had ever done before, and while I felt my body aching for his touch, my brain told me that if I followed that path, it would lead to ruin. I needed to be a professional and ensure that Dax wasn't wrongly convicted of Lydia's murder.
Without a doubt, I believed he was innocent. Now, I just had to gather the evidence to prove it, but without his help, it was going to be a difficult task. I made a note on my legal pad to get Roger to gather all the news stories on Apex, Dax's club. Maybe if we followed the news, we'd find a pattern that would help explain some of the oddities of this case. Or maybe Dax would just open up and tell me what I wanted to know.
I was pissed at him for keeping secrets, and even more pissed that he and the men in my family seemed to believe that I was nothing more than a helpless little girl who couldn't be trusted to keep herself safe in a big bad world. I rolled my eyes as I felt my frustration growing.
I looked through my notes as I began to formulate some questions that needed answering. The first one was why was Dax the suspect? Hadn't Lydia had other clients? Why had the police zeroed in on Dax over all the rest? I got up and went to the kitchen area to make a pot of coffee, and as I passed the conference room, I noticed a stack of papers lying on the conference table. I flipped on the lights, walked around to the papers, and grabbed them, thinking they were the last bit of the mess that Jordie and Roger had made when I'd caught them brainstorming a few days ago.
As I walked back to the kitchen, I glanced down at the top sheet and noticed it was a fax cover sheet addressed to Banks and Associates, LLC. I quickly lifted it up and scanned the paper beneath it. It looked like a standard legal contract for the rights to a property on the edge of Skid Row. There didn't seem to be anything particularly strange about it, other than the fact that it was here in our offices. I didn't remember having any deals with this firm, but then, Jordie and Roger often had things going on that I didn't know much about. We weren't good about keeping each other up to date on the business if there was a lot of it rolling in – but then, we hadn't had a lot of business rolling in.
The more I thought about it, the weirder this seemed. The page was dated almost a year ago and as I thought about the time period, I realized that that was around the time Jake had left me and I wasn't in the office much. I cringed as I thought about how much that break-up had affected my life and how I'd been reduced to a blubbering puddle of sadness. A wave of shame washed over me as I remembered the months it had taken for me to pull myself out of the tailspin and get back to work. Roger and Jordie had covered for me and kept the business going, so whatever they'd done had most likely been necessary. But this was weird.
Why did they do business with Lydia's firm? I made a mental note to ask them once they arrived the next day. With a fresh cup of coffee and a determined outlook, I walked back to my office and began plowing through the files. I'd find something that would help us or die trying.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Dax
I pulled up in front of the club to find a fire truck and several ambulances
parked in front of the door and a large crowd of neighborhood residents and club goers standing behind a barricade on the opposite side of the street. I flashed my ID at the officer doing security and he waved me through.
"What the hell is going on?" I yelled as I slammed open the door to the club and found Kesha and two of the dancers standing in the middle of the dance floor as paramedics worked to revive a young woman with long, dark hair. The remnants of her silver club dress lay under her like a blanket, but her silver platform pumps were still on her feet.
The cops had evacuated the club while the paramedics worked on the girl, but no one had thought to turn off the music and lights. I told Diamond to go flip the switch on both, and she quickly moved away to take care of it. I looked back down at the girl and wondered what had happened. It wasn't the first time someone had OD'd in the club, in fact, we were prepared for that with vials of antidotes for various drugs. We understood the risks of drugs and knew that most ODs were accidents, but we didn't want to attract too much attention, so I kept a trained paramedic on staff. As a result, we'd normally avoid scrutiny.
"Kesha, what the hell happened?" I said under my breath as we watched the paramedics work.
"No idea, boss," she whispered. "This one was dancing like crazy and then she just dropped like a rock."
"Where's Javi?" I asked wondering why our resident paramedic was absent.
"That's the problem, boss," she said quietly. "He's treating four more in back. These guys don't know it, though. I tried to avoid attracting attention."
"Oh fuck," I felt my heart drop to my stomach. One we could explain as a reckless club kid who over did it, but five was way too many to explain away. "What the fuck happened?"
"Not a clue," she replied.
"Did the shipment arrive?" I asked.
"Yep, they brought it in just like clockwork," Kesha said.
"Did she buy the new stuff?" I could feel a wave of dread building as I started considering all the terrible possibilities.
"Not sure yet," she said as the paramedics loaded the girl onto a gurney and wheeled her out to the ambulance. I held the door for them and nodded when the investigating officer told me not to go anywhere.
"Fuck! Go check on the others," I said. I didn't want to draw unnecessary attention to the other club goers, but I also didn't want four dead kids in my back area when the cops came to search it. Kesha took off for the back. I crossed my fingers that Javi had been able to get to them in time.
When Kesha came back out and gave me the thumbs up, I asked where Riza was. Kesha pointed up at the office and I hightailed it up the stairs to talk with her.
"Ri, what the hell is going on here?" I demanded to know as I stormed into the office.
"Hey, get off my tits. This club is not my domain," she said as she stared at me.
"What the hell is wrong with you these days?" I was genuinely confused as to why my best friend and second in command had turned into a mean girl since Lydia's death.
"You really don't have a fucking clue, do you?" she said shaking her head. "You're such a self-centered asshole."
"Riza, what is going on?" I walked over and took her by her shoulders and shook her gently. "Talk to me. Seriously."
"Dax, you are so wrapped up in your business and pursuing this new lawyer," she spat. "Yeah, I see how you look at her and rush off to go fuck her all over town. Don't act like you’re shocked or offended."
"Wait, you're pissed because I'm after a chick?" I said, shocked to realize that Riza might be jealous.
"Oh God, don't go getting your panties in a wad," she said rolling her eyes. "I'm not jealous of her, I'm pissed because in this whole fucking mess you seem to have lost sight of family, dipshit."
"How have I lost sight of family?" I was bewildered by her accusation.
"You locked Beck up in a fucking mental hospital!" she screamed. "You don't do that to family!"
"I didn't lock Beck up in a mental ward, Ri," I said. "I told you that I put him in a rehab facility so he could dry out and stop using. That's not forgetting family, that's taking care of them!"
"He didn't want to go!" she yelled. I could see that she was extremely upset, but I couldn't understand why she couldn't see that what I'd done for Beck was to save him not hurt him.
"Yeah, well, kids don't want to eat their vegetables, but you make them eat them for their own good, right?"
"That's not the same thing, Dax!" she yelled. "You've always done this! You always think of what you want and what you need and you never fucking ask anyone else what they might want!"
"Riza, what the hell is going on?" I shouted. "Why are you so over the top about Beck? He's my brother! I know what's right for him!"
Riza stopped pacing, stood staring at me with her hands on her hips like she used to do when she was a kid. Stubborn and opinionated, she had never failed to stand up for me or Beck with Papi, and now she was yelling at me like I was him.
"Forget it," she said shaking her head as she dropped her fists and turned toward the door. "You're always right, we're always wrong. You win, Dax. You always win."
With that, she walked out the door and slammed it so hard the room shook. I had no idea what was going on, but I knew that I had to find out because things were quickly slipping out of my grasp. If I wasn't careful, I'd lose control of everything and send us all crashing to the ground.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Brooke
At eight o'clock, I heard Alma come in and begin her morning routine. I didn't get up, because one thing I'd learned about Alma was that she did not like her morning routine interrupted and that she'd come talk to me when she was good and ready. I continued reading Dax's file until I heard a knock on my door.
"Come in," I called as I looked up and saw our office secretary standing at the door with a worried look on her face. "Good morning, Alma. How can I help you?"
"Good morning, Ms. Raines," she said. Alma was holding a sheet of paper in her hand. "This is not good, not good at all."
"What isn't good?" I asked as I looked at the sheet she was holding.
"This," she said as she crossed the room and held it out to me. "It came on the fax machine a little while ago. This is not good, Ms. Raines."
I gave her a confused look as I took the paper and scanned it. It was a standard fax sheet with my name and our law firm's name clearly printed in the recipient boxes. What was disturbing was the drawing below the information. It was set up in triptych form with a hand drawn picture of a woman kneeling, then a second with a gun held by a hand without a body pointed at the back of her head, and the third panel was the same woman with a dark spot in the center of for forehead floating in a body of water. Her eyes were two large X’s, and in all of the drawings, the woman was nude.
Underneath the drawings was a note that said: You're next.
I looked up at Alma and then back down at the fax. "When did this come in?" I asked.
"Just a few minutes ago while I was making coffee," she said as she stood in front of me with a miserable look on her face. "This is not good, Ms. Raines. This is not good at all."
"So I've heard," I said, immediately feeling guilty for feeling frustrated with the woman. "Alma, are you alright?"
"Ms. Raines, I've never worked in an office where there have been death threats made," she said. "I'm not comfortable with this level of violence in a law firm."
"Well, don't worry. We're going to get to the bottom of this and no one is going to be harmed," I said trying to reassure her. My mind was spinning as I tried to think calmly about why someone would send a threatening fax to our firm and why they would threaten me specifically. "Have Jordie and Roger come in yet?"
"Mr. Lee called to say he was on his way and Mr. Lewis came in when I did," Alma replied as she twisted her hands and plucked at her sweater.
"Alma, I don't want you to worry about this, okay?"
"Okay, Ms. Raines, I'll do my best to carry on and not worry," she nodded. I knew she was lying, bu
t I needed her to keep the front desk together while I tried to figure out what the hell was going on.
As soon as Alma went back to her desk, I walked down the hall to Roger's office and tapped on his door. "Roger, you got a minute to talk about something weird?" I called as I cracked the door.
He was on the phone and hadn't heard me knocking. I cracked the door a little wider and was about to call his name, when I overheard him talking to someone on the other end of his phone.
"No, she has no idea," he said. "Yeah, I think I can get what I need from her. No, I don't think she has any idea that we're onto her. Uh huh, I'll take care of that this afternoon. Okay, now stop calling me, you're gonna get us both in trouble. Okay, bye."
I stepped back out into the hall and pulled the door partially shut before I tapped on it again and called Roger's name.
"Hey Brooke, c'mon in and have a seat," he said in his surfer dude tone. There was something unsettling about having heard him talking in such straightforward terms to the person on the phone and then switching back to his laid back voice to talk with me. Somehow, it felt like it should have been the other way around.
"Got anything on the Malone case, Roger?" I asked as I watched him closely.
"Yeah, actually. I'm going to head out to the marina this afternoon and check out the boat," he said as he shuffled papers around on his desk. "I think one of the dock managers saw Lydia out there alive a few days before she turned up in the water, so I want to get his statement before he forgets everything."