All In: Raising the Stakes

by Lane Hart

  "I'm sure you and your…dick will survive the famine. Also, do I really have to tell you not to use any drugs or get drunk in public?"

  "For Christ's sake, woman, I'm a professional athlete! I don't ever touch any of that shit," he replies.

  "Well, good for you," I say, surprised by his statement. "But don't start now because of the stress of all that's going on."

  "If I can't fuck and I can't fight, then I guess I'll be doing a shitload of training."

  "That should be fine," I agree. "As long as you're available when I call and need information from you, or for you to come in to do some trial prep work. This case has to be the most important thing in your life for the next few months."

  "I get that. If we lose, I'm out of the cage for good."

  "Not only that, but these are very serious offenses. If you get convicted you could get an active sentence of up to three hundred months …"

  "Three hundred months! What the fuck!?!" he yells, practically coming out of his seat.

  "That's just for the rape charge. Add another maximum of twenty months if you're convicted on the assault by strangulation charge."

  "Goddamn! What the hell is three hundred and twenty months?" he asks, his forehead so furrowed trying to do the math that he looks like he's in pain.

  "A little less than twenty-seven years."

  Malone’s face goes slack, his tan skin turns pale white, and then he really is out of his chair, scrambling for the small black trash can beside my desk.

  In that moment I feel an unexpected twinge of sympathy for him. He's known for being a tough, badass fighter, and at the moment he's on his knees losing all the contents of his stomach. He almost looks…vulnerable.

  I grab a few tissues from the dispenser on my desk and hand them to him when it sounds like he's finished. He eventually accepts my offering, looking up at me with dark, watery eyes, seeming more like a scared boy than a violent criminal.

  "You can't let them convict me," he pleads. "I swear I didn't do it."

  I have to look away from his sad, pitiful, puppy dog eyes before they suck me in. I'm still a sucker for strays. "Those are just the maximum sentences. You know, the worst case scenario sentences. With a clean record and a decent judge, you might only get the minimum of a hundred and fifty-four months. A little less than thirteen years," I say, doing the math for him.

  "Thirteen…fuck! I wouldn't get out until I'm forty fucking years old," he mutters, hanging his head while wiping off his mouth.

  Eventually he rises gracefully to his feet and sits back down in his chair with hunched shoulders. I go around my desk and pick up the smelly trash can, taking it out in the hallway for my fellow coworkers to enjoy. Ha! Take that you bastards.

  "It's important for you to understand what you're facing upon conviction,” I tell Jackson as I return to my seat. “Because if the prosecutor offers a plea deal to a lesser offense like assault on a female with just a few years active, it's worth considering."

  "I'm not pleading guilty," he says gruffly.

  "Even though serving three or four years is a heck of a lot better than twenty-seven or thirteen years?" I ask in disbelief.

  "I’m not. Pleading. Guilty. I didn't rape that bitch, and I'll take the risk of doing the extra time before I fucking say I did it."

  He may think that now, but when the evidence starts coming in, he'll probably change his mind.

  "All right, so let's get ready for trial."

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  ALSO AVAILABLE FROM LANE HART

  The Gambling with Love Series

  All In: Double or Nothing

  All In: Betting on a Full House

  All In: Calling His Bluff

  All In: Playing the Fool

  All In: Playing to Win

  All In: Paying to Play

  Bound by Blood Paranormal Romance Series

  Blood Drive

  Blood Ties

  Blood Loss

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  New York Times bestselling author Lane Hart was born and raised in North Carolina. She continues to live in the south with her husband, two daughters, and several pets named after Star Wars characters.

  When Lane's not writing or reading sexy novels, she can be found in the summer on the beaches of the east coast, and in the fall watching football, cheering on the Carolina Panthers.

  Connect with Lane:

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/WritingfromHart

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/lanehartbooks

  Website: http://www.lanehartbooks.com