by Julie Morgan
What the hell evidence did the prosecution have that we weren’t already aware of? My gut told me Miranda’s mother was behind the accusations. She wanted a payout, and in court today, she was here wearing a designer outfit that her salary couldn’t afford. Considering the payout she’d be expecting on Miranda’s behalf, I wondered how much of this was her doing.
Did I think Lance was guilty? No, I didn’t. Did we think Miranda’s family was after a payout? Absolutely. They’d offered to settle out of court, but settling would show a sign of guilt, and well, Lance was not guilty.
And it was up to Chase Newstrom to prove that.
And he would. He always did.
Chapter Two
Chase
Signed, sealed, and delivered. That was what I had expected when I woke this morning. A clean-cut case of an innocent man who had been accused of a heinous act he had not committed. At least that was what I had thought before the prosecutor moved to introduce new evidence.
As defense attorneys, we had the right to review the evidence disclosed. The defense was entitled to know about the prosecution’s case before trial and vice versa. Nothing was kept as a secret. We had ample opportunity to study all sides of the case. Our side, their side, and, somewhere in the middle, the truth. To pull this crap toward the end of their case was not only wrong, but it could potentially cause the case to be thrown out. No one wanted to start over, but if it meant a win for my team and me, we’d take it.
I could always hope, but we’d review this new evidence regardless. As lawyers, it was what we did, and Lance would be a free man soon.
The prosecution had offered a plea deal, which we’d refused. Admit guilt, and the sentence would be a year in jail with four years’ probation. If my client were actually guilty, it would be a great plea, but my client was innocent. We promptly gave them a “hell no,” followed by, “see you in court.”
They’d better hold on to hope that once this was over, we wouldn’t slap the family with a countersuit.
As soon as Ainsley and I entered my office building, I closed the doors behind us. The only sound was the hum of the air conditioner. It was late afternoon on a Friday, and soon the sun would set. Everyone else in the office had their door closed or was off having a glass of something other than water.
Tonight was supposed to end in victory. Instead, it ended with me back here, trying to figure out what went wrong.
“Did you know about this witness?” I asked Ainsley Speire, my intern. She wore a black dress, and her auburn hair was braided to the side. She was a plain-Jane kind of woman with curves. She was stacked and attractive but not the type I’d normally go for.
I didn’t even know if I had a type, but the women on my arm were typically models or someone equally successful as me. I didn’t date other lawyers. It ended badly, at least in my experience.
Ainsley shook her head. “No, sir, I didn’t. I know as much as you do at the moment.”
“Well, it’s your job to make sure shit like this doesn’t happen.”
I hated surprises. Don’t sneak up on me with anything, and we’d be just fine. But if you hit me with something in court that I had not been privy to? It was a sure way to get your ass spanked by the hand of the law. I took what I did very seriously, and if anyone fucked with that or got in my way, I’d mow them over before they realized anything had happened.
Ainsley took a seat at the table in my office and opened her briefcase. She hadn’t responded to my statement, which was fine. I argued for a living, but I didn’t necessarily want to fight with my own staff. I didn’t feel the need to show her where she was wrong and how to fix it. If I did that for her every time she fucked up, how would she learn?
Did she fuck up? No, not necessarily, but I had relied on her to prepare everything I needed for this case. If she wanted this to be her career, she needed to learn the ropes and learn them the hard way, like I had. If everything was always given to you, how would you ever learn? You wouldn’t, at least not in my corner of the world. You busted your ass for what you wanted, whether for your career or for personal gains.
With a sigh, I removed my jacket and tie, unbuttoned the first two buttons of my dress shirt, and rolled my sleeves up to midforearm.
I pulled out a chair from the table and took a seat. “Who the hell is this new witness?” I met Ainsley’s gaze and found her staring at me. I frowned. “What is it?”
She quickly shook her head, and a blush crept to her cheeks. She cleared her throat and started talking. “I’m reading over his information now. Please, just a moment so I can finish?”
“Fine,” I mumbled, crossing my arms over my chest and then pinching the bridge of my nose. I glanced over to Ainsley and found her watching me again. “Seriously, what is it?”
“Oh,” she said, startled, and she looked back down to the documents in front of her. The blush on her cheeks darkened. “I figured,” she started in a soft, mouselike voice, “since you were getting comfortable, I might remove my shoes. My feet hurt.”
I shrugged. “Do whatever you need to do. We need to get this shit settled.” My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out with a sigh. “Shit,” I growled and sat back in my chair.
“Everything okay?” Ainsley asked.
I raised my brows and then cocked my head to the side and looked at her. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just forgot I had something to do tonight.” More like someone, but Ainsley didn’t need to know that.
I had a date with a model. We had been seeing each other for a few months now, but by seeing, it was no more than her showing up at my place, me fucking her, and then her leaving. We laughed at each other’s jokes and pretended we were interested, but it was nothing more than sex. She was taking off for London soon. Maybe tonight would be her farewell fuck-off. I smirked at my own thoughts.
“Yeah, I have something—”
“Did you find what you were looking for?” I asked at the same time.
Ainsley cleared her throat. “Umm”—she paused to look at me and then back to the papers—“sort of. Someone has stated they witnessed the rape by peeking into the room while it was happening.”
I guffawed at her findings. “Bullshit. Who was it?”
“I’m looking into it.” She wrote something down on her paper. “I’ll get you a name soon.”
“So you have this handled, then?” I asked and stood from my chair. My phone buzzed again, and I shoved it into my pocket. My date would have to wait. They said patience was a virtue, although with her, it appeared to have run off with her virginity.
Ainsley looked up at me as if I had asked her a question in a foreign language.
“Well, I did have plans tonight,” she said.
“You’re going to have to change them. Welcome to the world of being a defense attorney, Ainsley.” I pulled my keys from my pocket and tapped my desk. “There’s a set of keys in the top drawer to lock up. I expect you to find out what you can about this new key witness before you head home. Or take it home with you. Doesn’t matter to me. Just get it done. Understood? We’ll meet back here tomorrow morning to review your findings.”
She looked down at the stack of folders and files in front of her. With a sigh, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
I stepped past her and opened my office door before glancing over my shoulder at the young woman in my office. She had the world ahead of her. She would appreciate this one day. Maybe not tonight or this weekend, but if she wanted to continue working here, to get ahead in this field and get a letter of recommendation from me, then she would do what needed to be done.
As for me, I had a beautiful woman waiting. No relationship crap, just sex, booze, and maybe a cigar when we finished.
I thought about my older brother. He was married and had three kids, two boys and a girl. “One day you’re going to meet a woman who will knock you on your ass, and you won’t know which way is up,” he’d said once. “And I want to be there when it happens!”
Not today, brother,
or any other day. Fuck being someone’s other half. I didn’t have time for that crap.
I climbed in behind the wheel of my Audi and sped down the road toward my home. I glanced in the rearview mirror and watched my office building grow smaller and smaller the more distance I put between us.
Monday, we would walk into the courthouse, ready to put this case to bed and free my client. This would be the last weekend Lance had to spend any time behind bars. As soon as he was released, my cleanup team would work with him to help clear his name. Even if found innocent, his name had still been dragged through the mud. Half the battle was the case. The other was clearing his name and making sure he still had his scholarships.
I glanced in the rearview mirror again and looked at my own reflection. Sometimes I was asked how I could sleep, knowing the criminals I defended. I would smile and say, “With my eyes closed.”
A story is only as good as its villain is a quote by Luke Taylor I used often. If you had a bad villain, the story would suck. If there was no villain, then you had no story.
I supposed in a way that made me the narrator of villains’ stories. But so long as I was paid and knew the truth, I was good with the decisions I’d made.
However, there were some cases I would not touch, and for good reason. Murder, child abuse, rape… If I had a suspicion the accused was actually guilty, hell to the no. Go get yourself a court-appointed lawyer.
With a smirk, I continued my drive and turned down the road that led to my condo. I pulled in, and a silhouette inside the guard shack moved in my direction. He stepped out and nodded to me with a tilt of his hat.
“Good evening, Mr. Newstrom.”
“Good evening, Baxter. How’s your mom?”
Baxter was the resident guard who kept our grounds safe. He was somewhere in his mid-forties to fifties and took care of his mom.
“She’s good, Mr. Newstrom, a spitfire.” He chuckled and opened the gate with the push of a button. “Enjoy your night, sir. Oh, and a lovely young lady came calling. She was let inside. I had her on your list.”
“Ahh, yes, thank you, Baxter. Enjoy your night.”
I pulled through the entrance and turned right, and just outside my garage stood a long, lean, and tanned woman with blond hair to her midback. She wore a red fitted dress that hugged her thighs.
I rolled down my passenger window and leaned over. “Thanks for waiting for me, Ginger.” I pressed the garage door button, and it began to lift up.
“No problem, Chase. I’ll follow you inside.”
And just like that, my night began to look up. Ginger—she preferred to be called by her stage name—never gave me a hard time about being late. I opened my car door, and her heels struck the concrete as she approached.
“Long day at the office?” she asked.
“Long day at the courthouse, but enough about that.” I closed the car door behind me and pulled her into my arms. I slanted my lips across hers, and Ginger leaned her body against mine. “Inside. Now,” I ordered, and everything about today washed away.
She took my inner elbow with her hand, and we walked through my open garage. The faint lighting illuminated Ginger’s white-blond hair, almost in a glow.
I opened the door and let her inside first, then closed it behind me. Taking her hand, I pulled her back toward me and wrapped my arms around her body. I grabbed one of her legs and lifted it up around my waist and then followed with her other leg. She hugged my waist tight with her thighs, and I pressed the fob remote to close the garage door.
The events of today were already far from my mind, and I was ready to settle down for the evening inside Ginger. Later, maybe a glass of Scotch.
Chapter Three
Ainsley
Chase gave no fucks except about himself. If I were more like him, if I had stood up to him and said, “No, I can’t be there today,” he would have fired me. He didn’t take lightly to anyone second-guessing him or standing up to voice an opinion different from his.
Instead, I was always the “yes sir” girl of the office. I wanted to build a reputation for becoming a ball-busting lawyer, but I’d get nowhere if I continued saying yes to everything and being everywhere he expected regardless of any plans of mine. It made me feel like that girl who disowned her friends as soon as a guy took interest in her. That had never been me.
Chase came and went and expected me to do all this work for him. I had busted my ass at his firm, but I still felt like he didn’t take me seriously.
“Pay your dues, Ainsley,” he’d said on more than one occasion, “and one day, this could be you ordering someone else around.”
Well, maybe I didn’t want to order someone around like he did. Maybe I wanted someone to work with me, not for me or under me. It wasn’t nice how he treated people, and the fact that I was missing the pre-wedding events with my friends made me hate him that much more.
Not long after Chase left me here in the office, I actually did find where this new witness had been, and it was nowhere near the house party the night Lance was accused of rape. Social media had been a godsend in many aspects of my job.
He had been across the country with his family. After searching a few of the databases we had of flight information and car rentals, his name came up. He had been in a different state during the party. I found his social media pages full of pictures of Miranda and him. Were they lovers? It wasn’t our business, unless it helped get our client off.
We’d make damn sure they both paid for this lie. Who was this guy trying to cover for? Was he promised money? It wouldn’t surprise me. The accuser’s family was poor, and I could empathize, but going after someone who had money wasn’t the way to get ahead.
Miranda and her fellow witnesses could be found guilty of perjury, Lance’s parents could countersue, and Miranda could serve time in jail for slander and defamation of character. There was a world of shit they’d all go through if Lance’s family had any say in it. His family lawyered up, and Miranda’s team honestly didn’t stand a chance.
This evidence would have the new “witness’s” testimony thrown out before it was even heard. Did the prosecution do no homework? This was ridiculous. Chase would eat this boy alive if he did testify. He would then turn the tables on the family and rake them through the coals and make sure they burned.
But right now, tonight, it was about me being pissed the fuck off at Chase. He could thank me later for the detective work I did. It wasn’t like it was hard. It was easy. Almost too easy. The prosecution seriously was a joke in this case, and it was disappointing.
I looked at the clock. It was closing in on midnight. I groaned in disappointment at myself. I sat back in my chair, and my head lolled back and rested on the headrest. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh. The longer I sat there, the more the rage continued to rise. I gritted my teeth and opened my eyes. I fisted my hands and then howled in frustration.
“Who the hell does he think he is?” I said out loud. “With his Gucci shoes and Armani blazer?” I stood and pushed the chair back with my legs. “His amazing cologne that makes me feel dumb because I can’t think around him?”
I pushed away from the table and placed my fists on my hips. While he was off gallivanting around town, I was stuck here missing the wedding rehearsal. The bride would never forgive me if I didn’t show up tomorrow. The wedding was so important. I had to be there, no matter what. Chase had to understand that.
One of the walls of his office was lined with shelves of law books. Another wall held his credentials from Harvard Law, University of North Texas, and a few of the recognitions he’d received from the charity work he did.
Across the room, next to one of the framed plaques, I spied his liquor cabinet. I made a beeline for it and opened the panel. Inside was expensive Scotch, brandy, and who knew what else. They were all brown liquid, and I wasn’t picky. I wasn’t what you’d call an expensive drinker. If you gave me a beer, I was good.
However, I knew Scotch was pricy, and what
better way to get back at my douchebag of a boss than by drinking his most favorite spirit?
I grabbed a glass and pulled the top off the crystal bottle that held the brown contents. Both probably cost more than two years of my current intern salary. I poured myself a glass and then brought it to my lips. I sniffed the contents and cringed. Scotch was strong, yet so was brandy. I had tasted brandy once. I wasn’t a fan. Hopefully I liked the Scotch, because I planned to drink a lot of it tonight.
“Fucking asshole,” I said and sipped the contents. When I swallowed, I growled with the burning sensation as the contents slipped down my throat. Surprisingly, it warmed my belly in a delightful way. “Not so bad,” I said to myself and took another sip. Then another and another. Before I realized it, I had to refill my glass.
“I hate my boss. I hate him!” I looked at one of his pictures, where he was shaking hands with the governor of Texas. I pointed at it. “I hate you, Chase Newstrom!”
I took another drink and then held my arms straight up, as if I were cheering for myself. In a way, I was. “You are the world’s worst boss and biggest asshole I have ever come across!” I then giggled at my words. “Well, you personally have never made me come, but damn, have I had some erotic dreams about you.”
I laughed once more and then shook off the erotic notions of Chase. He had been a dick tonight, and I would not give in to the pleasure of anything erotic in his name. What if he had plans and I had insisted he stayed? Oh, that’s right, he did have plans. Well, boo-fucking-hoo.
“Get your knob blown and come back in here and help a girl out!” The Scotch was starting to work its magic, and I was feeling quite woozy. And woozy felt delightful. My body warmed, and my skin flushed from the liquor.
“You know what you need, Mr. Newstrom? You need a swift kick in your ass!” I grabbed the bottle of Scotch, crossed the room back to his desk, and then kicked his chair. It spun toward me, and I took a seat in it. The leather was cool to my body, and for a moment, I relished in it.