Monday
After sixty-seven minutes of testosterone-filled bursts of dominance, Alec stopped trying to hide his boredom. He pushed back in his seat, letting a tedium-induced yawn tear free. It was first thing Monday morning and a pair of dick-weed attorneys and their entitled client sat across from him, demanding a softer plea deal. Not only that, oh no, the lawyers sitting across from him seemed to imply Alec should be privileged to accept their generous offer.
Right. Not him.
That smug, entitled twenty-two-year-old who sat across the table from him and relentlessly chomped on her gum had committed some serious crimes while on probation from a long list of other serious convictions. This was the little jail-bird’s third criminal offense, and Alec didn’t believe in the revolving door theory. He saw her life as nothing more than a spinning, out of control mess. She needed a wake-up call. Well, probably more like a good kick in the ass, but the law didn’t allow him to do such things.
Alec swiveled the seat to the side, laying his head back on the head rest, staring up at the large mounted wall clock. It read 9:12 in the morning.
The attorney opposite him kept talking.
Alec reached for his pencil on the table and stared at the lead. If he rammed this sharpened point into his eye, what would really happen? He’d lose his eye, sure, but would it also end this meeting?
His mind drifted to the biker. Alec had stopped by his dealership on his way into the office this morning. Luckily Keyes hadn’t been by yet to handle the paperwork, so on impulse, he’d left a note for him. He had wanted to call but figured it was too soon.
“Alec, they’re waiting on you,” Blair, his paralegal and assistant, said, sticking her head in the meeting room door.
“Blair, come in for a second, please.” Alec didn’t stand. He stayed stretched out in the seat, turning his head toward the defense attorneys. “It doesn’t matter how you spin it, facts are facts. She used a stolen credit card to purchase a Louis Vuitton suitcase of all things. When the card got declined, she pulled her wallet out, dropped over thirty other stolen credit cards to the ground with an undercover police officer standing right beside her. They’ve traced over one hundred thousand dollars in stolen merchandise from those cards. This is her third offense, and if that’s not bad enough, she propositioned the officer to avoid arrest. When that didn’t work, she started screaming rape. All caught on Neiman’s security video.” Alec tilted his head toward Blair who stood by the now closed door. “It’s not a grainy video. Very fine quality. Right, Blair?”
“Yes, sir. Even in color.” Her eyebrows shot up as she nodded in feigned amazement.
“That’s what shopping at Neiman-Marcus provides. Security video in color,” Alec added cheekily, rising from his chair, reaching for his portfolio where not one single note had been added. “You probably already know that. I’m certain you’ve spent lots of time there. A Dallas treasure and all.”
“I want him removed from the case,” one attorney declared in all his fury, his heavy hand came down on the table in a hard clap as he stood, bowing his body toward the center of the table. Those weren’t new words. They’d been repeated by this duo since he’d been assigned the case. Apparently, the delinquent’s family were high-brow, elite Dallasites.
“The plea offer stands. This is her third offense and nothing’s worked before. Take it or leave it,” Alec said, reaching for his suit jacket hanging on the back of the chair.
“Jail time served. Lower community service to forty hours and probation for twelve months.”
Alec laughed out loud and started for the door. “We’ll see you in court,” he said. Blair opened the conference room door on his approach.
“You won’t win.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” Alec didn’t look back as he passed through the doorway. “Blair, can you show them out?”
Alec casually strolled through the downstairs space of the DA’s office hearing the angry words that followed. He could almost feel the wind shifts as heads turned toward the outburst, but he didn’t care in the least. He tucked his suit jacket over one arm, then the portfolio followed as he reached for his cell, knowing the entire building had to be buzzing this morning after the federal raid. He could feel the tension, hear the quiet murmur of gossip, see the small groups of staffers huddled together. Damn, he wished he’d made more friends here. That would be some damn good gossip.
“They want you to come back. They’ll take the one-hundred hours of community service and three years’ probation, but they want time served,” Blair said. She came up from behind, passed him, then pivoted on her heels to face him. She kept pace with him in a backward stride that left him kind of impressed.
“She’s a habitual offender,” Alec said, taking her arm when he needed to turn toward the elevators.
Blair just stared at him. He liked that about her. She was on her game all the time. If he asked her opinion, she generally had a very well-thought-thorough narrative with a helpful suggestion. If she wasn’t asked, she didn’t insert herself in the discussion. He didn’t ask her thoughts this time. Alec didn’t like those Dumb and Dumber attorneys and honestly struggled with the defendant’s attitude. And even more frustrating was that these were the bullshit cases he was assigned all the time. Alec stayed silent, pushing the call button. When the doors opened, he stepped inside. She didn’t follow, lifting her hands, silently asking what he had decided. “Thirty days county lockup.”
She nodded and repeated that fancy pivot on the heel of her shoe. He hated he’d caved. If nothing else, holding firm would have gotten him back inside a courtroom, trying a case. With that girl’s crimes and past history, he could’ve gotten her years, and it would have been well deserved.
“Alec, we got the probable DUI case from yesterday. She’s assigning it to you,” Janice, a paralegal in the criminal division, and one of his friends in the office, said, surprising him from behind. He turned, moving to the back of the elevator when a crowd got out on the second floor.
“Send me over what she has. He hit someone, correct?” he asked, tucking a hand in his slacks pocket, trying to remember what he’d heard about the case.
“Yes, taking the victim off life support today,” she filled in. The door opened on the third floor, but no one got on, leaving only him and her on the ride up to the thirty-seventh floor.
“So, what’s the word today?” Alec asked, leaning against the rail on the back wall.
“Don’t know the official word. Twiford and her special team were meeting when I got here this morning. Lots of raised voices and scared-looking interns,” she said, leaning back on the bar with him.
“I bet. Any word on what tipped off the feds?” Alec asked.
“Just speculation. I think that’s part of the problem. Twiford can’t figure out what’s going on,” Janice said.
Alec grunted his acknowledgement. Donice Twiford, district attorney, had an ego the size of this building. She was always cunning, constantly positioning herself, never making any true alliances. Hell, Alec was certain she’d sell her own mother if need be, and up until Friday, she had been damn good at playing the game.
“My most reliable source says two things.” Janice lowered her voice to a whisper. “One, Twiford thinks this was a personal attack against her. Someone in the feds’ office is trying to show her up, remind her who’s really in charge. Apparently, the feds just made a big show of tearing up the biker gang’s property, but didn’t really take anything important. They say, someone on the federal side even tipped off the media about what was going down. They wanted to show Twiford she isn’t in charge of this show. Her approval rating is down this morning. She’s gotta hate that.” Janice raised her eyebrows at him, but Alec only nodded his agreement.
“What’s the second thing?” Alec asked, encouraging her to finish before the elevator doors opened.
“Twiford’s Havoc informant hasn’t been on the up and up. She’s been led down a rabbit hole.”
“What about all the charges they’ve cooked up for the ones arrested Friday night?”
“Nothing’s substantiated.”
“So, the whole thing’s political? A one-up move?” Alec asked and tucked his portfolio against his chest, crossing his arms. Janice lifted both hands. Her guess was as good as anyone’s, and a lot more probable based on the crazy way this office ran. Hell, not only this office—he could totally see his father spending millions of taxpayer dollars ordering a federal raid just to show his authority.
“Lunch?” Janice asked when the elevator doors opened to his floor.
“Maybe. I’ve got a day,” Alec said. “Tomorrow would probably be better.”
Janice stuck her hand out, preventing the door from closing. “I heard about the potential judgeship. So didn’t see that coming.”
That stopped Alec in his tracks. He hadn’t told anyone the news. “How did you hear?”
“I heard from my boyfriend. His uncle is Tommy Black. I was shocked, but it’s going around the office this morning.” Janice watched him closely as the alarm on the elevator started to buzz. “I didn’t know you didn’t know. I should have warned you.” Janice pointed a finger in toward his set of offices which was the same direction as DA Twiford’s office. “She’s not gonna be happy. She doesn’t like any attention off her, even when it’s bad attention.”
Boy, had Janice nailed that. Alec got a little pit in his stomach staring at Janice who stepped back and let the doors close in his face. He stood there, the elevator buzzer still ringing in his ears, wondering what the hell Twiford would do to him now. The elevator doors next to him opened, and Blair stepped off, coming to an abrupt stop in front of him.
“Good. You’re here. Twiford’s in your office. I was supposed to come find you when I got sidetracked,” Blair said, giving a sympathetic smile and a pat on his arm. He stood there, not wanting to move even when Blair walked away.
“I’ve got a meeting,” he said lamely, attempting to mask the worry from his expression. In the five seconds he’d had to contemplate the possibilities of why Twiford was in his office, he couldn’t think of any good reasons.
“She had me reschedule before I came and got you,” Blair said, again doing that pivot move in order to walk backward.
“What’s it about?” he asked, still not budging one single step. A complete stall tactic, more than anything, but he didn’t want to go in there.
“I’d guess the biker gang, but I don’t know.” She turned back around, walking in quick strides to her desk.
Terms like dead man walking came to mind. The fifty or so steps to his office felt more like the green mile with the anxiety churning through him. When he entered, Donice Twiford had commandeered his office chair, her long, claw-like fingernails clicking on his keyboard. She didn’t acknowledge Alec, but he hadn’t expected her to.
The problem they had between them was that Alec never bowed to her. He flat out didn’t like her, and he suspected the feeling was mutual. He considered her a master manipulator of everything and everyone, and her agenda wasn’t for the greater good, but for personal glory. All qualities he detested in a person. She had no boundaries for personal space. He’d learned within her first few days in office to log out of the internal company program. She regularly appropriated the staffs’ computers and space, especially when she had discipline on her mind. He took it as a reminder of who really ran this show.
“Take a seat,” she said, pointing to one of the two chairs in front of his desk.
Alec hung his suit jacket on the hanger by the door as slowly and causally as possible before taking that seat, laying his portfolio opened on his lap, pencil in hand.
“You haven’t joined any of the Havoc task force meetings. Why?” she asked, not looking up or stopping her fingers from their insistent clicking. Her fingernails were so long he couldn’t understand how she hit the keys so quickly with just those pointed tips.
Alec waited until her typing slowed and her right pinky hit the enter button before he answered. “It’s not my area of expertise,” he stated with as much disinterest in his voice as he could muster.
“Hmm.” She lounged back in his chair, giving a small insincere grin. Lordy, he didn’t like the woman. She was condescending as hell. Her whole demeanor spoke volumes on how much she thought of his answer.
“I heard you declared your intentions this weekend,” she stated, lifting a perfect arched eyebrow.
“I did,” he confirmed with a nod.
“And you didn’t tell us first? Not human resources, not me…” He wondered how long her brow could hold that severe arch of condemnation.
“It happened quickly, and I’m in the preliminary stages,” he answered. It hadn’t even occurred to him to seek her approval.
“Hmm.” The arch dropped and the cold smile was back as she leaned forward, lacing her fingers together on his desk. “Well, effective immediately, I’m changing your position. From this point forward, you’ll be working the CPS—”
“What? I’m not qualified for CPS.” Alec vigorously shook his head, slamming the portfolio closed as he came to his feet. He certainly didn’t have the temperament for such a placement. He’d never be able to separate himself from the cases in Child Protective Services. Absolutely not.
“I don’t believe that for a second.” She opened a file he hadn’t noticed on his desk and she thumbed through the contents. From the angle he stood, he could see the file held information on him. “I see a specialty in civil rights. That’s sweet if not a bit idealistic. Certainly looks good in front of a Senate Judiciary Committee. You’ve worked pro bono on the Death Penalty Project and the Equality Act. You interned with the Commitment for Civil Rights and Judge Sawyer.” She looked up, cocking her head, that horrid little smile spreading. “I think it’s a perfect fit.”
She flipped the file closed and stood, with an I-fucking-dare-you challenge clear on her face. More than anything, he wanted to tender his resignation, show this hateful woman exactly how he felt about this move, but that was also exactly what she wanted. He steeled his spine and narrowed his eyes. He wouldn’t quit now, if only to spite her.
“We’ll begin transitioning you to your new position effective immediately. I believe I may have said that already. Forgive me. It’s been an interesting few days,” she said, picking up her folders and walking toward his office door. “Also, I’ll take the Goldman case. Send me what you have.”
“I just agreed to a plea,” he said tersely, holding his ground.
“We’ll see. Movers will be here by the end of day. You’ll be moving downstairs.”
Alec stared after her as she shut his office door in his face. Dammit! He hadn’t anticipated this. Of course, she’d be concerned over any aspirations her staff may have, never want anyone to succeed above her own position. And having him acknowledge, in however small a way, that he was interested in a federal judge appointment, had sent her ego directly into self-protection mode. And scorched-earth was her weapon of choice. She was just that kind of person.
Child Protective Services.
Was she serious? What the… Dammit! Alec gripped the bridge of his nose, lowering his head, trying to gain perspective when all he wanted to do was put his fist through the damn door.
It took a couple of seconds, but Alec spotted another file folder sitting on his desk. He went straight there. In Twiford’s need to put Alec in his place, she must have forgotten the folder when she picked up the stack she’d had with her. He opened the flap and saw a series of surveillance photos of the biker club. He couldn’t believe his luck and her ignorance. What a seriously dumb move to leave something so valuable behind with a man she’d just dressed down.
He didn’t hold back. Alec thumbed through several eight by ten shots, finding Keyes front and center in many of them. Alec could see why Keyes had been targeted and treated as a threat. He was a big guy, bigger than any of the other club members. Seeing Keyes like this, he looked intimidating as hell. Certainly not the sexy man he’d wanted to get to know. Alec flipped through the photos, trying to reconcile the kind, generous, helpful man with the badass biker dude pictured before him. Alec wouldn’t have felt comfortable enough to approach Keyes had he met him under conditions that produced that intimidating scowl and the stance that screamed danger.
Doing something he’d never normally do, he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of Keyes from the photo below, then turned that eight by ten and took another. They’d be handy for his spank bank later. Moreover, he hoped Twiford might forget where she’d left the file. Curiosity more than anything made Alec want to know what drove her single-minded focus to bring this club to its knees. She’d probably claim he tampered with evidence and fire him for daring to peek in her file. And truth be told, this was not a good ethical decision for the job he held.
That concern lasted for about five seconds. Alec shrugged, closed the file, and decided to let fate handle any repercussions.