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His dark hair was swept back from his forehead, leaving only a strand or two to draw my attention to his similarly dark eyes. There was something about the way they sat on his face, large and framed by the thickest lashes I'd ever seen on a man, that made him seem like he knew all too much, yet kept it all secret. I loved secrets.
He was built angular yet relatively slim, but the veins in his forearms indicated that this man was capable of delivering a devastating hit. And his hands were big. Did I mention his hands were big?
“I know it’s a real warrant, that’s half the problem!” the man insisted, those intense eyes narrowing. “The ship had just docked so there was no way they had enough time to get a warrant, let alone the evidence!”
“They must have been tipped off somehow, sir,” Barker responded, in that voice that said he was being polite but also very much trying to get the man to leave. “Regardless of the reasoning for the warrant, one was issued. This wasn’t an unlawful search; there’s nothing our office can do for you.”
“When did I say the problem was the search?” the man hissed. “If this was a real search then why didn’t they bring any drug dogs?”
I paused. Now that… that was interesting.
“Police protocol isn’t something we have any experience with—” Barker started.
“They weren’t looking for anything; they knew exactly where to go. Like the drugs had been planted there.”
“Through international shipping?” Barker said. “That would be impossible to prove.”
Now, I was intrigued. I stepped closer, my mind catching onto elements of what I’d heard and picking them apart. Sure, this guy was hot, but that fell to the wayside in the wake of a puzzle. Especially when Barker was lying.
“Listen, sir, I am very sorry, but we won’t be able to take your case. It’s just not something we can help with. I can suggest you try your luck with Charlotte Hall, she has more experience with litigating police overreach.”
Or they could just check when the warrant was written against shipping records and go from there? Check police protocol about canine units in known or suspected drugs busts?
It wasn’t like they had to prove who did it, just cast reasonable doubt that the culprit was the client.
The man snarled, wound tight. He marched out of the conference room into the reception area.
Why wouldn’t the partners take the case?
There were elements I didn’t know, sure, but they were standing so resolute it was like they’d decided not to take it before the man ever opened his mouth. And it wasn’t an impossible case—it was a good one, even.
All I'd need to find was one piece of proof that it could possibly be a setup, and the client would walk free. So what was really going on here?
The man glared at Barker and Archer for a moment before cursing hotly and storming out like he had no more time to waste when there were other lawyers in the city. Were any of them as good as Barker, Carter, and Dark? Well, not most of them, no, but there were still plenty of good options that were in the same bracket.
The man slammed the door so hard the clock on the wall fell to the floor with a vindictive clatter.
The few people gathered in the reception area started to mill away, either talking amongst themselves or returning to their tasks, but I wasn’t ready to do that just yet. Something about this just wasn’t quite adding up—there was another element here, and I was determined to know what it was. All I had to do to find out was stick around a few minutes.
People talked a lot about how old women gossip, but old men were just as bad.
With Barker and Carter both shaking their heads behind the front desk, I was sure they were going to talk about it if I stayed around them long enough.
And hey, I just so happened to need a snack.
Sure enough, by the time I was halfway through my apple, the old shits were gabbing like I wasn’t even there. “Damn, coulda been a good case,” Archer sighed. Barker groaned.
“Yeah, the whole no-drug-dogs thing really raises a lot of doubt. It would have been a pretty solid win.”
“Yeah, but never work with a Marino.”
“What was all that noise?” Dark asked, emerging from his own office.
“Marino,” his partners answered simultaneously. I’d heard that name before, everyone had in Chicago.
“I had heard rumors that since Bernie Silverstein died, the Marinos were looking for a new firm. Bernie had been representing the family for decades, but Silverstein jr. has decided to do things differently and they had a break up,” added Carter.
“Yeesh. You do one case for them and they’ve got you in their pocket for life. No win’s worth that.” There were assenting hums all around.
