Page 8 of Entranced With the Hellhound

My thoughts of Blue have invaded my mind so much that I’ve taken to going through case law and revisiting some of my old convictions to keep my mind off of her.

Reopening my old cases has reminded me of why I became a lawyer in the first place. I saw firsthand how the justice system can work against you. My father was wrongfully arrested, accused of a crime he didn’t commit. However, after new evidence came to light and his conviction was overturned, we sued the fuck outta them.

My father died shortly after, but the money my family got from the lawsuit paid for everything that we needed. My mother didn’t have to struggle to raise me and my brother, and when it was time for me to provide for my young family and attend law school, I did it without any financial struggle.

So, I continue to practice law even though I don’t need the money. I have more money than I will ever be able to spend; I work because I love the law. Being able to get my clients off without even a slap on their tattooed wrist makes me feel like I’m balancing the scales, at least some.

Make no mistake, though; most of my clients are as guilty as a preacher in a strip club. But most of the time the charges are blown out of proportion. Society likes to punish us because they can’t live as freely as we do. Morality rules make people think they’re better than us, but they can go fuck themselves. I like to rub it in their faces that they can’t beat me.

Yeah, we do some illegal shit, and my clients are definitely guilty of one thing or another, but so what. The judges and law enforcement are the biggest criminals walking this earth. And if they can walk around free, then so can we.

There’s always somebody in my world that needs representation, and they know that I’m the best attorney Texas has ever seen. I’ve been a prosecutor, D.A., and now a defense attorney. Nobody can do what I’ve done in my career.

My assistant, Bea, who is a Hellhound Old Lady, knocks on the door. The sound brings me out of my thoughts. She has a frown on her face, which is unusual for my bubbly assistant.

“Bishop, there’s somebody here to see you. She doesn’t have an appointment, and she refuses to tell me what she wants. I didn’t let her inside. You can check the cameras to see if you know her.”

I frown because there aren’t many people who would come here without an appointment. You damn near have to know somebody that knows somebody to even locate my office in the first place.

As popular as I am, my services are expensive. My clientele are elite criminals, and privacy is the only way I conduct my shit. So I don’t know who the woman is, but she has some big balls to barge into my place unannounced.

“I’ll come out there, Bea. Make yourself scarce, and I will handle it,” I direct her.

Bea nods her head, walking in the opposite direction of the door where the woman is waiting outside. I don’t play about safety, mine or anybody who works for me. Bea will be in the back where it’s safe, just in case this woman is some kind of crazy person, seeking revenge or some shit.

I unlock my desk and grab my Glock. I walk to the front with my gun in hand. It may be a tad bit unprofessional, but I’m a Texas boy. It’s open carry round here.

“Can I help you?” I ask, pushing the intercom button on the camera.

The woman looks up into the camera and smiles wickedly. I scan her face once more, and there’s not an ounce of recognition in my brain. I have no clue who she is.

“Yes, I’m a friend, and I’d rather not stand out here all day in case anyone sees me,” she says, looking around.

I narrow my eyes, but I decide to let her in. If she tries anything stupid, they’ll never find her body. I push the button to release the lock, and the woman walks in.

She is slender with a slicked-back blond ponytail, and she’s wearing a tailored pantsuit. Either she’s a politician asking for votes, or she’s a fucking FED. Either way, I don’t want any part of her bullshit.

“They told me to be careful coming here unannounced like this. But damn, I didn’t think you would actually come out with a gun.”

“Now that you know they told you the truth, I suggest you talk before I need to use it,” I respond, aiming my gun directly at the perfect target… her forehead.

CHAPTER 5

INVISIBLE STRING

BISHOP

“So, you’re saying an ATF agent came to your office on some warning type shit?” Rock questions, anger covering his face.

“Yeah, that’s what the bitch said,” I respond.

“Why the fuck would they do that?” Big Black questioned.

“Cause they want something from us,” I answer.

“No, they want something from you.” Rock points an accusatory finger in my direction.

I sigh heavily. I know he’s right. I worked with those assholes when I was in the D.A. office as a means to an end. I did a lot of shit so I could have the inside track. I needed to move up and make shit shake, and I did.