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I might represent well-known criminals, but I’ve never claimed to be a straight-laced lawyer. Everyone deserves fair representation, even the Snakes.
I’m on my route back to the office when ringing shrills through the car speakers. I take a deep breath, sighing and waiting a few seconds before I answer. I never get any peace, but I guess that comes with the job.
The name on the caller ID means this probably isn’t going to be a good conversation. Of course the Snakes have done something. It seems to be an everyday occurrence lately. Sometimes multiple incidents a day.
“What did you guys fuck up now?”
“Now, that’s no way to greet your favorite client, Taylor.” Viper’s deep voice echoes through my car.
“Get on with it, Viper. I don’t have all day.” I’m gruff and forward with everyone—that’s how I was raised—but this is much nicer than I usually am. I actually like Viper. He may be a Snake, but he’s not that bad. A straight shooter who gets to the point, and still seems to have some morals. I’d rather deal with him then Fang—that guy’s a manipulative, disgusting prick.
“It’s Bear…”
My eyes roll instinctively at the mention of that name. Bear is one of the biggest dumbasses I’ve had the unfortunate experience of meeting. He’s always getting into fucking trouble and I’m the one busting my balls to bail him out. They should honestly cut their losses with him; they’d be better off.
“Of course it is. What is it now? Another battery charge? Another B and E?”
“Possession with intent to distribute, plus assault on a police officer.”
Fucking moron. That’s worse than I was thinking. I can handle the possession charge, but assaulting an officer can be seen as the ultimate sin to East Siders. No one in the West Side really gives a shit if an officer is assaulted—they’re the enemy. But in the East Side? The rich and elite line the pockets of law enforcement. Officers in Craibridge are under their thumb, so if an officer goes down, that’s one less lackey to overlook all their crimes. If this was a different charge, I’d have a better chance at smooth-talking his stupid ass out of jail.
“Shit. Do you know how much he had on him? How bad are the injuries to the cop?”
“I don’t know much, man. I just got the call from Fang. He told me to call you.”
Of course that piece of shit didn’t want to deal with me himself. He hates that I don’t cower around him, that I don’t take his shit when he tries to boss me around and manipulate me. The only reason he hasn’t tried to get rid of me is because he knows I’m damn good at my job. If he wants his guys to have a good lawyer, he needs to keep his mouth shut around me.
“I’ll call and get the specifics when I get back to the office. Bear’s probably fucked though.”
“Can’t ever control that fucker. If you can’t get him out, I wouldn’t worry about it. We have a system with our sales for a reason and he didn’t follow the rules. That’s on him, not you.”
See, Viper’s not a bad guy.
“I’ll do what I can.”
“Always do. Fuck, Roulette and Pit are fighting again. Gotta run.” The line goes dead.
It’s always something with the Snakes. A fight, murder, drug charge. I never get bored, that’s for sure. If Viper were in charge, I have a feeling things for the gang would run a lot smoother, but that bastard Fang runs the show and he can’t keep his fucking men in check.
Sometimes I hang around the Snakes’ warehouse to keep an eye on how things are really going. My philosophy is, the better I know those crazy fuckers on a personal level, the better I can keep them out of trouble, or at least understand the kind of shit I’m getting myself into. That’s something my father never did; it was all business for him. He’d only go to the warehouse for meetings and leave the second it was over. He didn’t care about the Snakes, just about their money—like usual.
I finally turn into the office parking lot, so distracted that I barely remember the drive. My name is plastered on the huge black and white sign on the front of the high-rise building, which has more windows than anything else. My last name is there, but it’s not mine, not yet.
My father thought it was best to make me sweat it out, earn my way up, and not just have partner handed to me because I was his son. I’ve been an associate at his firm since I passed the Bar over six fucking years ago. I think I’ve earned it. I’ve done enough to prove my worth, but the bastard still strung me along. His own fucking son.
Walking through the door, I’m instantly bombarded by a loud voice. “Nix! About damn time you got back. We finally have it!”
I groan, following Kate’s voice into her office. Not one minute of damn peace. “Have what, Kate?”
“Your dad’s will.” She stands, moving out from behind her desk.
All thoughts of the Snakes slip away, now focusing on what Kate’s saying. I turn to look at the only person in this office I can trust. My stomach drops at the concerned look on her face. Something’s wrong.
“Well, badass lawyer, tell it to me straight. Your face says it all.”
She wrings her hands uncomfortably. “Umm…”
“Come on, Kate. We’ve worked together for six years and you’ve been my sidekick longer than that, ever since you helped keep my ass on track in law school. I’ve never seen you clam up once, so get on with it.”
