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Roman looked to Bang Bang, seeing the concern and doubt appear clear as day on the wrinkles in his forehead and the heaviness in his gaze. He wanted to assure him that his fears were unfounded, but he couldn’t pull up the words. He couldn’t lie to his friend like that.
“We’re getting out,” Roman said, deciding to stick to the blind optimism that had gotten him far in the past. “And Wyatt and Doc are going to be right there when we do.”
Bang Bang lay down on the bed, eyes fixed on the cracks in the ceiling. A calendar hung next to his head, the page turned to a date that was three months back. “I hope so, man. I hope so.”
As if by some celestial cue sent to prove Roman correct, the cell door unlocked and slid open on loud gears. Aimee stood there with a hand on her hip, hawk eyes pinned to Roman. “Come on, you’ve got a meeting with your lawyer.”
Roman gave Bang Bang a quick but subtle look, his lips curling into the smallest of smiles. Bang Bang reciprocated, understanding that this could be another development that led to their freedom. They already knew the lawyer was working with the Rainbow’s Seven, and he hadn’t scheduled another meeting until now, which meant something was about to happen.
Roman just had to find out what.
He was led out of the cell and down the stairs by Aimee, her hand on his back the entire time. A couple of people cheered and hollered at him, shouting about the fight and his “James Bond” skills. Apparently, that quick display had made an impression on the rest of the inmates, word having spread fast.
Good. It would keep from more of them fucking with him. At least until a cocky motherfucker decided they wanted a challenge, but Roman hoped he would be miles away from the prison at that point. Hopefully countries away, sipping mojitos on a beach somewhere with Wyatt at his side.
Roman was brought into another nondescript interview room, with bare white-brick walls and a two-way mirror running down the length of one side. At least the table appeared newer in this room, and since he wasn’t being held in solitary, he didn’t have to be handcuffed to the table this time. It was a pleasant change.
Roman sat at the table, fisting his hands and leaning forward, smiling at the suited-up lawyer across from him. He sported a fresh haircut and a shave, his skin still slightly raw from the blade. He matched Roman’s grin, the glint in his grayish-blue eyes telling Roman all he needed to know.
“Holding up well, Roman?”
“As well as I can be, being locked up for something I didn’t do.”
“I know. Very unfortunate circumstances but not completely hopeless. That’s why I’m here, because I’m going to fight for you and your friend. I’ll be meeting with him after this, but first, I wanted to chat with you about some things that have popped up.”
“Chat away,” Roman said, leaning back and putting an arm over the chair.
“First, I want to get a list of all the places you and your friends were when you went to London. It was supposed to be the night that the bombs were planted. If I can place you somewhere else, then it would be game over.”
Roman didn’t see a clear path out following the legal route. Footage of them in London wouldn’t help, considering they were in disguise and breaking into Amelie’s bakery. Maybe there was proof of them getting on the train, but still, it would be shaky at best. And he wasn’t sure how far Leonidas and his Pride reached. They could have their hands in the judicial system, making it a surefire bet that Roman and Bang Bang would stay locked up forever, the rest of the Rainbow’s Seven likely hunted as if they were world-class criminals.
“I can try and come up with a list of where we stopped. I’ll get that to you today.”
“Good, thanks. That’s a decent place to start, but that’s all it is: a start. Next, I want to go over the evidence the police and federal agents already collected at the museum. I don’t have it all, but they do have some prints and DNA samples. It could be nothing; it could be everything. I won’t know until we get your samples in to test and prove that they don’t match.”
Roman nodded, lips pursed. That seemed a little more helpful, and paired with proof that they were in London—maybe it could work, taking it to court. Wouldn’t be as flashy as getting broken out and would likely take much, much longer, but if it proved to be a better chance…
“What do you think?” Roman asked, point-blank. “Can you get us out?”
Garret took on the look of a doctor about to deliver bad news. “I can’t promise any of my clients an outcome, one way or another. It will be an uphill battle. The California District Attorney has a ninety-seven percent conviction rate, and with the federal charges involved, well, the burden of proof is high. Higher than most.”
