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Chapter1
Sean
The obnoxious morning foot traffic around Philadelphia’s City Hall had used up the last of Sean’s patience. He wished that being woken up at the crack of dawn by Marcus’ phone call was unusual but owning one of the most elite private security businesses meant calls at all hours. His days in the Marines meant he rarely slept late but 4 am was early, even for him. Unfortunately, emergencies had no respect for sleep or a schedule that was already packed full.
Sean paused outside the glass doors of the Stout Center for Criminal Justice while he listened to Marcus summarize what the company’s investigators had found out for him in the last five hours. As he took in the information he questioned, not for the first time, the sanity of one of his closest friends.
“Let’s sum this up.” Sean pinched the bridge of his nose then adjusted his bluetooth earpiece. “Your old Airforce buddy calls and no questions asked, you agree to have me represent a friend of his at his arraignment and trial. Now I’m supposed to convince a judge that a landscaper from Texas who belongs to a Motorcycle Club, isn’t a flight risk on Drug Trafficking charges that involve the Soto Cartel?”
Marcus’ chuckle wasn’t comforting. “Bomber says the guy is innocent. Wrong place. Wrong time.”
The bonds formed when you served with someone were something that couldn’t be denied but sometimes, they also made you blind. “You’re willing to risk both my reputation and Echelon Protection’s good name on that fact?”
Five of them had created Echelon Protection eight years ago. It had slowly grown into something they could all be proud of. Now they handled everything from bodyguard details to rescue missions in foreign countries and had over three hundred employees worldwide. They never valued money over their consciences. Defending a probable drug mule did not fit in with their ethos.
“Bomber saved my life on more than one occasion and never hesitated to help anyone in our squadron. I’m not saying he’s squeaky clean, but I trust him, if he says this guy is innocent, he is.” Marcus sighed. “I owe him a lot more than this favor is worth but if anyone picks up even a hint that this guy is guilty, you can walk.”
Damn right he would walk. He was not going to help someone who killed people and destroyed families with drugs. “Fine. You know I don’t specialize in criminal law, so if we end up going to trial I’m going to hand it off to someone else. I hate courtrooms.” He muttered the last part under his breath. He had felt that way since his days in the JAG core. Sean preferred precision in all things and having to deal with the erratic, fickle nature of a civilian jury was something he avoided.
“I thought all baby lawyers dreamed of giving dramatic speeches in front of captive audiences?”
“Fuck you.”
“Yeah, guess your sparkling personality doesn’t do well with civilians. Hopefully, we can find evidence to clear him, so you don’t have to strain yourself.”
“All right. Once we find out where this guy was staying before his arrest we can pull the video feed showing him coming in and out of the place. I’m sure you’re already working on getting any footage the police might not have from the street where this bust took place. If I can show that he really was just walking up while a major drug deal was going on it will help. But with him living out of state, most likely his bail is going to be set pretty fucking high.”
“Whatever it is, I’ll cover it.”
He stepped back further away from the door almost bumping into someone. “You’re serious?”
“Yeah.”
Sean swallowed down what he wanted to say. It would do no good. Christ, guess they were going into the bail bondsman gig as well.
“All right, I’m going to see what I can get from…” Sean pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up the file to find the name. “Justin Lewis. Call me when you have something, preferably before one when we are scheduled to go before the judge.”
The basement level of the Courthouse was busier than he expected. He wasn’t at the courthouse often but thought there must be a lot of arraignments on the schedule. How could one judge get through so many cases in a single day?
Being 6’1” made it easier to get the layout of the waiting area. It was an interesting mix of people. It was easy to pick out the public defenders by their harried overworked look, but that was all Sean could determine since he didn’t know most of the lawyers moving around the area. One man he recognized was Wilson Fronefield. The man was a partner at one of the city’s most prestigious Law firms. Prestigious, if you ignored the fact that most of their clients were the worst of the worst. They would represent anyone if the paycheck was large enough.
Fronefield was talking to Stephen Nachman, the DA who was prosecuting the case he was here for. Hopefully, there would be time to talk to the DA later because he wasn’t going to wade into that mess. Who was Fronefield here for?
A beautiful woman with hair the color of the darkest chocolate approached the D.A. with slow hesitant steps. Dressed professionally, she could have been mistaken for another lawyer, but she didn’t have the confidence Sean was used to seeing in someone who talked regularly in front of a courtroom full of people. Her slender figure and pale ivory skin made her seem delicate. Even at this distance her vibrant blue eyes were stunning. And familiar. He frowned as he tried to place where he’d seen her before.
A protective urge filled him with the desire to cross the room and stop her from coming within touching distance of the slimy defense attorney who was still chatting to the D.A. He had moved towards them without even thinking. Then something changed in her face as she saw Wilson. He paused when she turned and practically fled the area. Why was she running?
“Mr. Arista, Client Room 18 is free.” The Guard’s voice snapped Sean out of ideas of chasing after her and back to the matter at hand. It was time to find out what had really happened last night.
Room 18 was so small it barely fit the tiny table and two chairs meant for conferences. Seated at the table was his client looking like he had not had an easy night. Justin, or Bank as his name patch read, wore faded jeans, a black Henley and the motorcycle club cut that proclaimed him to be a Brother of the Charon’s M.C. He didn’t look happy to see him.
“Sean Arista from Echelon Protection. I’m here to represent you for your arraignment. Do you prefer Bank or Justin?”
“Bank.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “Was told to wait for some guy named Tepes.”
Sean winced. He was going to get Marcus back for this. His closest friends continued to call him by the nickname he’d been tagged with in the Marines but this was supposed to be business not social. It usually caused nothing but confusion because few people knew that Vlad the Impaler’s last name had been Tepes. So they didn’t get that it wasn’t his real name. He’d earned that nickname while serving overseas. Unlike many of the men and women in the JAG, he had often volunteered for positions that took him into active combat. They’d teased him about being a vampire lawyer who liked to get bloody.
Trying not to show his annoyance Sean smiled, “That’s what they called me in the Marines.”
