Total pages in book: 170
Estimated words: 160791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 160791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 804(@200wpm)___ 643(@250wpm)___ 536(@300wpm)
Derek glances up, his nervous form becoming more frantic.
“A client of yours, I believe. On remand. Found guilty at trial, has appealed, fired his attorney, and hired you. Of all the people in the world, Derek. He hires you.” I pour the tea, a cup for each of us. “Milk?” I ask the tray, getting a grunt from James, a “please” from Brad, and nothing from Derek. “Do. You. Have. Milk?” I look at him, and he nods jerkily. So I add milk. “No sugar for me.” I smile at him. “Obviously.” I proceed to spoon sugar into Derek’s cup, one after the other, until the bowl is empty, and Derek’s tea looks like toffee. “Drink up.” I slide it toward him and hand out the delicate cups and saucers to James and Brad, taking my own and sipping. I hum, holding the cup up and inspecting it. “You know, no one makes tea like my mum.”
“No one,” Brad agrees, joining me and testing. “She’s not passed on that talent to you, Danny.” He grimaces, placing his cup down.
I take another sip, just to test it again. “What do you think?” I ask James, who’s contemplating me with a poorly concealed smirk.
“It’s average.”
“It’s average,” I mimic, returning my attention to Derek. “I’m wounded. How about you, Derek? Do you like my tea?”
With shaky hands, he lifts the small cup of goo to his lips and practically chews his way through half of it, his skin turning a fetching shade of green, fighting to suppress his heaves. “Very good,” he coughs.
My nose wrinkles. “Don’t lie to me, Derek. I hate liars.” I slip the cup and saucer onto the desk, move the guns closer to him so the ends are touching his chest, and retake my seat at the end of the table. “Bear that in mind when I ask my next question.” I push the tips of my fingers together, resting my elbows on the arms of the chair. “Who do you answer to?”
He wipes at his nose again, exhaling, any fight he had in him leaving his body. “The Bear.”
I only just control my surprise. “Directly? No middle man?”
“No middle man.”
“How does he reach out?”
“Email.”
I note James goes straight to his phone, texting Otto. “On his way,” he confirms, resting his mobile on the table.
“What has he got against you, Derek? What’s he blackmailing you with?”
“What do you think?” he asks, exasperated. “He knows we didn’t obtain our son legitimately.”
“You realize this is one mighty big fucking coincidence, don’t you?” I can’t assume The Bear doesn’t know who Daniel is to me. And I won’t. “Have you mentioned Rose?”
“God, no. But you understand why I have to stop Daniel seeing her. And you! For fuck’s sake, he’ll think I’m in your pocket.”
“You are, Derek. From now on, you most certainly are.”
His head falls into his hands. “Oh God. I knew taking on the Dorn case was a mistake.”
I frown. “What’s the Dorn case?”
“First-degree murder.” He waves a hand in the air. “Hedge fund kid with a psychotic personality disorder. The evidence was circumstantial, but you’d have to be a fucking dumbass to believe he didn’t do it. Apparently, lucky for me, the jury was full of dumbasses. Dorn walked free, I made a name for myself, as well as a few bucks, and now I’m first port of call for any fucking murderer in Miami who needs a lawyer.”
Brad peeks up at me, as well as James, both clearly thinking what I’m thinking. Could it really be a coincidence? Could it really be that simple? Because if The Bear knew Daniel was my wife’s son, surely he would have utilized that tool before now.
Time will tell. Until then . . .
“This is what’s going to happen,” I say, just as Otto walks in. He takes in the carnage behind Derek, the state of Derek’s face, and then grimaces at his half-drunk cup of tea. “You’re going to give Otto here all the email communications you have from The Bear.”
“He’ll kill me. Jesus, he already impaled Daniel’s hamster on our porch railing.”
I recoil, swinging my eyes to James. “And there’s us thinking he’s fond of animals.”
“I haven’t encountered one called The Hamster yet.” He shrugs. “Maybe he has an aversion.”
“Rodents.” Brad shudders. “I hate rodents.”
I smirk, edging forward in my chair and laying my forearms on the table. “Derek, you have to trust me on this,” I say, as James and Brad both reach for their guns, caressing them like they could be working a woman’s body. “I am not the lesser of two evils in your life right now.” I push back in my chair and kick my feet up on the table. “I know you hear me. So you will continue to represent Roake. You will forward any information you have to me, no matter how small or insignificant.”