Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
When Dory came toward him, Keyes kept going, extending a hand in her direction. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Goddamn, pussy!” The beer his dad held went flying, spinning through the air toward him, liquid shooting out across the room. Keyes ducked, but he hadn’t needed to. Dory took the hit straight to her head, blocking his dad’s intended target.
“Ow! That hurt.”
Keyes never looked back. He was out the door and back on his bike within minutes of arriving. The clubhouse was fifteen minutes away. Keyes opted for a helmet this trip. He was too tired to guarantee a fast response. He let out another long yawn. Did they call it desensitized that he didn’t give a single shit about what was happening inside his own house? Who knew. Who cared.
Monday
After sixty-seven minutes of testosterone-filled bursts of dominance, Alec stopped trying to hide his boredom. He pushed back in his seat, letting a tedium-induced yawn tear free. It was first thing Monday morning and a pair of dick-weed attorneys and their entitled client sat across from him, demanding a softer plea deal. Not only that, oh no, the lawyers sitting across from him seemed to imply Alec should be privileged to accept their generous offer.
Right. Not him.
That smug, entitled twenty-two-year-old who sat across the table from him and relentlessly chomped on her gum had committed some serious crimes while on probation from a long list of other serious convictions. This was the little jail-bird’s third criminal offense, and Alec didn’t believe in the revolving door theory. He saw her life as nothing more than a spinning, out of control mess. She needed a wake-up call. Well, probably more like a good kick in the ass, but the law didn’t allow him to do such things.
Alec swiveled the seat to the side, laying his head back on the head rest, staring up at the large mounted wall clock. It read 9:12 in the morning.
The attorney opposite him kept talking.
Alec reached for his pencil on the table and stared at the lead. If he rammed this sharpened point into his eye, what would really happen? He’d lose his eye, sure, but would it also end this meeting?
His mind drifted to the biker. Alec had stopped by his dealership on his way into the office this morning. Luckily Keyes hadn’t been by yet to handle the paperwork, so on impulse, he’d left a note for him. He had wanted to call but figured it was too soon.
“Alec, they’re waiting on you,” Blair, his paralegal and assistant, said, sticking her head in the meeting room door.
“Blair, come in for a second, please.” Alec didn’t stand. He stayed stretched out in the seat, turning his head toward the defense attorneys. “It doesn’t matter how you spin it, facts are facts. She used a stolen credit card to purchase a Louis Vuitton suitcase of all things. When the card got declined, she pulled her wallet out, dropped over thirty other stolen credit cards to the ground with an undercover police officer standing right beside her. They’ve traced over one hundred thousand dollars in stolen merchandise from those cards. This is her third offense, and if that’s not bad enough, she propositioned the officer to avoid arrest. When that didn’t work, she started screaming rape. All caught on Neiman’s security video.” Alec tilted his head toward Blair who stood by the now closed door. “It’s not a grainy video. Very fine quality. Right, Blair?”
“Yes, sir. Even in color.” Her eyebrows shot up as she nodded in feigned amazement.
“That’s what shopping at Neiman-Marcus provides. Security video in color,” Alec added cheekily, rising from his chair, reaching for his portfolio where not one single note had been added. “You probably already know that. I’m certain you’ve spent lots of time there. A Dallas treasure and all.”
“I want him removed from the case,” one attorney declared in all his fury, his heavy hand came down on the table in a hard clap as he stood, bowing his body toward the center of the table. Those weren’t new words. They’d been repeated by this duo since he’d been assigned the case. Apparently, the delinquent’s family were high-brow, elite Dallasites.
“The plea offer stands. This is her third offense and nothing’s worked before. Take it or leave it,” Alec said, reaching for his suit jacket hanging on the back of the chair.
“Jail time served. Lower community service to forty hours and probation for twelve months.”
Alec laughed out loud and started for the door. “We’ll see you in court,” he said. Blair opened the conference room door on his approach.
“You won’t win.”
“Then it shouldn’t be a problem.” Alec didn’t look back as he passed through the doorway. “Blair, can you show them out?”
Alec casually strolled through the downstairs space of the DA’s office hearing the angry words that followed. He could almost feel the wind shifts as heads turned toward the outburst, but he didn’t care in the least. He tucked his suit jacket over one arm, then the portfolio followed as he reached for his cell, knowing the entire building had to be buzzing this morning after the federal raid. He could feel the tension, hear the quiet murmur of gossip, see the small groups of staffers huddled together. Damn, he wished he’d made more friends here. That would be some damn good gossip.