Don’t talk. Never give up your brothers if you get caught. If you go down, you go down… alone. That’s just one of the things drilled into us as Soulless Kings. There are other rules, of course, but sitting in a jail cell, that is the only one running through my head. What’s worse, I’m sitting here for a crime I didn’t commit.
Normally, I wouldn’t worry because the club has a damn good attorney on retainer but he’s not the one who walks through the door for my first attorney-client meeting. No, it’s a public defender who looks fresh out of college with a degree in sexy nerd. All she’s missing is a pocket protector and suspenders. I might as well plead guilty on the first-degree murder charge and resign myself to life in prison.
And then she opens that pretty little mouth of hers and hope flares.
My parents were so proud of me when I graduated from Harvard Law. When I told them I wanted to be a public defender instead of some high-powered prosecutor, that pride disappeared, because that wasn’t their plan for me. To them, being a public defender wasn’t going to get my family out of the Bronx. It wasn’t going to elevate their lives the way they thought they deserved after all their sacrifices. But I didn’t care.
My caseload has been challenging, but rewarding. I’ve helped a lot of innocent people and sure, I’ve probably helped a few not-so-innocent assholes walk. But that’s the job and I love it… until now. Sitting across from the scary biker who rightfully deserves to go down for murder, I’m scared for the first time in two years.
And then he opens his mouth, and I question everything I thought I knew before walking into this meeting.
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