Eli (Sinful Shadows Mafia Book 2) Page 8

  She paused. “Holy shit, how many times.”

  “Seven, Janie. Seven. Separate. Times.”

  “Holy sh--!”

  I slapped my hand over her mouth as my head fell back in laughter. Oh, I couldn't believe it myself. Seven different orgasms, leaving my body a shaking, dripping wet mess. I never thought I’d enjoy waking up to crispy sheets. But, everything about this was different. From the way it felt to the way it happened to the way it made me feel deep down inside.

  “Please tell me you’ve heard from him,” Janie said as she pulled my hand away from her mouth.

  “Well, he did leave me a note,” I said.

  “Uh oh.”

  “No, no, no. Nothing like that. He apparently got up and cooked breakfast for us.”

  “Wait, wait, wait, he cooks?”

  I nodded. “Yep. It was a mean bacon-and-cheese omelet, too. There was a note on the fridge about how he had to get to work. But, he said we’d talk soon about our second date. Apparently, there’s this cute little Italian place he wants to take me to.”

  “And have you heard from him since?”

  I shrugged. “It’s only been a couple of days. I’ll give him another day before I try calling him up.”

  “It’s not good if you have to chase him down. He should be chasing you.”

  “And he did, Janie. He gave me his card. Told me I better call. He planned the date. Picked me up. Drove me around. Paid for everything. This is the real deal. Not like the other idiots I’ve dated in the past.”

  “He better be. Because if he breaks your heart, I’m breaking his dick,” she said.

  I snickered as I shook my head, reaching for my coffee. And as Janie grew silent, I saw her slip her phone out of her pocket. She rifled through it for a bit and I didn’t think anything of it. Until she asked a curious question with a tone I didn't like.

  “You said Eli James?” she asked.

  I paused. “Yeah?”

  “Criminal Defense Attorney?”

  “Uh huh?”

  “Huh.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Just… I know who you’re talking about,” she said.

  I paused. “You know Eli?”

  “Don’t worry. I didn’t hit on him or something like that.”

  “That thought didn’t even cross my mind. How do you know him?”

  “You remember that emergency call we had back about a year ago? Two twin girls? An accident down the stairs?”

  My blood boiled. “Yep. I remember that father I wanted to strangle.”

  “He oversaw their case. Came to and from the hospital to get my statement a few times. Apparently, he’s a huge name in the D.A.’s office. All the officers around this area know who he is.”

  “Why is that a bad thing?”

  She shrugged. “Rumor has it, he’s married to his work.”

  “Uh huh. And where would these rumors be coming from?”

  “His name’s Officer Beloit, and he’s quite a master on the dancefloor,” she said, grinning.

  “Uh huh. And how did you and Officer Beloit come to talk about Eli in the first place?”

  “Does that matter?”

  “To me, it does.”

  She sighed. “He was ranting and raving about work. How some attorney was up his ass about a lot of asinine questions. Wording of phrases in his testimony and documents and stuff. Officer Beloit was the original responder to the house that night.”

  “With the twin girls.”

  “Yep. I mean, that’s just one man’s opinion of another man. And in a heated moment. But, if it’s true? I’d feel guilty not telling you about it only for you to figure it out firsthand, you know? And with that note you said he left...”

  Shit.

  “I mean, no man is perfect, right?” I asked.

  Janie shrugged. “You’re right. Just depends on what you’re willing to put up with. You ready for a man who constantly has to leave the morning after for work?”

  “I don't know. It was just one night.”

  “Something to think about.”

  I sighed. “Thanks.”

  “I just want you protected. Men are crazy out here sometimes. And they don’t have a track record of keeping the emotions of the women they’re fucking around with a priority.”

  “I know, I know. Just… let me enjoy it for a little while, yeah?”

  “Sorry, girl.”

  I mean, I understood Eli’s need to do good. And I was proud of him and the business he’d started up. I was proud of him for pulling away from the lifestyle he had. I knew, firsthand, how hard something like that was.

  But, I had my other concerns.

  Like, whether or not Eli might get hurt on the job. I mean, if he dealt in criminal defense, that made him a target for a lot of nasty people sometimes. Right? I wasn’t sure how all that worked, but if he was defending someone that someone else wanted dead, that might include them wanting his attorney dead.

  Right?

  “I see you panicking,” Janie said.

  I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  “Come on, spit it out. What is it?”

  I sighed. “Do you think it’s possible Eli could get hurt on his job?”

  “Like, shot or something?”

  “I don’t know. Aren’t attorneys sometimes targets in criminal cases?”

  “Like, ‘he’s going after the mob and they put a hit out on him because they’re defending the rat’ kind of deal?”

  I winced. “Yeah. That kind of deal.”

  “I don’t know. I guess it’s possible. It wouldn't worry me more than the lack of time spent with him, though. Can’t get to really know someone if they’re never around.”

  “Yeah…”

  I sighed. I was tired of worrying about the people I loved. I sipped on my coffee, living out the last few minutes of my evening break. I let my mind drift back to my date with Eli. How easy conversation had flowed. How natural it felt to pull him close to me. How wonderful his lips felt against mine and how amazing his laughter sounded to my ear.

  I shivered at the thought of his face between my legs again.

  Please, let there be a round two.

  The more I relieved our date, the more my heart lunged with happiness. Everything about it had been perfect. From the way he kept staring at me to the way we opened up to one another to the way he looked standing on my balcony. Eli James was the perfect man. At the very least, the perfect man for me.

  I wasn’t sure how I knew that after only one date. But, I knew.

  I pulled my phone out to check it, but there was nothing. Reminiscent of my last four previous attempts at finding a life partner for myself. I felt my heart sink a little bit, but I tried keeping my spirits high. He was probably busy with work. And if they’d called him on a Saturday morning, then an emergency probably took place.

  Was he hurt?

  I pushed the thought from my head and finished off my coffee. I closed my eyes, clinging to the smell and feel of that sweet note he’d left me. Right there, held to my fridge by a magnet. With breakfast waiting for me in the oven. I sighed at how sweet the gesture had been. I smiled to myself, already anxious at the idea of it happening again.

  Maybe this time, we’d be able to share breakfast together. Out on the balcony, while the morning sun beamed down against us.

  Would he like something like that?

  “Oh, you got it bad,” Janie said, giggling.

  My eyes ripped open and I pushed my empty coffee cup away.

  “I think my break is done.”

  “You’ve got it really bad for this guy,” she said.

  “Enough, Janie. I knew I shouldn't have told you anything.”

  “Oh, come on! I’m just playing around with you. You know I always keep it real with you. I never try to sugarcoat anything because you deserve to know the truth. You deserve all sides of every coin.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe try to keep it to yourself a little longer next time.�
�

  I caught the tone of my voice and quickly backtracked.

  “I’m sorry. I just--my head is reeling now and I’m not sure--.”

  Janie took my hand. “What is it? What’s on your mind?”

  “I have to get back to work.”

  She tugged me back down into my seat. “Work can wait a few seconds. What’s going on in your mind?”

  “Just… you have me thinking now. About why he hasn’t called. Or texted. Or come by, or anything like that.”

  “He will, Giana. If he likes you, and he promised you a second date, and he seems like a standup guy, then he will. Okay? You have to remember that we deal with a lot of jerks. Sometimes, it’s hard to accept when we’ve come across a good one. Maybe this is your good one.”

  “I really hope so, Janie. Because I’m getting so tired of doing everything alone.”

  “I know you are, girl. I know you are.”

  “Nurse Giana!”

  The Head Nurse’s voice wafted across the cafeteria, jerking my head around. I saw Nurse Cabot standing at the cafeteria’s entrance and I flagged her down. She turned to me with pursed lips and signaled for me to come on, which meant I’d overstayed my welcome during my break.

  “I’ll take the fall for it this time,” Janie said.

  “Good. Because you're the reason why we’re late,” I said, grinning.

  But, when we threw away our trash and got out into the hallway, something unexpected happened.

  “Giana, I need to see you in my office. Nurse Jackson, you can get back to work,” Cabot said.

  I peeked over at Janie and watched her nod. She looked over at me and gave me a sorrowful look before leaving the two of us alone. My eyes gravitated back to Nurse Cabot, and I wondered what the hell kind of trouble I’d gotten into now. Had the Diliano Family called and complained about me? Had Julian gotten me written up for something?

  “Follow me,” Nurse Cabot said.

  And a couple minutes later, the two of us walked into her office.

  11

  Eli

  “Can you point out the officer in question that pulled you and your friend over that night?” I asked.

  My witness pointed. “Him. Over there. Officer Buckley.”

  “You remember his name. Why?” I asked.

  “Because I always get officer’s names whenever they pull us over. ‘Case we end up here.”

  “Officer Buckley, in his report, claims your friend pulled a gun on him.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “Why would Officer Buckley think that, though?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure, sir.”

  “Did your friend give any sudden movements?”

  “Nope. Hands were on the wheel and his head was down the whole time.”

  “Did your friend have anything secured to his hips? A cell phone? Mace? Anything like that?” I asked.

  “He didn’t, sir. No. That officer pulled his gun on us because we were black, and nothing else.”

  “And when Officer Buckley asked you two to get out of the car, did he have his gun drawn?”

  “He did.”

  “Did your friend get out with his hands locked behind his head?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, he was tackled to the ground anyway. Did he resist arrest?” I asked.

  “No, sir.”

  “Brandish any weapon? A knife, or anything?”

  “Not at all, sir.”

  “Did he backtalk the officers in any way?”

  “He answered the officer’s questions as politely as I’m answering yours right now.”

  I nodded. “I’d like to submit to evidence the chest-cam tape of Officer Buckley, subpoenaed for this specific case. It documents my witness’s testimony to the letter.”

  After finding my witness during a weekend search, we came upon him locked in a cellar in an abandoned house not far from where he lived. Maybe a couple of miles outside his own damn neighborhood. It was a snatch and grab from his house, but he seemed okay once we found him. He hadn’t been beaten. Or hurt. Or stabbed. Or shot. He’d been fed. Given drinks. And after we got him to a hospital to be checked out, it didn’t take us long to figure out who had put him in that position.

  Officer Buckley’s partner.

  Not only was I about to reduce my client’s sentence, I was in the process of opening up an entirely new criminal case against the man. He was as dirty as they came. Just as racist as the pigs on television, and he’d gone unchecked for far too long. And he knew my witness currently on the stand had much to say about that night. About the night he arrested my client.

  I entered every single piece of evidence I’d come up with over the weekend. I kept my client as well as my witness under protective custody I privately hired out for them. And the more I dug into this simple case, the more complex it became.

  And I was about to flip this officer’s world on his fucking head.

  After submitting the chest-cam that backed up my witness’s testimony of that night, I entered another piece of evidence. Regular drug testing both my client and my witness had to have on a regular basis for prior charges they had faced. Less than twenty-four hours after they’d been pulled over, they both had a drug test. Which came out negative for THC. And a week after that night went down? Another test. Which was also negative for THC. Screened drug tests. A complete and total violation of the privacy of bathroom rights, and yet something that is sometimes necessary to make sure someone is following the rules.

  And yet, this officer claimed the two of them had been smoking marijuana. Which is why he pulled both of them from the car.

  Not only did I debunk the entire reason why the officer pulled them over, I showed the jury his unnecessary force. I planted a seed of doubt. The idea that the officer might have actually planted the marijuana on my client, since I’d been able to prove they hadn’t been smoking it. Like the officer claimed in his testimony. In the end, the charges against my client were dropped, with the assumption that their prior drug testing for other previous indictments continued as usual.

  And a formal investigation into Officer Buckley and his partner had been opened.

  I couldn't take the case, of course. Conflict of interest, and all that. But, I called Violet and had her prepare everything we found on Officer Buckley to be sent over to the lawyer appointed to prosecute his case. I couldn't stand corrupt police officers. I understood how they worked. How they bent the law to suit them. My family used men like Officer Buckley all the time, and looking into the eyes of men like that reminded me of the life I’d crawled my ass away from.

  Made me sick to my stomach to look at.

  “Sir! Sir!”

  As I came down the courthouse steps, I heard a woman calling out for me. I heard her wailing and I dropped my briefcase, watching as she stumbled into my arms. I picked her up, holding her close to me as my eyes darted around. I saw people looking at me. Furrowing their brows and trying to figure out why the hell this woman had lost her damn mind.

  “Please, Mr. James, you have to help me,” she said through her sobs.

  “It’s okay. I need you to draw in some breaths and tell me what’s going on,” I said.

  “Please. My son, he’s--.”

  I gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her away from me. I gazed into her eyes. War-torn. Puffy. Filled with sorrow and anger and questions. I wiped her tears away as she sniffled, her entire body shivering.

  “Your son what, ma’am?” I asked.

  “My son was killed. I need--I need your--.”

  I closed my eyes and pulled her back into an embrace. Many lawyers would have slapped me across my wrists with a ruler for becoming so comfortable with people who might be clients. But, this was clearly a grieving woman who needed a shoulder to cry on. I swayed her side to side on the steps of the courthouse. I let her cry it out. I let her get it out of her system. And once I heard her finally pulling herself together, I took a step back.

  “Follow me to
my office and tell me everything you know,” I said.

  “I don’t--have a car, Mr. James. You’re Mr. James, right? The one who just took on DaVonican’s case?”

  Ah. The client I’d just defended in court from Officer Buckley.

  “Yes. That’s me. Let me give you a ride to my office, then. A bus runs right by the corner I work on. It’ll be easy for you to get on it and get yourself back to where you need to be,” I said.

  “Thank you so much,” she said breathlessly.

  I escorted her to my car and opened the door for her. I looked around, my mind already gearing up for this next case. I had a feeling it would be a pro bono one. Which I didn’t mind. But, I’d become accustomed to studying my surroundings from the first second a client told me they needed my services. I could tell a lot about my surroundings whenever I worked. If someone was staring a little too much. Or, working too hard not to stare.

  And after taking a good look around me, I got into my car beside her.

  “All right, Mrs.--?”

  “Agatha,” she said.

  “Okay, Mrs. Agatha. Start from the beginning and tell me what you think know about what happened to your son.”

  As she talked and cried, I drove us to my office. And my heart broke with every unfolding of her story. A fourteen-year old boy, late coming home from school. A mother, worried he was following in the footsteps of his deadbeat father. It was a story that was all too familiar to the rougher streets of New York City. One I’d dealt with many times over the course of my career. The mother suspected it was a local gang. A rival to the one his father was in. A revenge killing, of sorts.

  And after that, she fell apart in my car again.

  I got her into my office and told Violet to clear anything in my afternoon. Because I wanted to pay strict attention to what this woman had to say. I’d already made the decision to take her case, whether she could pay me or not. Because she needed help. She needed comfort. She needed closure to this situation.

  My heart bled for her.

  “Come on. Sit down, and I’ll get you some water,” I said.

  I peeked out my door to Violet and nodded toward her. Signaling her to get this woman something cool to drink. I walked around my desk and sat down in my chair, bracing myself for the hefty afternoon. Talking to women like this with stories like the one she had reminded me why I’d left my family. Why I’d gotten out of that lifestyle. Too many of the mob’s own buried children much too young. Family members and good friends passing well before their time. And the younger ones were always more at risk because of reasons like this.