Oh, this is a song I’ve heard many times before.
I don’t fault them for thinking their friend is innocent. Most people don’t believe the person they know is capable of committing the crime they’re accused of, even after a confession.
Here’s what I know: Ten years ago, Cole Maddox was arrested for possession of an illegal firearm and received a maximum sentence of ten years. He spent six years in prison and the other four on parole. Is it a coincidence that he’d get arrested for another felony ten years later, right as his parole is almost up?
It’s not my place to judge the man or his friends. Guilty or not, he deserves legal representation.
“Let’s focus on the matter at hand and we’ll work on proving his innocence later,” I say, shifting my gaze between the two men. “Mr. Maddox—”
“Trigger,” Saint says firmly, the tightness in his voice sending my heart into a nervous gallop.
“I beg your pardon?”
“His name is Trigger,” he says. “Surely, Miss Halloway, you’re not one of those people who scoff at the names men like us choose to use.” Before I can respond, he shrugs and explains, “Cole Maddox is the name he was given by the parents he doesn’t even remember. Trigger is his real name.”
Deep breath, Maeve. Slow and deep!
“Right,” I whisper, questioning for a moment why I’m agreeing to take this job. “As I was saying, this isn’t a routine charge. Mr. Mad— Excuse me, Trigger, is on parole, which means the system sees him as someone who has a strike against him. Now he’s been caught with illegal substances, so that’s a double strike.”
“What does that mean?”
“The judge won’t be looking just at the new charge when it comes to deciding on the bail, but will also weigh whether he’s a danger to the community, whether he’ll show up to court, and whether he’s likely to re-offend.” Saint’s eyes fire up and he starts to say something, but Hawk stops him by laying a hand on his shoulder. “Right now, the odds are not in his favor.”
“Are you saying you can’t do it?” Saint challenges. “If so, then we’re wasting our time here.”
I lift my chin. “Of course I can do it,” I say firmly, doing my best to stare down two of the most dangerous men in the city.
My father’s voice slips into my mind again, challenging me as he always does.
Are you sure, honey? No shame in changing your mind if you want to go into a different area of study…
He paid my way through law school, but whenever things got tough, he was always quick to tell me I could change my mind if I wanted. That I could choose a different path.
I could tell he wanted me to do something nicer. More feminine. My father loves me, but he’s old-fashioned.
And he should have known better. I got my stubbornness from him, so whenever he told me it was okay to give up I always just dug in my heels a little more.
It’s a sickness, really. The constant need to prove myself.
But these men are not my father, and there’s no backing out if I take this case.
I’m not taking this job for the money, even though I desperately need to pay the rent for this office space. I’m taking it for the challenge.
Getting bail for a Steel Rebel on parole is as exciting as it is challenging, but I’ll be the one to do it. This is the path I choose.
“I’m not saying I can’t do it, but it’s not going to be easy,” I offer, trying to hide my excitement. When Saint shoots up to his feet, I quickly add, “The judge will have to weigh whether holding him is truly necessary. I’ll lean into what we have, which is his clean record since parole. Can you vouch for consistent check-ins?”
“Yes,” Hawk, the parole officer, nods when I turn to look at him. “He hasn’t missed an appointment.”
“Good,” I say as the wheels spin in my head. “If the drugs weren’t on him directly, or there’s ambiguity, I’ll push hard on that angle. I can also propose stricter conditions like more frequent check-ins. It’s not ideal but it’s enough to give us a fighting chance with the judge.”
“He’s innocent,” Saint hisses, turning his back on us to face the small window that looks out on the busy streets of midtown Chicago. “Ten years ago, Trigger was convicted of a crime he didn’t commit, and just when he’s starting his life again, the fucking cops plant drugs on him. I should have fucking known they would pull another dirty trick! Ten years ago, we trusted the system, believed that the fucking court-appointed attorney had enough dignity to stand up for what was right, but he didn’t do shit for Trigger.”
Under the rage vibrating through his voice and body, there’s a thick layer of pain and guilt. “I’m not going to let that happen again. I won’t hire some stiff-necked lawyer who’s moreinterested in dragging out the case and bleeding money from the Rebels.” I gasp when he turns his dark eyes back to me. “You’ll get him out, Miss Halloway, won’t you?”
I flinch at the hardness in his voice, feeling a chill run down my spine from the rage in his face. I can tell it’s not directed at me, but that does little to assure me.
“I…” I clear my throat when my voice squeaks. “Yes, I’ll get him out.” I take a moment to gather my wits, unwilling to cave under the pressure brought about by their presence. “I need to speak to my client so we can prepare for the bail hearing. It’s happening this afternoon, you said.”
