Wolfe was exactly where I expected. Corner booth, back to the wall, like the predator he was, sitting across the table from a blonde who clearly thought his prosecutorial power was an aphrodisiac.
“Those photos were sealed,” I snapped, not bothering with pleasantries.
“Ryker.” He said my name like he was savoring a particularly good wine. “Your lip looks … interesting. And those knuckles.” His eyes flicked up. “Rough night? Or should I say, rough defense strategy?”
My jaw tightened. I’d changed my clothes before I came here, but fresh fabric only hid so much. “The photos, Wolfe.”
Wolfe continued cutting his prime rib. Blood pooled on his plate. How fitting. “If you don’t mind, Counselor, I’m in the middle of dinner.”
The blonde’s eyes ping-ponged between us, probably sensing she’d stumbled into a deadly standoff. Apex predators circling each other.
“Only a handful of people had access,” I continued, my voice low and threatening. “And you’re the only one with motive.”
Now he looked up, dabbing his mouth with his napkin in that precise way that made my skin crawl.
“You flatter me, Ryker. But I’ve been doing this job long enough to know, you never get your hands dirty when the press is so willing to roll in the mud for you.” He paused, letting his steak knife catch the light. “Speaking of getting hands dirty, you wouldn’t know anything about a certain bar manager who ended up in the emergency room tonight, would you?”
My blood went cold, but I kept my face neutral.
Bastard.
“You leaked them, hoping public outrage will do what the law won’t.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides.
“Public opinion is inadmissible in court,” he said with a theatrical shrug. “But it sure makes jury selection … entertaining.” The son of a bitch. “And speaking of public opinion, how do you think it’ll play when the press finds out Faith Morrison’s lawyer has been playing more than just legal counsel?” He leaned back, smug. “Getting into bar fights over her honor? Acting like some lovesick vigilante instead of an officer of the court?”
The blonde shifted uncomfortably.
“Are you that worried about losing, Counselor?” I snarled. “So terrified of facing me in court that you need to resort to blackmail?”
Wolfe set down his knife and fork. Slowly, menacingly, he rose to his feet. The blonde’s chair scraped against the floor as she scooted back.
“You’re outmatched, Ryker.” His voice carried the quiet confidence of a man who’d never lost a case he cared about winning. “Outgunned. And compromised.”
“Outmatched?” I laughed bitterly. “You mean because evidence keeps disappearing? Surveillance footage that should exist, but doesn’t? Reports that get delayed?” I shook my head. “That’s not outmatched. That’s obstruction.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Not guilt. Satisfaction. “Evidence has a way of surfacing when it’s meant to, Ryker. Or not surfacing.” He straightened his cuffs. “Depends on the case.”
The implication hung in the air like poison.
“You think you’re protecting her?” he snarled. “You’re one headline away from a mistrial. One photo away from an ethics violation. Hell, one more bar fight away from being her cellmate instead of her lawyer.”
“You’re right about one thing.” I stepped closer. “I am emotionally invested. Because unlike you, I give a damn about justice.”
“Justice?” He laughed, low and mean. “Is that what you call assault and battery? Is that what you call compromising your client’s defense with your inability to keep it professional?”
The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, split lip still throbbing from defending Faith’s honor, while Wolfe threatened to use that very defense against her.
“When I bury her, I’ll be sure to put your career six feet under right beside her. Unless, of course, you want to discuss a plea deal. Guilty. Murder one. Life, no parole.”
A plea deal, my ass. That was surrender. “Never.”
“Then I hope you’re prepared for what comes next. The jury will wonder if you’re defending her because she’s innocent … or because you’re in love with her.”
Fucking hell. He smelled blood in the water. Even if I pushed Faith away now, the damage was done. Even if we never looked at each other with interest again, it was too late.
“Oh, and when she’s found guilty, I’ll be sure she goes to a prison for the worst criminals.”
White-hot rage exploded behind my eyes. Visions of slamming my fist into his smug face flashed through my head, but he’d probably welcome that. If I was sitting in lockup for assault, there’d be nothing I could do to protect Faith.
