Axel: See you infifteen.
Blake: Fifteen? In Chicago traffic? You mean you’re going to speed and run red lights.
Axel: I prefer “creatively interpret traffic suggestions.”
Me: Just get here.
Blake: We’re coming.
Axel: We’re the Sinners and Saints. We fix shit. It’s literally our brand.
Jace: We don’t have a brand.
Axel: We DO NOW. I’m making T-shirts.
56
RYKER
“The fuck is going on?” Jace asked as he settled into the chair across from my desk.
Blake and Axel flanked him, all three staring at me like I might spontaneously combust. Which … fair. I probably looked about two seconds away from detonation.
I cracked my knuckles. “Bottom line? I’m losing Faith’s case. Let’s recap where we’re at, shall we?”
I started ticking off my fingers, each point another nail in the coffin of my confidence. “One: The ADA is throwing the book at her, every charge imaginable. Even though some of them won’t stick, he’s coming after her hard.”
My second finger went up. “Two: The story has now spread everywhere. Everyone knows about it, so now any potential jury is tainted. Even if I tried to get it moved, I’d bet your ass Judge Kearns will pull strings to make sure it stays right here in the heart of Chicago. Speaking of our favorite judge”—my voice dripped with sarcasm—“he confronted me. Has every intention of burying her and using every connection to do it.”
Another finger. “Three: Don’t forget, the crime scene photos were leaked, so public outcry will not only taint the jury, but will also put pressure on the prosecution to lock her up. And that’s ifsome psycho doesn’t kill her first.” My hand was almost a fist at this point. “Now, they have every secret Faith was keeping, and they have a record of her threatening his life. And, yeah, we’ve got the phone records, showing hundreds of harassing texts. His prints on the knife, proving there was a struggle. Her documented head wound. But none of that matters if the jury already thinks she’s a cold-blooded killer before they even sit down. We need ONE goddamn thing to actually turn this around!”
I swept everything off my desk in one violent motion. Papers fluttered to the floor like dying birds, and my coffee mug shattered against the wall, leaving a dark stain that matched my mood.
Axel took a leisurely sip of his coffee and gestured at me with his tumbler. “Wow. That was dramatic.” He studied the coffee stain on my wall like it was modern art. “You know what this reminds me of? That time in law school when you threw your Constitutional Law textbook out the window. Except that was because you aced the exam and wanted to celebrate.” He tilted his head. “This is significantly less festive.”
He sat down and kicked his feet up on my desk, right where my papers used to be. “Look, watching you lose your shit is both entertaining and deeply concerning. Like finding out Santa Claus has road rage.” He picked up a pen that had survived my desk massacre and twirled it between his fingers. “You’re supposed to be the ice-cold legal machine who makes prosecutors cry. Not the guy redecorating his office with coffee splatter art.”
“The prosecution is wiping the floor with me.” The admission tasted like shit in my mouth. “I’m failing her.” I slumped back in my chair, suddenly exhausted. “Maybe I should’ve handed this case over to someone else. Maybe I’m in over my head. I thought I was in the best position to help her. But now, I’m realizing that maybe being emotionally invested in her hurt the case more than it helped it. Maybe someone who wasn’t in love with her wouldn’t have left themselves open to blind spots.”
The office went silent. The kind of silence that makes you realize you’ve just stepped on a conversational land mine.
Axel, the most sarcastic bastard in our group, stuck his finger in his ear, wiggling it theatrically. “I’m sorry. Did you just confess that you’re in love with Blake’s sister?”
Shit. I sure did.
The evidence was right in front of me in the form of Blake’s death glare. If looks could kill, they’d be scraping me off the walls with a spatula.
“Everybody, stay calm,” Axel announced, holding his hands up like he was directing traffic at a crime scene. “We are witnessing a historic moment. Ryker just admitted to having feelings. Actual human feelings.” He pulled out his phone. “I need to document this. Where’s the nearest notary?”
Blake’s eye twitched.
“Go easy on him, Blake,” Axel continued, patting his shoulder with exaggerated concern. “Our boy’s clearly having some sort of neurological event. He threw office supplies. He’s confessing feelings. Tomorrow, he’ll probably start a TikTok account and take up interpretive dance.”
“You’re not helping.” Although, in fairness, I didn’t hate his sarcasm. Without it, I might explode.
“This is the first time you’ve admitted to loving anything that wasn’t precedent law or single malt scotch. And it’s Blake’s sister.” He stopped mid-pace. “Blake’s SISTER. The same Blake who once threatened to remove your spleen for looking at her wrong.”
“Shut up, Axel,” I snapped, watching Blake grow even tenser.
