Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76539 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 383(@200wpm)___ 306(@250wpm)___ 255(@300wpm)
My eyebrows raise. “I’m sorry?”
“Are you Sara the lawyer or Sara my wife’s friend?”
I sit very still and try to get a sense for where this is going. Carmine watches me in return. My stomach’s doing flips, tying itself into knots, but I keep that off my face. I don’t want to show weakness to a man like this if I can avoid it, and I take a few moments to consider what he’s saying.
“I’m not officially your lawyer yet,” I say very carefully. “If you’re about to admit to crimes—”
He holds up a hand. “I don’t commit crimes.”
“All right, then I’m a little bit of both.”
He clears his throat and I realize he might be as nervous as I am. “Here’s the situation. One of my guys got arrested and charged with murder two days ago, and I think he’s innocent.”
I let that sink in. The silence feels heavy and oppressive. I knew Carmine was into some dark stuff, but murder? And here, in Texas? His family is based in Philadelphia, and although he travels back and forth with Brice for work, they’ve been spending more and more of their time on the East Coast these days. I had no clue he had guys in Dallas, much less guys that might get thrown in jail for a serious offense like freaking murder.
“I’m not sure what I can do to help you,” I admit and start opening a drawer. “We have some good defense attorneys if you want me to make a recommendation—” I start pulling through paperwork, looking for a card I can offer him, but he shakes his head.
“No, I’m here because I don’t trust anyone else. I have my own suits back in Philly, but I need someone licensed here in Texas. I need someone that has my best interests at heart.”
“Carmine,” I say, spreading my hands. “Murder isn’t my thing. I do intellectual property disputes.”
“The law is the law. You could take this on, couldn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“He’s innocent, Sara. I don’t know by whom, and I don’t know why, but he was set up.”
I rub my face and shake my head. “Carmine, I’m sorry, this is nuts. I’m a first year IP lawyer, I couldn’t possibly help you with a murder case whether your guy is innocent or not.”
“I’ll triple your normal rate.”
That gets my attention. I sit still, eyebrows raised. Putting a triple rate case on my books would be absolutely massive, and I could really use a ton of help if I’m going to impress the guys here. Klein and Houndson is a top law firm in Texas and I’m bottom of the rung, which means there are half a dozen other smart and capable lawyers fighting tooth and nail to push me even lower on the pecking order.
And this place is a little—traditional would be the nice term. There are other female lawyers here, even a few female partners, but not many even though the law industry as a whole is rapidly changing and diversifying. Klein and Houndson remains one of the few places that hasn’t kept up with the times, and now I’m struggling through that mess.
Taking on a client like Carmine, a client willing and able to pay fat bills, would be extremely beneficial.
But it’s a murder case, and I don’t do murder cases.
“I’m sorry, Carmine, I just can’t.”
“If I could go hire any old lawyer, I would, but none of them are going to believe me. You barely believe me and you were at my wedding. I know who I am and I know what my people do, but I’m telling you the truth right now. My guy was set up and I can’t let him rot in jail for something he didn’t do. So please, help me out. Help him out.”
I rub my temples. There’s that headache again ready to bloom, and the laptop’s not even plugged in. What the hell is Carmine thinking, coming to me with a case like this? I love Brice, but that doesn’t mean I’m about to throw my life away working with a freaking mobster.
But then again, even gangsters deserve good representation, and if Carmine really thinks I’m the only person able to do the job—
And the money’s going to be good, which helps a whole lot.
“I could, in theory, take it on.”
“Perfect,” he says and hits his thighs with his palms. “That’s great. Let’s sign the documents and get to work.”
“But wait, hold on, I said in theory—”
“I’ll need a lot of your time, all right? Lots and lots of billable hours. Go fucking nuts, I don’t care what it takes. I want to clear my boy’s name.”
I groan and shake my head. “Carmine—”
“His name is Nicolas Cavallo. Young guy, barely twenty-one. Smart, fluent in Spanish and Italian, an up-and-coming sort of guy. He’s not the type to kill a room full of Mexican cartel members, but that’s what they’re saying he did.”