Page 5 of The Enforcer

Before I got to the store, however, two police cars skidded to a stop in front of me, officers hopped out and pointed guns at me. I remember being too scared to ask what was going on, only worried about being shot for something I didn’t do.

They yelled at me and cuffed me, tossing me into the back of a squad car where they left me for nearly an hour while they did God knows what. Then they carted me to the police station where they questioned me for hours about a robbery. I tried to tell them I was playing basketball when the robbery took place, but they either didn’t believe me or didn’t care.

Luckily, one of the kids I was playing ball with heard about the arrest and told my parents. They came down to the station immediately to get me out of there. Good thing too, because I told the police officers I’d tell them whatever they wanted to hear, as long as I could go home.

Had that event not happened, I probably wouldn’t have become a lawyer to right some of the wrongs in the justice system—not that I stay completely on this side of the law, but that’s neither here nor there. I also never would have met Zeke.

All roads lead to Zeke.

Snapping back to the present, I tell him, “You called at the perfect time. Five minutes later, I would have been snoring.”

“You don’t snore,” he says offhandedly, making me raise an eyebrow. We’ve been practically inseparable since the moment I showed up at the clubhouse, but it’s weird he knows that. Or am I looking too deeply into it, wanting Zeke to know these things about me? He’s the only one that knows how much cases like the one I’m taking mean to me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he knew that small, but intimate detail.

“What’s up? How was Cuba?” I know Zeke goes to Cuba to oversee the drugs they sell through the club and I also know what he, Finn and Rax get up to. Surprisingly, going by how I feel about Zeke, I’m not jealous of what they do. I’m jealous that I’m not a part of it. The idea of their threesomes is hot as fuck.

Zeke’s camera bobs, which I take to mean he’s shrugging. “It was cool. The guys say hello.”

I nod in acknowledgment. “I’d like to go with you one day,” I mutter, not sure where that thought came from. I mean, I would like to go, but I never told him I did. This is the first time I’m expressing it and I one hundred percent blame it on my lack of sleep.

Zeke’s eyes widen in surprise. “Really?” I nod slowly. “Okay, I’m going back in a couple of months so I can watch them load up,”—he’s talking about getting the drugs ready for transport to the states—“and I’ll stay a few days after. You can come down with me.”

“Okay.” I yawn so wide my jaw cracks. “You gonna be around the clubhouse in a few days? I’ll come see you. I can’t tomorrow since I’ll be arguing with the cops and hopefully a judge to get my client out. The day after? Are you free?”

A strange look crossed Zeke’s face for a moment, but it disappears so quickly I have to question if it even happened. “Yeah, I’ll most likely be there. If not there, at home. You have the key.”

“Yep. I have to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Zeke hangs up without a goodbye. He never says goodbye when we hang up. For some reason, I find that endearing.

Placing my phone on my chest, I sigh, my mind racing as I think about Zeke. It’s hopeless to think that I’ll be enough for him. Over the years, there’s been a revolving door of men and women with Zeke, none lasting for more than a few months. He also likes group sex, so little ol’ me—not really little, but the point still stands—doesn’t have a hope in a bucketful of hopes of satisfying Zeke. I haven’t tried a threesome since I was in undergrad. I’m not sure my inexperience, or maybe even reluctance, in trying something Zeke seems to love will be looked upon favorably.

Since I met him, he’s always talked about never being tied down and wanting to be free. Me? I’m the opposite. I want to settle down and find that special someone. I want to come home to them and only them for the rest of my days.

But Zeke is who I want and he doesn’t want that.

With a huff, I toss my phone on the coffee table, punch my pillow into a comfortable position, then shut my eyes. I’m engulfed by the darkness of my exhaustion before I know it.

Chapter Three

Shane

Judge Moss’s voice booms in the courtroom as he looks down at me and my client. “The defendant is charged with assault with intent and fleeing the scene a crime. How do you plead?”

“Not guilty, Your Honor,” I reply, pushing papers aside so I can get to the folder I tossed on the table before I started talking to my client, Perry Clark. He looks scared shitless, his already pale skin looking deathly white.

Judge Moss nods. The prosecutor stands, buttoning his jacket. “The state requests remand, Your Honor. The defendant is a flight risk, as he’s already proven he’ll run from police officers.”

I let the smug attorney across the aisle from me get it all out, as he points at Perry and accuses him of trying to beat a man to death, then running away from the scene of the crime. It’ll be so much sweeter when Judge Moss sees what I have in my hands.

Once the puffed-up prosecutor finishes his tirade, I look at Judge Moss. “Your Honor, I move to have charges dismissed due to police intimidation and false arrest.”

The prosecutor sputters, shaking his head. “That’s preposterous! He was at the scene of the crime and?—”

“Didn’t you just make the argument that he’s a flight risk because he ran away from officers? Either he ran or was at the scene of the crime. It can’t be both.”

He sputters again, gearing up for what I’m sure is an impressive case, but Judge Moss bangs his gavel. When we both turn our attention to him, the judge says, “This is not a time for arguments. This is an arraignment, not a trial.” Judge Moss pegs me with curious eyes. “Why move for dismissal? Do you have sufficient evidence?”

“May I approach, Your Honor?” He nods, motioning for me with two fingers. I walk up to the bench, holding the folder up so he can see. “Your Honor, after I reviewed the confession, both written and recorded, I saw that my client was questioned without a parent present. As a minor, that makes the confession in itself inadmissible. He also was not read his Miranda rights. I double checked the body cam footage and the footage that was recorded during interrogation. Adding to that,” I say as I pass over the first folder in my hands, “here is sufficient evidence that my client is innocent of the crime, including sworn statements from three youths he was playing basketball with at the time of the crime and a store clerk that was present when my client entered a nearby convenience store. There is also video evidence, which is time stamped, that shows my client in the establishment while the victim was being attacked.”

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