Page 10 of Pulse

A grin stretched across her face. Hard work didn’t scare her. She relished in it. Some might call her lack of life outside her job unhealthy, but she liked it that way.

She needed it that way. Focusing on work from the moment her eyes opened until she passed out at night kept her mind off other things. Painful things. Even relaxing in her enormous garden tub, she’d been about to run through cases in her mind.

“I want it. I can handle it, Margo.”

What was it someone had told her once? Idle hands do the devil’s work. In her case, an idle mind was far more dangerous than idle hands.

Her boss chuckled. “I have no doubt, Tal. I’m more concerned with your work-life balance. Sometimes, you get so wrapped up in your work that you forget there’s an entire world outside the courtroom.”

Was there?

She snorted.

“I appreciate the concern, Margo, but my life is balanced just how I like it.”

“Mm-hmm.” The agreement was heavy with doubt. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”

Talia stood as she rolled her eyes. Water cascaded off her body and into the tub. “I gotta hang up so I can get to the station. But you don’t need to worry about me, Margo. I’m fine.”

“Says every person who’s a hot mess.”

“Goodbye, Margo. See you tomorrow.”

“Bye, Tal. Oh! Before I forget, drinks tomorrow after work at Blu.”

“You’re on.” Margo might be her boss, but she was also her friend. They’d known each other since Talia’s first day of law school when frazzled, she’d appeared in the wrong class. In her final year, Margo had pointed her in the right direction. They’d been close friends ever since. When Margo called her two years ago to let her know she was opening a law firm in sunny Florida with all female partners, she hadn’t needed much seducing to leave her male-dominated firm in Rhode Island. Unfortunately, she’d signed a contract binding her to her old firm until six months ago. Now settled in Florida and working with Margo’s firm, she was happier than she could remember being.

Smiling, Talia hung up, then set the phone back on the ledge. She shivered as she climbed out of the tub and dripped water across the bathroom on the way to the shower. After a quick rinse to remove the suds, she was ready to choose her battle outfit.

It had to be something that commanded respect but let her feel good in her skin. It amazed her that even in this day and age, women in professional roles were judged harshly for their clothing choices. Talia was youngish. She had a good rack and an ass she’d hated when younger but learned to appreciate in her adult years. She enjoyed looking good and refused to hide beneath boxy pants and suits. That said, she wasn’t planning to walk into the station in a crop top and booty shorts either.

After a few minutes of hemming and hawing, she chose a leather pencil skirt and her favorite white sleeveless blouse. The ensemble was classic and professional but still feminine. Three-inch red heels capped off the outfit. Once dressed, she slicked her long hair back into a low ponytail and applied the barestmakeup. Then, she grabbed her bag and left her house with quick, sure steps.

She used the twenty-minute drive to the police station to get back into work mode. Not that she ever left it far behind, but interactions at this particular police station always left her frustrated and a bit ragey, so she needed the time to prepare herself. A handful of dinosaurs worked there—the kind who pretended to talk under their breath when they made their sexist comments and went out of their way to make her job harder.

She loved facing those men in court. Nothing beat the looks on their faces when they realized the ‘girl working a man’s job’ had wiped the floor with them.

Her heart sped up as she whipped her Mercedes into a free spot between two official department vehicles. After killing the engine, she checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “Give ‘em hell, girl,” she whispered to herself.

They were the exact words her grandfather had told her every time she saw him. God, she missed that man. The only man she’d ever fully trusted.

With a swift exhale, Talia hooked her bag over her shoulder and exited the car. Bright lights gleamed from the police station, which was still bustling with activity at eleven p.m. As she approached, a baby-faced officer in uniform who had probably graduated from the police academy last week held the door for her.

“Thank you,” she said as she breezed into the building.

“You’re welcome, ma’am.”

Ah, the politeness of the South, combined with the politeness of low-ranking officers, never failed to make her grin.

“Good evening,” she said to the man behind the reception desk. He, too, wore a uniform but was much closer to retirement than the police academy. A pin on the left side of his uniform announced his last name as Blasetto.

He glanced away from his computer and the game of solitaire he had completed. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled. “What can I do for you, pretty lady?”

Inside, she cringed but somehow managed to keep it from her face. “I’m Max Vargas’ attorney.”

Instantly, the temperature of the conversation plummeted. The officer’s grin flipped to a frown, and his eyes hardened. “You?”

“That’s right,” she said with an overly sugared tone. “Me. I believe he’s in a holding cell. Can I please be taken to him? Now.”

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