Page 13 of Bullet

It’s a minute before Smoke speaks, but when he does, his words are uncharacteristically serious and deep. “Do we?”

The chill of them reverberates through me long after we leave the edge of the parking lot and go back to standing beside the charred, smoldering ruins of the business that was like a second home to me. Not even the lingering heat banishes the ice that seeps into my muscles, deadening my libs, biting into my bones.

Chapter 5

Lynette

“Fired? What do you mean,fired?”

Samantha Anderson is one of the senior partners at the firm. Not a name on the wall partner, but she’s been here for fifteen years. She hasn’t made a name for herself the way some have, but she makes a comfortable living. She’s reliable, steadfast, and levelheaded. She might lack that streak of ruthless ambition that characterizes most successful lawyers, but she’s managed to hold on to her humanity in this business, and that’s really saying something.

She’s basically my boss, and I’ve always respected that she’s never sacrificed her morals or her integrity, and she still managed to make partner. She’s kind and compassionate, sometimes to a fault. I’d almost go as far as to call her motherly, but she’s Samantha and never Sam. She’s always professional about her kindness.

She looks at me with pity now, and I can’t bear to see it.

I was called into her office as soon as I got to work, which, seeing as I took Willa to college this morning to get her enrolled, was just after eleven.

I knew exactly why she wanted to see me.

I’d thought about Bullet all weekend in ways I don’t want to admit to, but also professionally. I felt a sense of dread that I just couldn’t shake. The shadow that loomed over me all of yesterday and wormed its way through my mind this morning,transforming into a hard edge of foreboding, seems to be justified.

“You know we have strict policies about representing anyone involved with organized crime or who have gang affiliations.” Samantha might be playing hard-ass right now, but it’s because it’s the only way she can get through this. “You went rogue, and this firm doesn’t appreciate the disrespect and disregard you’ve shown. We have a reputation to uphold. People will look at our firm differently if they think that we’re defending gangsters and mobsters.”

“It’s not— you mean Mr. Aberdeen?”

“I do mean Hamish ‘Bullet’ Aberdeen.”

“No. This isn’t really about him. It’s about—”

Samantha slaps her palm down on her desktop, causing me to jump in the chair I’m perched in right across from her. I’m not sure who the hell put her up to this, or why she has to do it, but I feel sorry for her. Her face hardens. The look of warning she shoots me churns my stomach into a nauseating ice storm.

“Stop and think very carefully about what you’re saying here and in the future. This is a warning. You might not work for us any longer, but if you want to practice law in this state, I would suggest that you proceed with caution. It’s not just our firm that doesn’t take too kindly to having their reputation smeared.”

“I wasn’t—I never smeared anyone.”

“You suggested that certain people could be bought, which implies corruption to the system at the highest level.”

“That’s not what I said!” I don’t know why I’m defending myself. The decision has already been made. I no longer have a job. I suppose it’s the righteous indignation bubbling up inside me that makes me blurt the words.

Samantha’s expression softens slightly, but she quickly wipes away all traces that she might secretly agree with me and know how wrong this is. “No, but it was implied, and implications are just as damaging.”

“Is this for real?” I don’t mean to say that, but the words come out as a moan anyway.

“It’s very real. You’re no longer working here as of right now. You’ll be escorted to your office by security and allowed ten minutes to gather your personal things. All company property must remain company property.”

The situation sinks in, permeating my bones. This is exactly what I was afraid of before I put myself on the line for a man I don’t even know, all because he did my sister one small kindness—in her mind at least—and she begged me.

Why couldn’t I just say no, like I have every other time she’s asked me for something wild? Even so, I would still have a job if only I’d just played the game. I knew what I was doing when I did it.

Judge Ornell Henry Jenkins has been playing this game longer than I’ve been alive. I knew I couldn’t skirt around the warrant he issued with impunity. To the world, he’s an honest judge, but on the other side, the rank underbelly, he’s obviously been corrupt for a while now. This is how he keeps his name free from any shadows of suspicion. He’s no better than a thug himself.

At least Mr. Aberdeen never pretended to be anything he wasn’t.

Jesus, fuck, why am I thinking about him as something verging on honesty? I should be cursing his name in a death chant.

I picture him at the coffee shop, huge body dwarfing that wooden chair, long legs stuffed under the ugly table, circling that crusty coffee ring with a finger that somehow contained more masculinity in a single digit than most men can muster up in their entire being. I can hear his words, softly spoken, not mocking or playful.

“If you get fired, you could always start your own firm and come work for the club.”

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