Page 27 of Saint
Anger rolled off him, but I didn’t give a fuck. I understood he didn’t like my Da, but what the hell did that have to do with me? Back then I knew these two detectives had it out for me, but I couldn’t understand why. I’d even mentioned it to my Da, which evidently was the wrong person to say anything to. But I was a seventeen-year-old kid. A baby who didn’t know shit about how the cops operated. And these two used my trust in the police against me. But now I knew how they rolled. It didn’t matter if I didn’t do shit, they’d find a way to pin it on me anyway. But not this time. Every fucking thing that had gone wrong in my life centered around my fucking sperm donor but this time I would not be the collateral damage to his behavior. I was going home to my woman.
“You’re going down, Lawson,” Detective Moore threatened. “Just like you did all those years ago.”
Once again, the door swung open and the Sinners' lawyer, Johnathan Ledet strolled in. The man had a presence and was a badass in the courtroom. He wasn’t around when I got sent up the first time. I was sure if he’d been my lawyer there’d been no way in hell, I would have pulled time. He would have figured out a way to get me off.
He arched his brow. “Gavin, you good?”
“You got here just in time, Johnathan,” I said without taking my eyes off the detective. “It looks like Detective Moore has a problem with his temper.”
“I see,” Johnathan said, eyeing Detective Moore. “Detective, I suggest you get out of my client's face and have a seat unless you want to have a lawsuit on your hands.”
He unwillingly pulled his gaze away from me and focused on Johnathan Ledet. The man was one of the most powerful defense attorneys in Oakland, and always got any member cleared of anything they’d been charged with. I wished I’d been a Sinner all those years ago, I know for a fact I never would have served a day in prison.
Ledet took the seat beside me, his six-foot-four frame barely contained in the rickety metal chair. He sat his brown leatherbriefcase on the floor at his feet. “Sorry it took me so long to get here,” he said, apologizing. “I was in court, so it took a while for my assistant to get me the message.”
“No worries,” I said. I was just grateful he was here now. “I haven’t said anything.”
“Good.”
He turned his attention to the two detectives who were seething in their seats. They knew the reputation of Johnathan Ledet. And they also knew they were fucked. He’d eat them and the fake ass evidence alive.
“So, gentlemen, you don’t have a case. My client will not be making a statement at this time.”
“You don’t know what we have,” Detective Moore sneered. “Your client killed a man, and we have an eyewitness to prove it. He’s a violent criminal and this time, I’ll be putting him in prison for life.”
I held in my emotions. I wouldn’t let them goad me into showing any anger especially when they’d try to use that outburst against me. There was no fucking way I killed anyone, and I could prove it. I was either at the shop, with Oya, or at the clubhouse. Every place had security footage to prove where I was.
“You have anything to say for yourself?” Detective Chavis asked me.
I looked at my attorney then looked back at Detective Chavis, keeping my mouth shut.
“My client has nothing more to say, and this interview is over.”
He leaned over and whispered in my ear, then got up and left. My bond hearing was at nine in the morning, and I’d be home for lunch.
“Take me back to my cell.”
11
My bond hearing was set not one day after my arrest like Johnathan said but four damn days. He ran into brick wall after brick wall trying to find out why the day had been moved. Four days I had to spend in that godforsaken place before all the evidence my lawyer gave to the detectives and the DA was reviewed then all the charges had been dropped before I’d even made it in front of the judge. There was no way I could have done what they accused me of doing. No doubt Oya’s ex-husband was involved. He tried to stonewall my release. The question was why.
Fucking four days of revenue lost because of some bullshit. Four days of my time with Oya, gone.
“How much longer?” I asked.
“Messina said any day now,” King responded, rubbing his temples. “He’s having to tie up loose ends so none of us go down for this. Killing a sitting congressman can’t be done without some planning, little brother.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m just tired of all this shit. If it hadn’t been for the surveillance at the shop I turned over and Oya giving the surveillance footage of us entering her house, I’d be in jail again for something I didn’t do.”
“What the hell, did you just say?” Reaper asked, his brows pulled together in confusion. “In jail for something you didn’t do?”
Fuck! I’d been so wound up I didn’t even think before I said anything. I was planning on taking that secret to the grave. Just because my relationship with our Da would always be shit that didn’t mean their relationship had to be too.
“Never mind.”
I hoped they dropped the subject but the way they both glared at me, I wouldn’t be that lucky. Fuck! This won’t go over good.
I sighed. “If I tell you, you have to promise to let it go. It’s done and over with.”
