Page 6 of Watch Me Burn

I had to concede, though, that their recruitment tactics were growing more refined.

“I just want to talk,” Will said. “Would you join me for a coffee? I’ve got a craving for a decent latte, and we’re due a recess soon.” Will smiled.

“So, you’ve been monitoring my purchasing habits too?” I shot back, briefly glancing at the trash can with my morning latte. To his credit, Will didn’t bat an eyelid. I wasn’t sure whether to be unsettled or impressed.

“All right. But you’re picking up the check,” I said.

As I breezed past him, he cheerfully responded, “Absolutely!”

Ouch!

My tongue smarted. I drank coffee every day, but for some stupid reason, I always managed to scorch my tongue on the molten layer of milk that must’ve been brewed in Mount Vesuvius itself. At some point, you’d think a lesson would be learned, right?

“Enjoying it?” Will asked, with what sounded suspiciously like a snide undertone. I smacked my lips, relegating the drink to the corner of our table.

“It’s coffee. I’m a lawyer. It’s basically cocaine to me.”

Will grinned, steepling his fingers, and fixed me with a pointed look. “I’ll cut to the chase. Your prior involvement in the Ethan Wayne case has piqued my interest. It was quite a family affair, wasn’t it? You were friends with the killer, right?”

And there it was, the kicker. “That’s ancient history, and my memory is a little hazy,” I shot back, deadpan. Reflexively, I reached for my blistering mug, only to recoil when a sip was enough to burn my tongue again.

Undeterred, Will pressed on. “Just how hazy can one’s memory be when your best friend killed your own dad?”

“Hazy enough to politely tell you to fuck right off,” I retorted in a calm, icy tone.

Will merely smirked. “Fair play. But indulge me a question. Did you really brave the hell of law school to stay shackled to penniless cases? You’re wrestling with debt, and that condo refinance just got torpedoed thanks to your astronomical student loans. Is this really your game plan? A twenty-eight-year-old woman like you needs a breakthrough, but it seems like your ego is blurring your view.”

The bastard had done his homework, I’ll give him that.

I scoffed. “Coming from the guy who uses a woman’s dead father as bait to reel her in? Yeah, I think I’m solid.” I clenched my stomach, my insides doing flips from a mix of rage and hunger. That six a.m. turkey sandwich was on its last legs.

“I respect your tenacity. But it’s misdirected. As a public defender, your reach is limited. While you’re pleading for Jacob Wyatt, another sorry soul is staring down a decade for a stolen laptop. You can’t patch up our broken legal system solo, and while you may be too fresh to see that now, you’ll need to face reality sooner or later.”

I bit my lip. “And helping millionaires dodge taxes at a high-profile firm like yours is gonna turn the tide?”

“Of course not. But having a face like yours could get our firm the PR we need to top the national charts.”

“I can see the headline now. ‘Girl loses dad to her boyfriend’s murderous streak, fights back as badass lawyer.’ Sounds almost like a Hollywood script.”

Will nodded unabashedly. “It does. And we’d be more than happy to share the financial windfall that such publicity would bring.” He paused, briefly wetting his lips. “Look, I get how this must look. But it’s not as bad as it sounds. At my firm, we aim to give our employees top-tier resources: healthcare, dental, insurance, hefty bonuses. We also let them tackle the cases they’re most fired up about.” Will rolled up the cuffs of his blazer, then went on. “Let me be straight with you. Your resilience is remarkable. The way you weathered the storm and came out swinging. There’s a spark in you”—he pointed to my chest—“and it’s fucking rare.”

“You almost had me with the crescendo there. Really compelling. And I bet you could fatten up my wallet in no time.”

Will bobbed his head, hopeful.

“But . . .” I crossed my arms, turning my attention to the espresso bar as another customer winced at a mouthful of their drink. “Unfortunately, I’m not in it for the money, so how about you fuck off?”

I was sick to death of these vultures. Preying on my deceased father and the nightmare my family endured to pad their own pockets—it was revolting.

Seeing that he was getting nowhere, as had countless others before him, Will didn’t bother with an earth-shattering revelation. Instead, he simply stood, sliding his business card across the table. “Ms. Hudson, with our backing, you could build a network that supports thousands of underprivileged teens like Jacob.” Will studied me a moment longer. “A woman of your intelligence and spirit will inevitably take the path that makes the most sense. If that path aligns with our firm, we’ll be more than ready to uphold my offer to make you rich as fuck. Until then.”

I didn’t reply as he smiled thinly and walked out through the café’s bell-strung doors. The man was an artful dodger. Catching sight of my wristwatch, I almost leaped from my seat. “Shit, I’m running late!” Snatching my purse, I bolted toward the courthouse.

As I raced past passersby, my heart throbbed with a profound ache. Will had landed on a hard truth: even if I managed to save Jacob, there’d be a countless line of kids waging war against the same injustice. Kids paired with indifferent attorneys, state representatives who cared only for their surefire paychecks. In the current world, genuine change called for money—something I was sorely lacking.

Arriving at the courthouse entrance, I struggled to put the memories of Ethan’s final court day from my mind: the way he had stood there, enduring his grandmother’s wailing pleas while the judge demanded order. I had been in tears as well. We had loved Ethan as one of our own—he was my brother’s best friend, my first and only true love. The past always seemed to be a haunting ghost.

How I wished Ethan was innocent. But no one seemed to share my sentiments, so I brushed them off as whimsical thinking. With fifteen years behind bars, if he truly was innocent, what did that say about us? About me?

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