Hearsay (10 page)

He pulled out the police report and read it quickly. "This helps a lot," he told his client when he was finished.
 

Coleman flashed a relieved smile, and Derrick beamed at his friend.

Roman saw red.

He tapped his pen on the notepad and cracked his neck. It was only sheer willpower, or perhaps divine intervention, that stopped him from demanding they tone down their sickening familiarity.

"So when do you think I'll be officially charged with child molestation?" Coleman rested his elbows on the table and took a deep breath. "What happens now? Where do we go from here?"

For the first time since arriving for their appointment, Coleman didn't look as if he was being walked to the electric chair. He was obviously a smart man. He knew his future was on the line, and he was still worried. But there was a new brightness in his eyes. He dared to hope things might be all right.

Roman cleared his throat. "The prosecution needs a true bill from a grand jury in order to indict you." He collected the documents and put them inside the folder. He kept his focus on his client. Not once did he glance at Derrick. "We're going to do our best to make sure they don't get it."

Coleman looked between Roman and Derrick several times before asking, "How are you going to do that?"

"Preparing favorable evidence for the grand jury to review prior to making a decision," Derrick explained before Roman could open his mouth, addressing his friend's concerns but looking straight into Roman's eyes.
 

His knees weakened under the admiration he saw reflected in Derrick's beautiful almond-shaped eyes. Roman had no idea what he'd done to earn that look, but he basked in it nonetheless. Had he not been so adept at controlling his reactions, he would've blushed like a teenage girl.

Stop this, Roman. You need to stop. Don't let him think he can take such liberties.

"It can't be as easy as it sounds," Coleman whispered.
 

"A grand jury is controlled by the prosecution and not obligated to accept defensive evidence," Roman said, ending the visual lockdown between him and Derrick. "But sometimes the prosecutors accept it and pass it along to the members of the panel upon defense counsel request as professional courtesy."

"Can you get them to accept it?"

Roman nodded. "There's a good chance. I've developed a good relationship with the District Attorney's office over my years as a defense counselor."

"What if the grand jury refuses to review the evidence, though?" Coleman turned his attention to Derrick. Obviously he needed his friend's reassurance more than that of his new attorney of record. "Can they do that?"

"You let me worry about that, Mr. Coleman," Roman ordered in a strained tone. He could only pretend he didn't give a damn about certain things for so long.
 

"Please, call me Tyler."

No. Way. In. Hell.

"I'd rather not," Roman clipped.

There was enough
closeness
in the conference room as it was.

Coleman frowned. Derrick lifted an eyebrow. Roman took off his glasses and wiped them with the little cloth he always carried in his pocket before putting them back on.

"You'll have to submit to a polygraph test and a psychological evaluation," he told Coleman, eager to finalize their meeting. "We need to get the jury to focus on what an outstanding citizen you are and how hard you've worked to help homeless LGBTQ teens. Are you agreeable with that?"

"Yes, of course," Coleman rushed to answer, rubbing his hands together. "When do you want me to do it?"

"I'll have my paralegal make the appointments and contact you with the details in the next twenty-four hours." He got up from his chair. The other two men followed suit. "Is there anything you want to ask me before you go?"

Coleman shook his head. "I'm good."

Roman wasn't surprised by his answer.

It had taken all of five minutes to see that Coleman was leaning on Derrick for legal advice, direction, and moral support. It went without saying he'd contact Derrick if there was anything he needed to discuss. Unfortunately for Roman's new client, the senior associate wouldn't be able to help him much from now on.

"Please keep in mind the detectives can come for you at any time now. In the event of an arrest, go with them peacefully, inform them you've retained me as your attorney, and don't say anything else. You don't need to worry about making arrangements for bail, either." Roman extended his hand across the table. "Acosta, Bradford, and Chadwick will take care of you."

"Thank you so much for taking my case, Mr. Bradford." Coleman shook his hand firmly. "I have no words to express how much this means to me."

Roman forced himself to smile at the man. "We'll be in touch."

Derrick walked Coleman to the door, and even though Roman kept his head low and pretended to read his notes, he was still able to see the heartfelt embrace the two men shared.

He took a deep breath and counted to ten, but soon realized not even counting to a million would help relieve the pressure in his chest.

Roman waited quietly while the men talked in muted tones, but the moment Tyler Coleman left the conference room, he stormed toward the door and got in Derrick's face.

"You're off the case," he snarled.

"What?" Apparently Derrick didn't have any sense of self-preservation because, instead of backing off, he got even closer to Roman's face. "Why?"

"You lied to me." Roman ignored Derrick's heady body scent and the feel of his warm breath on his lips. "You lied right to my face."

Derrick's eyes flickered, but he didn't look away. "Lied about what?"

"Your involvement with
him
." Roman pointed down the hall in which Coleman had disappeared less than thirty seconds ago. "I asked you yesterday if—"

"I never said I wasn't involved," Derrick interrupted him. "I mean, we aren't. We're just friends. But technically I didn't lie to you. I never answered one way or the other."
 

"You lied by omission, then," Roman grunted. The need to wring Derrick's neck was damn near choking him.

Derrick lowered his eyes and bit his lower lip. "I thought it'd be in my best interest to plead the Fifth at the time."

"You thought wrong," Roman assured him. "It wasn't."

Derrick ran his fingers through his brown tousled hair and released his breath in a rush. "He's just a friend," he said, still not looking at him.

Roman scoffed at Derrick's answer, and took several steps away from the man who had him feeling completely off balance. "You're still off the case."

Derrick grabbed his arm. "Roman, wait."

Roman stared at the long, tanned fingers wrapped around his navy blue sleeve. The material of his suit jacket and the shirt underneath weren't thick enough. They did nothing to shield Roman's skin from the heat coming off of fingers he would've killed to be able to feel all over him.

The injustice of his situation made him see red all over again.

He thought he was done with the frustration. He thought the weeks he'd spent cursing everything under the sun and indulging in some serious self-pity had been cathartic enough. He thought he'd purged all those needs that he knew he'd never be able to fulfill. Yet here he was; feeling ten times the rage he'd experienced when he first realized he'd never be able to be with Derrick, all because he'd witnessed how very close the guy was to another man.
 

"There's nothing to discuss, Mr. Swain."

He yanked his arm from Derrick's grip and stepped away. He needed to leave the conference room before he did something stupid that he'd no doubt regret for the rest of his life.

Like kissing Derrick… like begging him to let Roman suck him off… like forgetting what Derrick had said a year ago.
 

Roman released his breath and collected the case file and his notepad. He could almost
feel
Derrick's eyes burning holes through his back, but thankfully he didn't move from his place by the door.

Roman glanced at him briefly over his shoulder. Derrick's cheeks were flushed, and his hands were fisted inside his pockets. Roman didn't let the other man's obvious frustration divert him from his purpose.
 

"Do you think there's anything else Mr. Coleman could've forgotten to mention?"

Roman glanced over his shoulder again when he didn't get an answer. Derrick's hands inside his pockets were causing the fabric of his black pants to stretch over his groin. Roman's mouth watered.

Want!

Roman broke out in a sweat. His hands started shaking. He was breathing so hard his damn glasses were fogging, all because he couldn't stop thinking about freeing Derrick's cock and worshipping the spunk out of it.
 

This was madness.
 

Not even when he was younger had Roman fallen prey to sexual desire of such magnitude.

"Don't do this to me." Derrick's throaty plea pushed Roman farther down a slippery slope of hunger and lust.
 

"I can't have you on the case."

"I'm not talking about the damn case right now," Derrick snapped. "You can't look at me that way and expect me to do nothing about it, Roman. It isn't fair."
 

Roman licked his lips and tore his eyes away from the tempting bulge between Derrick's legs.
Cut and run while you can, Roman
, he thought.
You know you won't be able to control yourself if he walks one step closer.

"Do you think there's anything else Mr. Coleman could've forgotten to mention, yes or no?" he repeated his original question.
 

"Not that I can remember," Derrick grunted.

"Then you're relieved as counsel from the Coleman case, Mr. Swain." After taking a deep breath, he walked to the door and glared at Derrick. The other man looked like he couldn't decide between punching Roman or kissing him stupid, but he moved out of the way.

"Please, don't be hasty about this," Derrick implored softly.

"Effective immediately," Roman said quietly as he escaped to the safety of his office.

Chapter Seven

"…I mean, I don't know what I'm doing here, Steph. What am I doing? This is all a lie."

"No, honey…It's more like a dream, you know? And for one night, you're living it for all of us. Don't think about tomorrow. Don't think about anything but tonight. Tonight the maid is all a lie. And this, this is who you really are."

Derrick put a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth, licking it absently as he watched housekeeper-turned-princess Marisa leave in a stretch limo to meet Chris Marshall. It was one of his favorite scenes from
Maid in Manhattan
.

There were two things he did whenever he was in a gloomy mood: he either watched romantic movies, or he pigged out on a pint of Rocky Road. Doing both at the same time was strictly reserved for the days when he felt the universe had a personal vendetta against him, and the remedy never failed to cheer him up.

Not tonight, though.

His conversation with Roman following their meeting with Tyler had left him unbelievably upset. He'd only managed to call back a few clients, catch up on his email, and draft four motions to modify child custody before he had to call it a day.

He'd left the office a little after two, claiming a migraine, and forbidding Casey from ratting him out to Tashana. He didn't want to worry her, but, more than anything else, he didn't want to suffer through her demands for an explanation. She'd know something was up if she saw his face or heard his voice, and Derrick wasn't in the mood to listen to dozens of questions or to accept unsolicited advice. He wasn't prepared to say anything about the matter at all.
 

He loved Tashana, but he needed to be left alone.

He had to think things through and figure out his next move.
 

The moment he got home from work, he changed into his favorite sleep pants and t-shirt, and flopped on the couch for a much-needed session of cinema therapy.

He'd started with
Beauty and the Beast
. It was his absolutely favorite Disney movie, and he'd known he needed the big guns after getting dismissed by Roman. But watching Belle and the prince dance in the ballroom after Beast came back to life and was restored to human form hadn't snapped Derrick out of his funk. He was as distraught, if not more, as he'd been when the movie started, so he'd moved onto his second favorite.

To Derrick's dismay, he got the same results watching
10 Things I Hate About You
.

Heath Ledger was one of the prettiest men no longer on Earth, but seeing him flash his megawatt smile hadn't stopped Derrick from wanting to pull his hair and howl in frustration. That's when he decided his cinema therapy session could use some reinforcement. He'd dragged his feet to the kitchen and broken out the Häagen Dazs.

Maid in Manhattan
was his third film of the night, and even though he'd eaten half a pint of ice cream and felt fat, his frame of mind had yet to improve.

Watching movies was supposed to lighten his spirit. To reaffirm his belief that love conquered all, and remind him than nothing worthy comes easy. As it turned out, there was nothing worthier in Derrick's eyes than Roman Bradford. But instead of getting over the most recent delay of his pursuit of happiness, the only thing he'd accomplished was to make his stomach hurt as much as his heart. Derrick had been too distracted by his quandary for the movie marathon to do its job, and he only had Roman Bradford's contradictory behavior to thank for that.

He dipped the spoon in the ice cream and placed the pint on the coffee table, then lay down on the couch and buried his face in Lumière's yellow coat.

"Meoooow…"

Derrick scratched his tabby's belly, grateful that Lumière was cheerful and affectionate. He could be stubborn at times, and God knew he'd shredded his fair share of curtains in the past seven years, but he was a perfect companion for the most part. He liked being cuddled, and the truth was, Derrick needed his warmth. He felt lonely. Tonight more than ever he needed his cat's unconditional love.