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Authors: Melissa F. Miller

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She held up a hand.

No, we don

t. We have a signed representation agreement. I

m going to invoice you monthly, but just hold the bills. If

when

we win, we

ll ask the Court to make Mid-Atlantic cover my fees, and they

ll have to do so. Don

t spend even a second worrying about that.

Pete opened his mouth to argue, but she shot him a look that said

don

t you dare.

He closed his mouth.

Tamsin looked up from the pleading with a mischievous glint in her eye.

You know, we do have some beans lying around the house. Not enough to fill any of our contracts, but more than we would use before they go stale
…”


Now you

re talking,

Sasha told her.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

One week later

 

 

Naya poked her head into Sasha

s office and rapped on the open door.


You busy?

She looked up and rubbed her eyes, blinking as she tried to focus on Naya

s face.


No. I think I need to get my vision checked, though. Everything

s blurry at a distance.

Naya held up the fingers of one hand and ticked off her points.

One, you spend entirely too much time staring at a computer screen. Your eyes need a break. Two, you

re getting older, it

s natural for eyesight to begin to fail as you approach middle-age
—“


I

m nowhere near middle aged!

Naya ignored her protest.

Three, the lighting in here is pathetic. Get some task lighting.


Is that all?


For now.


Is the reply in support of the motion to compel in the Steel City Roasters case filed?


Yeah, that

s what I was coming to tell you. Filed and served as of about an hour ago.


Thanks.


Sure thing. I filed under your ECF number, so the confirmations should be in your email.


Awesome.

She checked the time. It was just after three o

clock. Mid-afternoon.

The ability to file documents electronically in federal court was something of a double-edged sword. It had obviated the five o

clock race to the courthouse that Sasha remembered from her time as a law student and very junior associate, but she

d quickly learned that an attorney who failed to master the technology became a slave to it. She

d spent too many nights at Prescott & Talbott frantically trying to get documents loaded and filed at 11:59 p.m. She

d vowed when she

d gone out on her own that she

d avoid that situation at all costs. As her late mentor was fond of saying,

the work expands to take the time allotted to it.


So this case

insurance coverage, really?

Naya wrinkled her nose.


I know.


No, seriously.
Insurance coverage.


No, seriously,
I know.

The reality of what lie ahead of her was the stuff of nightmares. The obfuscating, delaying, and flat-out
lying
of lawyers tied to the insurance industry was legend. She was depressed just thinking about it.


They must be paying you in coffee.

They shared a dry laugh.


I wish. I mean, they kind of are. But not nearly enough.


Oh, but good news. Judge Partridge

s clerk called. His honor with the rocket docket already read the reply and the clerk was calling to let you know the court will not be setting argument on the motion to compel.


No way.


Way. That means he

s going to grant it, right?


Usually that

s what it would mean. And Partridge is pretty pro-plaintiff, so yeah, I

m going assume we’ll have an order granting us the discovery in the morning.

She sat up a little bit straighter and smiled, feeling rejuvenated.

That

s awesome.


Well, congratulations.


Let

s not get too excited until we see what Mid-Atlantic actually turns over. Insurance coverage, remember?

Naya shuddered in mock horror and tilted her head toward the hallway.

I better get back to it.


Me, too. I

m reading the galley proofs of the journal article Will and I wrote about the Bennett kids

witness protection case. I
’m sure he’
s going to send Caroline in here any minute to see when I

m going to finish

they

ve been on my desk all week.


Mmm-hmm. Don

t forget to call an ophthalmologist, Mac.

Naya disappeared into the hallway before she could get off a retort. She laughed to herself and turned back to the microscopic font favored by
The Journal of Legal Ethics.
She immediately stifled a yawn. Despite their best efforts, she and Will hadn

t been able to capture the heart-pounding fear that the Bennetts

situation had caused for all involved

including the attorneys. Apparently, even the specter of a psychopathic, murderous father couldn

t make irrevocable trusts and intended beneficiaries of third-party contracts an interesting read.

She tossed her pen on the desk and grabbed her purse. Seeing as how her afternoon coffee was out of the question, she needed a quick sparring session to jolt her back to wakefulness. Especially given that she and Connelly would be spending their evening babysitting the six Bennett kids.

She raced through the reception area, but she wasn

t quick enough to evade Caroline.


Sasha? May I ask where you

re going?

she called across the small space.


Oh, sure. I’
m heading to the studio to work out with Daniel. I

ll be back in an hour or so.

Caroline frowned ever-so-slightly and fiddled with her left earring.

Sasha plunged toward the stairs and called over her shoulder,

Let Will know I

ll have those proofs for him when I get back.

She heard the little mew of relief that escaped from the receptionist

s lips as she headed down the stairs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

Nino slouched against the hood of the glossy black Town Car and watched from a distance as Peaches and his buddies knocked their bocce balls in the general direction of the court. For as much time as they spent playing, they didn

t seem to be very good. But they certainly were committed. He blew into his cold hands. Although the wintry mix had stopped falling, it left a raw, wet day behind.

The phone in his right pocket vibrated. He frowned and squinted toward the game. They were nowhere near finished. It was probably safe to answer. Probably.

He dug out the phone and jabbed the button to answer.


What?


Can you talk?

Cashion asked.


Maybe.

He didn

t like it when she called him. But she didn

t seem to care what he liked. Arrogant

just like every other prosecutor he

d ever worked with. Wonder how she

d like it if she were living in constant danger and some suit risked
her
life just to get an update for a monthly status report for a file somewhere. The thought of Charlotte Cashion, with her honey-blond cloud of hair and ever-present pearl choker, going undercover as a member of a criminal enterprise almost made him laugh. Dirty work had to be done, but she certainly wasn

t going to mess up her manicure to make it happen.


Yes or no, agent?


Make it fast.

He kept one eye on Peaches while he readied his responses to her inevitable inventory of pointless questions.

Instead of launching into her question and answer routine, Cashion said,

We got some useable intelligence from that gathering the other night.


Oh?


Yes. We turned a dancer who has a quite hefty credit card debt. In exchange for a cash payment, she made sure she was performing in the private room where the meeting took place.

He smiled at the slightly appalled note in Cashion

s voice. He wasn

t sure which she found more offensive

that the girl took her clothes off for money or that she was in hock to MasterCard and Visa.


And?


And she reports that in addition to carving up the territory, the underbosses discussed some other interests

gaming, of course; drug running from West Virginia; and one item that wasn

t already on our radar.


What

s that?


It involved your guy in Atlanta.

He rolled his eyes. Only the Justice Department would think that using

your guy in Atlanta

as a code for

Peaches

would confuse anyone. Georgia. Peaches. Duh.


Did it?


It did indeed. He

s apparently been asked to find a torch for an upcoming assignment.

Nino sucked air between his teeth. He waited a beat.

Arson?


Evidently. You know anything about it?


No.


Well find out.

He switched off the phone and shoved it back in his pocket. Peaches had abandoned his ball and was stalking down the hill toward the car.

Crap.
He was going to get chewed out for not having the engine running and the car warmed and waiting.


Game over already?

he asked as he jogged around to jerk open the rear door on the driver

s side. Unlike most of the guys with drivers, Peaches sat directly behind him, despite the obstructed view. He figured it was in case his boss decided to shoot him in the head at a red light. Paranoid? Maybe. But that didn

t make it untrue.

Peaches scowled.

Intermission. Gotta drain the snake. Take me to Donna

s bakery on King.

Nino bobbed his head and slid behind the wheel. The engine purred to life. He checked his mirrors and eased the sedan out of the parking spot and into the street.


Who were you talking to?

Peaches said to the back of his head.

Nino

s throat tightened. He shifted his eyes up to the rearview mirror and met the old guy

s eyes. He reminded himself of his rule: All half-truths. No outright lies. It was the safest way to play it.


Friend of mine with an interest in one of the girl

s at Trixie

s.


Bah. Whores, the lot of them.

Nino nodded his agreement and exhaled.

After a moment of silence, Peaches spoke again.

Funny you should mention Trixie

s. I got a job for you.


Oh?


We

ll talk about it later. Now, get the lead out before I piss myself.

Nino accelerated, blowing through the stop sign. His pulse sped up and thrummed in his ear. Any jobs that came out of the meeting at the strip club were likely to involve the violation of more serious laws than failure to obey the motor vehicle code. The line he trod was already pretty blurry. He hoped he wasn

t going to have to seek Cashion

s blessing to commit a felony.

Behind him, Peaches said,

You
’re doing good, kid.

He blinked, unsure of how to respond, then he settled for a nod. They drove in silence the rest of the way to the bakery.

 

BOOK: Irrefutable Evidence
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ads

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