Page 75 of Velvet Corruption

What if I burn it all down?

Chapter Sixteen: Ruby

The more things changed…the more they stayed completely, royally fucked.

Rosie was with Julian and I had to go to court.

Whether my hand hurt or not, whether my best friend hated me or not, whether Kieran Callahan was in my life or not, I had to get up and go to work.

Judge O’Hara’s chambers smelled like overbrewed coffee and fresh legal pads, the combo making my stomach roil. I flexed my fingers, fighting the dull throb that had settled in my hand since yesterday, trying to hide the gauze that my hand was still covered in. The painkillers hadn’t kicked in yet—not fully, anyway—but I refused to let Nathaniel Klein see even a flicker of discomfort.

Across from me, Klein lounged in his chair, and he checked his reflection on the window, looking at me over the rims of his designer glasses like he had all the time in the world.

I didn’t trust people who wore non-prescription glasses indoors.

I didn’t trust Klein.

“Tough break, Marquez,” Klein said, smirking at my hand. “What happened? You piss off the wrong person?”

I flicked my eyes up, unimpressed. “Yeah, Nate. I got in a fight with an inanimate object.” I leaned back in my chair, masking my pain behind my best ‘go fuck yourself’ face. “And it still put up a better defense than you.”

Beside me, Alek didn’t look up from his notes, but I could feel him watching. He was second chair on the case, technically my backup, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to call me out.

“I know you’re not a hundred percent,” he murmured, just low enough for me to hear. “Stop pushing yourself.”

“Not pushing.” I flipped another page. “Thriving.”

Alek scoffed. Klein just grinned.

“Listen, let’s not waste time,” Klein said. “My client is willing to take three years.”

I raised an eyebrow. “For a Class B trafficking charge?” I didn’t even bother laughing. “Try ten.”

Klein pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Come on, guys. First offense.”

“Your Honor, let me walk you through the Commonwealth’s evidence.”

O’Hara nodded. I ticked each item off on my fingers: “A Title III wiretap placing DeLuca in a conspiracy discussion regarding a shipment. Physical surveillance placing him at Black Falcon Terminal, South Boston, on the night of the 16th. A recorded conversation referencing ‘moving weight before the heat comes down.’ And a ledger seized by U.S. Customs with DeLuca’s name next to a transaction for sixty grand.”

Klein looked at me for a long few seconds. “Hold on—what ledger?”

“The one with your client’s name next to a transaction for sixty grand.”

Klein tutted. “Nice move, Marquez. The ledger was not included in discovery.”

O’Hara sighed and looked at me. “You know better, counselor.”

“The Commonwealth isn’t relying on the ledger for this case.”

O’Hara pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then why are we talking about this?”

I swallowed, my heart beating fast in my chest. “Just thought Klein should know we have it.”

Klein’s jaw hardened. Judge O’Hara didn’t look impressed. “If you’re not using it, don’t waste my time with it. Are we done here?”

“Your Honor, I have the defendant on a wiretap talking about ‘the shipment.’”

Klein leaned back, playing unimpressed. “What shipment?”