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Authors: Shiloh Walker
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teacher for one of the courses I took in law school.
She had a job at a local law firm, taught for a semester while I was still in school.
I was crazy about her. The feeling was mutual, but that’s a good way to get your ass
in trouble. For both of us. Rochelle wasn’t having any part of it, not that I didn’t
try. She had busted her ass to get where she was and she wasn’t going to let some
slick-talking boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth screw things up for her.”
He shrugged and reached up, rubbing his neck. “Once I was out of school, I didn’t
see her for a while. Then I ran into her one night after I’d passed the bar. I was
working my ass off for this slick defense attorney in Lexington. He had his hands
in almost every big case that went through that city—remember the basketball player
accused of paying for his girlfriend’s murder? He had that one.”
He caught the sneer on Jensen’s face and sighed. “I’m not the man I was then. I had
my eye on one thing, making a name for myself. Getting a partnership, maybe opening
up my own firm at some point. You want to make a name for yourself, you take cases
like that. And … even the very guilty are entitled to a defense.” He ran his tongue
around his teeth, thinking about how many of the very guilty he’d helped keep out
of jail. “Rochelle and I started dating. We figured out pretty fast that what we had
was heat. Nothing else. But it was pretty damn hot. Then she ended up pregnant. The
baby…”
Even now, he could remember that amazing feeling, the way love and awe had rolled
through him as the doctor placed the baby in his hands the very first time. “She was
everything to us. We didn’t love each other, but we adored her. Shared custody, went
to every doctor appointment together, picked out the school together. Everything.”
He lapsed into silence as other memories stirred.
A hand reached out and covered his.
Looking up, he saw Jensen staring at him.
“What happened?”
His voice rusty, he said, “Rochelle … she…” He blew out a breath and looked past her.
“She grew up in a rough area. She got out. Her brother didn’t. He started showing
up, looking for money. She didn’t give it to him. He was pretty damn desperate, had
all sorts of trouble chasing him. Then it found him. Had a couple of dealers, they
tracked him down—drive-by shooting. He lived. Rochelle and Amaya didn’t.”
“My God.”
“Yeah.” He rose and walked over to the entertainment center, taking the picture of
his little girl down. “I knew one of the motherfuckers. Rich-ass bastard. Made his
money selling drugs to teenagers, but the cops kept fucking up because they were so
determined to take him down. It was easy to get him off, like taking candy from a
baby. I was one of the lawyers who helped get him off. I helped put him back on the
street … and he killed my little girl.”
When she came up behind him, he didn’t move.
As her arms came around him, he didn’t move.
He just stood there, staring at Amaya’s innocent, precious face.
After a minute, he said, “I went home after her funeral and sat in my room. I knew
all about how to get a gun. I didn’t own one—still don’t, but I know more about getting
my hands on a weapon than most people. Except a cop or drug dealer probably. I kept
thinking about how easy it would be for me to just go kill him. I knew where he hung
out. I knew where he lived. I already knew how easy it would be for me to get off
with killing him. He had killed my daughter … the mother of my child. Two innocent
people, gunned down. There were witnesses—not that they’d ever testify, but they had
told me what they saw. I knew how to talk to people.”
He put Amaya’s picture down.
Jensen ran her hand up his arm. He felt the light brush of her mouth against his arm.
“That’s not the man you are.”
“That’s the man I was that
She had a job at a local law firm, taught for a semester while I was still in school.
I was crazy about her. The feeling was mutual, but that’s a good way to get your ass
in trouble. For both of us. Rochelle wasn’t having any part of it, not that I didn’t
try. She had busted her ass to get where she was and she wasn’t going to let some
slick-talking boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth screw things up for her.”
He shrugged and reached up, rubbing his neck. “Once I was out of school, I didn’t
see her for a while. Then I ran into her one night after I’d passed the bar. I was
working my ass off for this slick defense attorney in Lexington. He had his hands
in almost every big case that went through that city—remember the basketball player
accused of paying for his girlfriend’s murder? He had that one.”
He caught the sneer on Jensen’s face and sighed. “I’m not the man I was then. I had
my eye on one thing, making a name for myself. Getting a partnership, maybe opening
up my own firm at some point. You want to make a name for yourself, you take cases
like that. And … even the very guilty are entitled to a defense.” He ran his tongue
around his teeth, thinking about how many of the very guilty he’d helped keep out
of jail. “Rochelle and I started dating. We figured out pretty fast that what we had
was heat. Nothing else. But it was pretty damn hot. Then she ended up pregnant. The
baby…”
Even now, he could remember that amazing feeling, the way love and awe had rolled
through him as the doctor placed the baby in his hands the very first time. “She was
everything to us. We didn’t love each other, but we adored her. Shared custody, went
to every doctor appointment together, picked out the school together. Everything.”
He lapsed into silence as other memories stirred.
A hand reached out and covered his.
Looking up, he saw Jensen staring at him.
“What happened?”
His voice rusty, he said, “Rochelle … she…” He blew out a breath and looked past her.
“She grew up in a rough area. She got out. Her brother didn’t. He started showing
up, looking for money. She didn’t give it to him. He was pretty damn desperate, had
all sorts of trouble chasing him. Then it found him. Had a couple of dealers, they
tracked him down—drive-by shooting. He lived. Rochelle and Amaya didn’t.”
“My God.”
“Yeah.” He rose and walked over to the entertainment center, taking the picture of
his little girl down. “I knew one of the motherfuckers. Rich-ass bastard. Made his
money selling drugs to teenagers, but the cops kept fucking up because they were so
determined to take him down. It was easy to get him off, like taking candy from a
baby. I was one of the lawyers who helped get him off. I helped put him back on the
street … and he killed my little girl.”
When she came up behind him, he didn’t move.
As her arms came around him, he didn’t move.
He just stood there, staring at Amaya’s innocent, precious face.
After a minute, he said, “I went home after her funeral and sat in my room. I knew
all about how to get a gun. I didn’t own one—still don’t, but I know more about getting
my hands on a weapon than most people. Except a cop or drug dealer probably. I kept
thinking about how easy it would be for me to just go kill him. I knew where he hung
out. I knew where he lived. I already knew how easy it would be for me to get off
with killing him. He had killed my daughter … the mother of my child. Two innocent
people, gunned down. There were witnesses—not that they’d ever testify, but they had
told me what they saw. I knew how to talk to people.”
He put Amaya’s picture down.
Jensen ran her hand up his arm. He felt the light brush of her mouth against his arm.
“That’s not the man you are.”
“That’s the man I was that
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