Read Online More Than Lust (Courthouse Connections Book 1) by Ann Jacobs - Free Book Online
Authors: Ann Jacobs
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uncle’s feeling that criminal defense was the redheaded stepchild of the firm.
The primary defendant, a Venezuelan national who spoke no English and was in the United States illegally, reminded Gray of several acquaintances he’d cultivated during undercover assignments with the DEA. He had no sympathy for the man but wasn’t the least bit surprised that he’d managed to retain a defense lawyer—a Latino solo practitioner reputed to have Mafia ties. The man’s extensive practice included clients similar to the present defendant. These scumbags provided smaller dealers with their merchandise and took the fall for the big drug lords, who paid their legal fees in return for keeping their own names clean. Gray had more experience dealing with these guys than he’d ever dreamed of before joining the DEA.
The dealer who’d bought into the sting was small potatoes, a user with a long rap sheet who’d done three terms in Florida prisons. Crack cocaine was his poison of choice, although he allegedly dealt whatever poisons he could find that his customers—mainly university students—wanted. Gray had no sympathy for this guy who apparently smoked up his ill-gotten gains since he’d pled poverty and had a public defender trying to get him a light sentence by having him render “substantial assistance” to the undercover narcotics cops.
Gray found himself paying special attention to the information about the kids who’d been caught up with their dealer and the dealer’s supplier. They should have known better than to mess around with hard drugs. They should have stuck with booze and pot for fun, the way Gray and his buddies had as undergraduates and even occasionally as law school students when they needed to let down their hair.
Still, he couldn’t see how they deserved to be charged with trafficking cocaine for the very minor roles they’d played. As though he were the one planning to defend these unfortunate young men, Gray picked up his pen and drafted an opening statement that included every piece of exculpatory evidence he could come up with on short notice.
While he was on his laptop, seeking out case law that might justify negating Florida statutes in the case of the kids who’d drawn his sympathy, Andi stepped up next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good morning. I see you’re an early riser. Sorry I slept so late, but you gave me quite a workout last night. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Is there any more of that coffee?”
Gray got up and pulled her into his arms. “The pot’s in the kitchen. I was just about to go and grab a couple of the cannoli that we brought home last night.” Bending, he took her mouth and used his tongue to trace the seam between her incredibly sexy lips. When she closed the distance between their bodies, he felt himself getting hard against her soft, flat belly.
She had a way of turning him on faster than any woman in his memory—except, just maybe, when he’d been a horny teenager who had probably spent more time with an erection than without.
● ● ●
By the time they finished off the cannoli and had a second cup of coffee, Gray had impressed Andi with the depth of his insight about her upcoming trial.
“You really should think about making full use of your law degree because you’d make a fine defense attorney,” she commented as they strolled along the seaweed-littered shoreline looking for unusual shells, their buckets in hand. “You’ve got me convinced that at least two of my defendants don’t belong in prison, even though it’s my job to see that prison is where they end up.”
Gray laughed. “Funny. While you were snoozing and I was prepping to play devil’s advocate for you, the same thought crossed my mind. Somehow my reasons for choosing the DEA over going to work for Winston-Roe seem less important now than they did when I made my initial choice. I’m thinking that if I argued well enough, I could get myself
The primary defendant, a Venezuelan national who spoke no English and was in the United States illegally, reminded Gray of several acquaintances he’d cultivated during undercover assignments with the DEA. He had no sympathy for the man but wasn’t the least bit surprised that he’d managed to retain a defense lawyer—a Latino solo practitioner reputed to have Mafia ties. The man’s extensive practice included clients similar to the present defendant. These scumbags provided smaller dealers with their merchandise and took the fall for the big drug lords, who paid their legal fees in return for keeping their own names clean. Gray had more experience dealing with these guys than he’d ever dreamed of before joining the DEA.
The dealer who’d bought into the sting was small potatoes, a user with a long rap sheet who’d done three terms in Florida prisons. Crack cocaine was his poison of choice, although he allegedly dealt whatever poisons he could find that his customers—mainly university students—wanted. Gray had no sympathy for this guy who apparently smoked up his ill-gotten gains since he’d pled poverty and had a public defender trying to get him a light sentence by having him render “substantial assistance” to the undercover narcotics cops.
Gray found himself paying special attention to the information about the kids who’d been caught up with their dealer and the dealer’s supplier. They should have known better than to mess around with hard drugs. They should have stuck with booze and pot for fun, the way Gray and his buddies had as undergraduates and even occasionally as law school students when they needed to let down their hair.
Still, he couldn’t see how they deserved to be charged with trafficking cocaine for the very minor roles they’d played. As though he were the one planning to defend these unfortunate young men, Gray picked up his pen and drafted an opening statement that included every piece of exculpatory evidence he could come up with on short notice.
While he was on his laptop, seeking out case law that might justify negating Florida statutes in the case of the kids who’d drawn his sympathy, Andi stepped up next to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Good morning. I see you’re an early riser. Sorry I slept so late, but you gave me quite a workout last night. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. Is there any more of that coffee?”
Gray got up and pulled her into his arms. “The pot’s in the kitchen. I was just about to go and grab a couple of the cannoli that we brought home last night.” Bending, he took her mouth and used his tongue to trace the seam between her incredibly sexy lips. When she closed the distance between their bodies, he felt himself getting hard against her soft, flat belly.
She had a way of turning him on faster than any woman in his memory—except, just maybe, when he’d been a horny teenager who had probably spent more time with an erection than without.
● ● ●
By the time they finished off the cannoli and had a second cup of coffee, Gray had impressed Andi with the depth of his insight about her upcoming trial.
“You really should think about making full use of your law degree because you’d make a fine defense attorney,” she commented as they strolled along the seaweed-littered shoreline looking for unusual shells, their buckets in hand. “You’ve got me convinced that at least two of my defendants don’t belong in prison, even though it’s my job to see that prison is where they end up.”
Gray laughed. “Funny. While you were snoozing and I was prepping to play devil’s advocate for you, the same thought crossed my mind. Somehow my reasons for choosing the DEA over going to work for Winston-Roe seem less important now than they did when I made my initial choice. I’m thinking that if I argued well enough, I could get myself
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