This Love Hurts (This Love Hurts 1)

“What happened two days ago didn’t come out of my mouth.” Jill earns another dart thrown at her in my imaginary poster of her on the wall in my head. “That was a reporter trying to stay relevant.”

“Well, this morning, ‘rot in hell’ certainly came out of yours.”

“I apologize,” I say and my sincerity is there when I meet her gaze, refusing to break it even though I’m burning up inside.

“Is it because of what was said? Is it because Jill said you’re becoming infamous for serial murder cases going cold? Is that why you had to give your two cents this morning about Ross Brass?”

“You and I both know he did it.” As I speak, the emotion that creeps into my voice, cracking it, is something I didn’t count on. I know Claire hired me over seasoned lawyers well worth their weight because I’m hard; I keep my emotions in check. That’s what she said. I have a hard edge and the emotion rarely gets to me. It’s evidence and precedence and getting to the point.

Emotion is a weakness to be exploited and preyed upon in this business. I don’t know if it’s my family issues or the case from five years ago, but today is hard. I’m struggling to remain unaffected.

“He played a part in four girls dying and he got off on a technicality.” I answer her as best I can without letting my voice crack again. It would be easy if all of this really was as simple as dogs and hydrants, but that’s not the world I live in. I chose a career with higher stakes and things that truly matter to me.

Sympathy isn’t something I anticipated. So when Claire’s gaze softens and she takes a seat in the leather wingback across from me, I’m truly surprised.

“Of course he did. But when the evidence is tainted while it’s in police custody…” she trails off then inhales slowly and shakes her head, shifting her curly auburn hair around her shoulders. With her hands thrown up in defeat, she adds, “It’s on the PD for the way they handled the evidence. Not on us.”

Leaning forward, I look my boss in the eye and remind her who she hired and who I am. “It’s bullshit that they mishandled evidence and now Brass gets to walk.” Taking in a deep breath, I make it known that I have more to say. “He does deserve to rot in hell, but I never should have said that to anyone other than you and our partners. I am sorry,” I add emphasis to the last statement, my voice firm and then sit back in my seat. “I shouldn’t have said it. Now I know why you say you don’t talk to press after six p.m.”

“If you aren’t on point . . .” she begins and I finish her line for her, “. . . then don’t say shit.”

Claire’s an early riser and gets into the office before everyone else. Claire practically lives at work and handles the press above everyone else, unless it’s past 6:00. That’s her cutoff. Now I know my limit: No coffee, no talking.

“I think my new rule should be no press before coffee.” My muttered statement as I run my hand along the back of my neck forces a small laugh from Claire. If it can even be called a laugh since the sound is just a tad longer than a huff. Her smile lasts though, thank God.

“Are you pulling me off my cases?” I ask her and she shakes her head.

“No, but I will be giving you the cold shoulder in front of Tanner and Shaw. I can’t let them think you got off easy.” They’re new to the prosecution team. Shaw used to handle defense and Tanner is fresh out of law school.

“I was serious when I asked you if Jill bringing up that case got to you,” Claire states although it’s meant to be a question.

Eating up time by hiding behind a sip of coffee, I deny the stomach drop and the pounding in my veins. “I’m fine,” I answer her and then give her a tight smile followed by a distraction. “My mother called this morning, I got a ticket, and I smashed my hand in the door.” Holding up my hand as evidence, Claire winces.

“All before coffee?”

With a nod and a click of my tongue, I answer, “Without a single sip.”

Within half an hour, she’s out the door, my coffee is gone and all of it goes to the back of my mind as I force myself to actually get work done and make today productive at the very least.

Time slips by as I catch up on a case that goes to trial next week. I’ll be looking over Tanner’s shoulder and he’ll be pissed because of it, but it should be an open-and-shut case. The evidence is damning. It would take one hell of a defense or one hell of a fuckup for Tanner to lose this one.