The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (popular books to read .TXT) 📗

The SUV was already parked on the curb, and the driver scrambled out to open the two passenger doors. He smiled at the boss and then looked behind the two men for Camilo. When he didn’t see him, he gave me a look that was laced with pity, and my stomach clenched in response.

Osvaldo climbed into the front passenger seat while Alvaro slid into the back passenger seat and then scooted so he was behind the driver’s seat. The tall man patted the open seat next to him in welcome, and I seriously considered whether I could tell him no. But I would not cower when I had done absolutely nothing wrong.

The driver shut the door behind me and then circled the car to climb into his own seat, though he didn’t pull away from the curb. He sat with his eyes forward and his hands in his lap as he waited for his next orders.

“I’m disappointed,” the boss said after the silence had grown so uncomfortable that I had begun to think Alvaro would slice my neck open right in front of the courthouse.

The cartel man twisted in the front passenger seat so that he could look at me. The light from the front windshield cast shadows over his face, and the twisting scar on his right cheek began to remind me of a writhing snake.

“That is not how that should’ve gone,” I said.

“You came so highly recommended,” Osvaldo said with a shake of his head. “I’d heard you were good. But this is all that you can do? Three years in a juvenile detention center?”

The air inside the SUV was thick and foreboding as I looked between my muscular boss and his giant second in command, a man I was still sure had a garrote on his person in case he needed it. My stomach did another flop as I tried to remain calm, though I felt the vein in my neck twitch as I imagined what it would feel like as the piano wire wrapped around my neck.

My pulse raced and sweat dripped down my back at the unspoken promise of violence that lingered in the air around me. For the first time in my life, I wondered if maybe I shouldn’t have put family first.

“I’ve never had a judge sentence such a young offender to such a long time in a detention center,” I shook my head and tried not to let the pounding of my heart in my ears distract me. “He didn’t even listen to the prosecutor’s recommendations or give us an opportunity to speak. Hell, he barely even glanced at the files. It shouldn’t have happened this way.”

“And yet, it did,” the scarred man said in a voice so low that I almost didn’t hear him.

Alvaro shifted in his seat beside me, and I glanced over at him to make sure that he hadn’t pulled out a weapon. He hadn’t had one when he passed through the metal detector, but I had no doubt that he had one stashed somewhere in the car.

“I’m going to file appeals,” I reassured Osvaldo as I looked back toward the boss. “Camilo will not spend long in that place. The judge’s decision was wrong, and I’m going to fix it.”

Another silence fell inside the SUV as the Cuban cartel man pondered my future. His scowl was scarier than I’d ever seen it, though his son had just been sentenced to three years in a juvenile center despite my promises.

“I’m going to give you a chance to fix this,” the angry father said after he took a deep breath in. “I shouldn’t have to tell you the consequences for disappointing me again.”

“I won’t,” I said as plans for appeals began to form in my mind.

“Get out, before I change my mind,” he whispered.

Chapter 8

I had barely shut the car door behind me when Osvaldo’s SUV peeled away from the curb. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves as I wiped the sweat on my free hand onto my charcoal suit pants. I gripped my briefcase a little tighter as I steadied myself, and then began the long walk back to where I had left my car.

The beat up blue Honda was a few blocks away from the courthouse. It was closer to the restaurant where Stephen and I had eaten breakfast, so by the time I reached the car I was covered in sweat that wasn’t entirely from the oppressive Florida heat.

I couldn’t believe the judge’s verdict had been so harsh. Neither of the boys had a long rap sheet, and none of their prior offenses had been violent. Camilo had mostly been picked up for curfew violations or loitering after hours at basketball courts with his friends, and the same was true of his friend.

The old magistrate had been out of line to send my client to a juvenile detention center, especially for three years when there had been no property damage. The car had been returned without so much as a scratch and only a few extra miles. Camilo had clearly known how to handle the luxury vehicle, and even the car’s owner had initially been reluctant to press charges once the car had been returned.

My car’s AC sputtered for a second before icy tendrils cut through the suffocating air that clung to my skin. The engine purred as I merged into traffic and began to weave through the cars on the way back to my apartment so I could start the paperwork for the appeal.

I arrived in record time and parked in my usual parking spot before I trotted into my apartment building. The elevator was open, but I took the stairs so that I could work off a little of the leftover anxious energy from Osvaldo’s unspoken threat against my life.

Light peeked