blocking the sight line.
Isaac stared over Heron‟s heavy shoulder, right into the face of the man who‟d been sent to kill him. “Yeah. I am.”
59
CHAPTER 10
I t was past ten o‟clock when Grier parked her Audi out in Malden and cut the engine. She‟d manuevered the sedan around on the packed dirt so that it was facing out and was away from most of the other cars—although it wasn‟t as if the “parking lot” had any dedicated exit or entrance or spaces.
As she‟d driven by the address Louie had given her over the phone, she hadn‟t been sure she was in the right place. The office park had been empty as far as she could tell, the dozen or so matching five-stories spiraling off from an unlit main drive like schoolchildren lined up for a head count. Evidently, the development had been intended for high-tech companies, at least according to the sign that read, MALDEN TECHNOLOGICAL PARK. Instead, it was a ghost town.
Louie never steered her wrong, though, so she‟d turned in and gone all the way to the back…and found about twenty-five trucks and cars behind the building farthest from the main road. Made sense. If she were trespassing to put on an illegal cage fight, she‟d have made sure she was as hidden as possible, too.
Getting out of her car, she went over to the fire door that was propped open by a cinder block, and walked in. The deep, buzzing growl of a crowd of men boiled down the hallway, the testosterone forming a wall she practically had to push through. As she headed toward the sound, she wasn‟t worried about the meathead quotient—which was clearly going to be high. She had Mace in one pocket and a stun gun in the other: The former was legal in the state of Massachusetts if you had a valid firearm identification card and she did. The latter…well, she‟d pay the five-hundred-dollar fine, assuming she ever had to use the thing.
If she could walk into a crack house in New Bedford at midnight, she could handle this.
As she emerged into an atrium of sorts and got a gander at the six-foot-high, chain-link walls of the fighting octagon, she was well aware she could have just called the cops on the match tonight—but then Isaac, assuming he showed up, would either be arrested again or take off. And in either of those cases, she might not have a chance to get to him. Her goal was to have him stop and think long enough to see what he was doing. Running away was never the solution, and if he went that route, he‟d have a warrant out for his arrest, more charges against him, and the beginnings of a record.
Assuming he didn‟t already have one: That murder in Mississippi worried her—but it was, like all of his other stuff, something for the proper authorities to deal with. As his defense attorney, she had to try to get him to stay and face the music on his current charges. It was the right thing for society—the right thing for him as well.
And if she couldn‟t get him to see the light? Then she was going to resign from the case and tell the authorities everything she knew about him. Including the guns and the details of that security system. She wasn‟t going to become an accessory to crime in her pursuit of doing the 60
Crave
right thing—
She froze as she saw her client, her hand coming up to the base of her throat.
Isaac Rothe was standing alone in the far corner, and though the chain links of the cage separated them, there was no mistaking who it was…and no diminishing the effect of him: He was a menace, his size and the hard expression on his face turning the other men into little boys.
And whereas she‟d been struck by his politeness back at the jail, now she got a true picture of who he was.
The man was a killer.
Her heart beat fast, but she didn‟t falter. She was here to do a job of sorts, and damn it, she was going to talk with him.
Just as she stepped forward, some smarmy guy with gold teeth monkeyed up one side of the cage. “And now…what you‟re waitin‟
Isaac stared over Heron‟s heavy shoulder, right into the face of the man who‟d been sent to kill him. “Yeah. I am.”
59
CHAPTER 10
I t was past ten o‟clock when Grier parked her Audi out in Malden and cut the engine. She‟d manuevered the sedan around on the packed dirt so that it was facing out and was away from most of the other cars—although it wasn‟t as if the “parking lot” had any dedicated exit or entrance or spaces.
As she‟d driven by the address Louie had given her over the phone, she hadn‟t been sure she was in the right place. The office park had been empty as far as she could tell, the dozen or so matching five-stories spiraling off from an unlit main drive like schoolchildren lined up for a head count. Evidently, the development had been intended for high-tech companies, at least according to the sign that read, MALDEN TECHNOLOGICAL PARK. Instead, it was a ghost town.
Louie never steered her wrong, though, so she‟d turned in and gone all the way to the back…and found about twenty-five trucks and cars behind the building farthest from the main road. Made sense. If she were trespassing to put on an illegal cage fight, she‟d have made sure she was as hidden as possible, too.
Getting out of her car, she went over to the fire door that was propped open by a cinder block, and walked in. The deep, buzzing growl of a crowd of men boiled down the hallway, the testosterone forming a wall she practically had to push through. As she headed toward the sound, she wasn‟t worried about the meathead quotient—which was clearly going to be high. She had Mace in one pocket and a stun gun in the other: The former was legal in the state of Massachusetts if you had a valid firearm identification card and she did. The latter…well, she‟d pay the five-hundred-dollar fine, assuming she ever had to use the thing.
If she could walk into a crack house in New Bedford at midnight, she could handle this.
As she emerged into an atrium of sorts and got a gander at the six-foot-high, chain-link walls of the fighting octagon, she was well aware she could have just called the cops on the match tonight—but then Isaac, assuming he showed up, would either be arrested again or take off. And in either of those cases, she might not have a chance to get to him. Her goal was to have him stop and think long enough to see what he was doing. Running away was never the solution, and if he went that route, he‟d have a warrant out for his arrest, more charges against him, and the beginnings of a record.
Assuming he didn‟t already have one: That murder in Mississippi worried her—but it was, like all of his other stuff, something for the proper authorities to deal with. As his defense attorney, she had to try to get him to stay and face the music on his current charges. It was the right thing for society—the right thing for him as well.
And if she couldn‟t get him to see the light? Then she was going to resign from the case and tell the authorities everything she knew about him. Including the guns and the details of that security system. She wasn‟t going to become an accessory to crime in her pursuit of doing the 60
Crave
right thing—
She froze as she saw her client, her hand coming up to the base of her throat.
Isaac Rothe was standing alone in the far corner, and though the chain links of the cage separated them, there was no mistaking who it was…and no diminishing the effect of him: He was a menace, his size and the hard expression on his face turning the other men into little boys.
And whereas she‟d been struck by his politeness back at the jail, now she got a true picture of who he was.
The man was a killer.
Her heart beat fast, but she didn‟t falter. She was here to do a job of sorts, and damn it, she was going to talk with him.
Just as she stepped forward, some smarmy guy with gold teeth monkeyed up one side of the cage. “And now…what you‟re waitin‟
Similar Books
