move. I need to get as far away as possible from anyone who knows me.
I just remembered that I had a safe house prepared in Atlanta. I’d been there a few times in the past for work. There was one apartment I rented, a small one-bedroom place where I had some weapons stored. Nothing fancy, and I could go there and blend in. If I was lucky, maybe no one would ever find me.
All right , I thought, I’m going to Atlanta.
Chapter 3 – Rose
My first case as a lawyer was a big one. Someone had just carried out a massacre of upcoming witnesses for a major trial against the Blood Brothers, a powerful biker gang. They were untouchable for years, and now the government had an opportunity to cut them down to size. This killing was a huge wrench in the works. Only one person, a girl, survived, and she was in no shape to help with the investigation. I was excited to prosecute this case, and now I couldn’t do that.
The story was nationwide news, and the pressure to find the criminal was extremely high. According to the FBI, whoever did this had been responsible for crimes committed in the past, but the killer had always been careful enough to avoid being caught. Anyone who was able to kill hundreds of people for money and hurt a child definitely had no soul. I wanted to solve this case and put this monster in prison.
We didn’t have much information to work with, and even after a few days, no new information became available. I drove home one night with Amber and Jessica preoccupied with the case and ruminating over the facts. Just as I was about to park in my reserved space, I saw a huge motorcycle taking up two spaces, including mine.
This was a pain in the ass. A man was dismounting. He looked like the sort of person afterschool specials warn kids about. His black hair was long and unruly, and stuck out in all directions. Tattoos of circles, demons, fire, and other creepy images covered his arms and neck, rippling with muscles. His clothes were caked with years of unwashed dirt, oil, and tar. Everything about him was bad news.
“Get out and walk back home,” I told to my kids without turning my head to them. “Lock yourselves in. I’m going to have a talk with this guy.”
The girls obeyed and left. I got out of my car and approached the stranger.
“Excuse me,” I attempted, trying to keep my voice level. I was going with the polite method first. If that didn’t work…I’d have to try something else.
He didn’t respond at all. He must have been ignoring me.
“Sir, excuse me. But you’re taking up two spaces. One of them belongs to me. I need to park my car here,” I tried again.
He faced me this time, and he was obviously not in the mood for conversation, judging by his face.
He scowled toward me.
“I don’t see your damn name on this space,” he gestured at the ground. “Find somewhere else to park. There’s plenty of place elsewhere.”
“I live here. We all have a reserved space. And this one,” I directed at the spot, “isn’t yours.” My blood started to boil.
“Too bad,” he snarled. “I got here first. Try again next time.”
“If you insist,” I responded with more calm, “I’ll report this to the apartment management. They’ll make you move. I don’t see what’s so hard about just admitting you were wrong”
He stepped toward me, making me unconsciously take a step back.
“Listen, lady,” he began. “You don’t want trouble. Neither do I. You don’t want anything bad to happen.”
“Move, or I’ll get management. I’m sure they want to know about the new thug staying here,” I said, this time raising my voice to what I hoped was a thunder strong enough to scare or convince him.
At this, the guy shrank slightly. He paused, as if in thought. Then, he began
I just remembered that I had a safe house prepared in Atlanta. I’d been there a few times in the past for work. There was one apartment I rented, a small one-bedroom place where I had some weapons stored. Nothing fancy, and I could go there and blend in. If I was lucky, maybe no one would ever find me.
All right , I thought, I’m going to Atlanta.
Chapter 3 – Rose
My first case as a lawyer was a big one. Someone had just carried out a massacre of upcoming witnesses for a major trial against the Blood Brothers, a powerful biker gang. They were untouchable for years, and now the government had an opportunity to cut them down to size. This killing was a huge wrench in the works. Only one person, a girl, survived, and she was in no shape to help with the investigation. I was excited to prosecute this case, and now I couldn’t do that.
The story was nationwide news, and the pressure to find the criminal was extremely high. According to the FBI, whoever did this had been responsible for crimes committed in the past, but the killer had always been careful enough to avoid being caught. Anyone who was able to kill hundreds of people for money and hurt a child definitely had no soul. I wanted to solve this case and put this monster in prison.
We didn’t have much information to work with, and even after a few days, no new information became available. I drove home one night with Amber and Jessica preoccupied with the case and ruminating over the facts. Just as I was about to park in my reserved space, I saw a huge motorcycle taking up two spaces, including mine.
This was a pain in the ass. A man was dismounting. He looked like the sort of person afterschool specials warn kids about. His black hair was long and unruly, and stuck out in all directions. Tattoos of circles, demons, fire, and other creepy images covered his arms and neck, rippling with muscles. His clothes were caked with years of unwashed dirt, oil, and tar. Everything about him was bad news.
“Get out and walk back home,” I told to my kids without turning my head to them. “Lock yourselves in. I’m going to have a talk with this guy.”
The girls obeyed and left. I got out of my car and approached the stranger.
“Excuse me,” I attempted, trying to keep my voice level. I was going with the polite method first. If that didn’t work…I’d have to try something else.
He didn’t respond at all. He must have been ignoring me.
“Sir, excuse me. But you’re taking up two spaces. One of them belongs to me. I need to park my car here,” I tried again.
He faced me this time, and he was obviously not in the mood for conversation, judging by his face.
He scowled toward me.
“I don’t see your damn name on this space,” he gestured at the ground. “Find somewhere else to park. There’s plenty of place elsewhere.”
“I live here. We all have a reserved space. And this one,” I directed at the spot, “isn’t yours.” My blood started to boil.
“Too bad,” he snarled. “I got here first. Try again next time.”
“If you insist,” I responded with more calm, “I’ll report this to the apartment management. They’ll make you move. I don’t see what’s so hard about just admitting you were wrong”
He stepped toward me, making me unconsciously take a step back.
“Listen, lady,” he began. “You don’t want trouble. Neither do I. You don’t want anything bad to happen.”
“Move, or I’ll get management. I’m sure they want to know about the new thug staying here,” I said, this time raising my voice to what I hoped was a thunder strong enough to scare or convince him.
At this, the guy shrank slightly. He paused, as if in thought. Then, he began
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