Valentine's Day Is Killing Me by Mary Janice Davidson, Susanna Carr, Leslie Esdaile Page B

and follow her. Her bank accounts show up real slim digits, no real big credit, no flashy car, modest apartment, low-key day gig, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a secret stash.” Ray rubbed his chin. “If Phat circles back in a few days, or she goes to him, and I can’t imagine him staying away from her long…at least she’ll have representation—will know what she’s up against, then me and Marc can work on cutting an information deal. I’m just mad that the bastard slipped down the back fire escape and got away with his boy.”
    “That’s crossing the line, man,” Raul said carefully. “The providing an attorney part.”
    All previous mirth had dissipated. Both men stood shoulder to shoulder and stared forward at the nervous woman who couldn’t see them.
    Ray nodded, watching Jocelyn take tiny sips of coffee as her pretty hands trembled. “I know. But the thing I hate most about seeing young women get hooked up with these roughnecks is them not realizing their legal position. They have no clue that just because their man is doing illegal crap, even if they aren’t directly, they can go up the river for a very long time. That’s why I want my boy to talk to her, get into her head, and make her think about the ramifications of staying with one of these guys. Marcus knows his shit, cold. Is excellent at what he does, so she won’t get no jackleg advice. This one has a brain, is too intelligent, and seems like she comes from a decent family that would flatline if they knew she was caught up in any of this. Hopefully, after she starts thinking, figures out how precarious her situation is, and all that she has to lose…”
    “Man, you’re dreaming. You know it doesn’t work like that. They go for the bling bling, the money. They’re also scared to death of retaliation and won’t talk, which you know is real.” Raul chuckled sadly. “Besides, trying to save this one might get your boy killed. Marc ain’t gonna be able to help himself; he’ll push up on this one for sure—a damsel in distress, too?” Raul walked away from the window and held the doorknob. “Plus, you know he won’t violate attorney-client privilege, even for you, if you’re angling for inside—”
    “I’m not, and that wouldn’t hold up under any judge. I want this one to have a shot at getting untangled, if she’s innocent.”
    “Can’t save ’em all, man,” Raul said quietly. “Can’t fix what happened to Sharon…or your sister. It wasn’t your fault.”
    Raymond didn’t answer.
    Raul opened the door. “But I can tell your mind is already made up. Got that look in your eye. Jaw muscle’s jumpin’. Okaaaay, partner. You sure your mind is set?”
    “Yeah. It is. Marcus owes me.”

Chapter Five
     
     
    Her mouth felt yucky, like a wad of nasty cotton had been shoved into it. She was freezing cold; goose bumps covered her arms and set her teeth on edge. Her eyes were puffing and felt like sandpaper had replaced the insides of her lids. She was sure that her hair was standing on top of her head, and knew her face looked a fright. Bone-weary didn’t come close to describing it as she made her way out of the interrogation room, down a long, ugly greenish-gray corridor, under glaring fluorescent lights.
    No money in her pockets—how was she going to get home, on a SEPTA bus, with no coat, in the dead of winter, wearing what looked like a hooker’s outfit? Logistics and new realities pummeled Jocelyn’s already embattled brain. She had no purse, no ID, no keys to even get back into her apartment, were she to find a way there. Hitchhike? Not. And wind up back in the slammer for soliciting? Pullease. Every friend she had was AWOL, not that she had a cell phone on her, and if she did take the cops up on a phone call offer, who would she be able to reach?
    Calling her mother was out of the question—that’s all she needed, was for her mother to have a heart attack at the station’s front desk. Althea