Zeus (Contemporary Mythos Book 6)

The jail set me up in a private room and I sat at the table, mindlessly scrolling through dozens of images of my opposing counselor, waiting for my client’s arrival. It was no wonder the media had a field day with her. She was practically a supermodel practicing law. But one thing I noted, despite over a hundred images, in not one of them did she smile. And she was always alone. Was she depressed at all times? Angry? Putting on a serious demeanor for the sake of the cameras?

And why the fuck did I care?

The door burst open, and I immediately turned the phone screen black, resting it on the table in front of me. Adjusting in my seat, I smoothed down my tie and waited.

Melissa Daniels. Late forties. Dark hair with exposed grey roots in wiry disarrays of frizzy curls. Double chin. And that same scowl from her mugshot.

I nudged my chin at the officer, signaling he could leave. As Melissa maneuvered into the chair across from me, the cuffs on her wrists jangled. Removing the folder from my briefcase, I slapped it down between us, locking eyes with her.

“They say you’re the best,” she said, her voice gruff and lifeless.

“They say a lot. But on that, they’d be correct. It’s a wonder you didn’t hire me in the first place.” I flipped open the folder, shuffling the papers like the professional I was.

Melissa snorted, sucking snot back into her throat through one nostril like she was getting ready to spit a godsdamned loogie. “You’ve cost nearly every penny I have.”

“It’s a worthy investment, trust me.” I paused to watch her for a moment as she unabashedly stuck half a finger up her nose, digging. After sucking on my teeth, I flipped the folder shut, garnering her attention. “We’re going to need to work on your—manners while we’re sitting in court. I’ll also make arrangements for your—” I flicked my wrist at her head. “—hair.”

She frowned and dragged a hand over the bird nest atop her skull. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Everything. You want sympathy from the jury? They need to see you at least give one out of two shits.” I held my phone up, acting as if its presence in my hand had a correlation to our conversation.

In reality, I worked up an e-mail asking for a meeting with the lovely prosecution. Considering I’d already lost time given the last-minute change of attorneys, the prosecution would have no means to deny the request—not that they ever had the means. Not to mention, the sooner I had Keira within my sights, the sooner I could have her—underneath me, on top of me, in front of me…

I grimaced at the amount of evidence already piling up against her as I flicked through the folder. “Did you tell your hairstylist you could kill your husband and get away with it?”

She tapped her pudgy fingers against the table. “People say a lot of things.”

“That they do.” Grabbing a pen, I jotted notes. “It’s not recorded, so we have that going for us. The dozen answering machine recordings however, are a little harder to skirt around.”

She rolled her eyes as if her time spent here was an inconvenience.

“Was your husband abusive? Physically? Emotionally? Was he a bad father?” I tapped the pen on the paper, making dozens of dots.

I’d briefly skimmed family and friend testimonials, all stating that he was, in fact, a good father. But I needed to understand her angle. If she even had one. The serpent-like glint in her gaze—the hollowness I could sense through her mind suggested she may have simply “snapped.”

“Being a dad to our kids was about the only damn thing he was good for. He’d watch them while I worked and made all the money.” She rolled her shoulders with a sneer. “I’d be lucky if half the time I came home to a cooked meal. Not even sure what the bastard did all day.”

Rubbing my chin, I kept my gaze fixed on her, noting the aloofness when she spoke about him. No guilt. No remorse. I’d venture to guess she couldn’t remember most of what she and her accomplice carried out that day—acting and reacting on pure rage.

“Is that the reason you left the voicemails? Angry at him for not upholding his stay-at-home-dad duties?”

The words sounded fucking ridiculous out loud, and it was the part of the job I hated most. As a defense lawyer, it wasn’t my job to judge or cast blame. All were innocent until proven otherwise, right? Fuck me. At least I knew what waited for her at the end of the river Styx when she arrived in the Underworld.

“It says here, months before the incident, you landed a rather large contract with one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the country. That true?” I leaned back, pinning my gaze to hers, studying her.

She glared at me. “Yeah. So?”

Tossing the pen on the table, I held back an exasperated sigh begging to escape from my chest.

The selfish harpy wanted all of her newly hard-earned cash for herself—especially with a looming divorce started by her dearly departed husband. She couldn’t give me a legitimate means to defend her even if she wanted to, which meant it would rely heavily on the dismissal of evidence. A notification blipped on my phone, and I stole a glance at the reply e-mail from the prosecution agreeing to meet.

“Let’s cut straight to the chase, Daniels.” Staring at her, I lowered my phone. “Did you do it?”

She blinked. Silent.

“Mrs. Daniels. Did you murder your husband?” I purposely emphasized the ‘Mrs.’ part of her name, knowing full well I’d hit a nerve. The divorce was never finalized before his death. Therefore, she still legally bore the name of a man she hated enough to kill.

Am I already accusing her? Yes. Ninety-five percent of the criminals I represented were guilty of their crimes. In all honesty, it made winning a case easier than if they were innocent.

Melissa’s face distorted into a grimace, her hands balling into fists on the table, making the metal cinched against her skin squeak.

“Nothing leaves this room, but it makes it easier for me to formulate an argument on your behalf if I know the truth.” My electric powers sizzled over my skin, desiring nothing more than to force the confession out of her.

Her dark eyes panned to mine, an unspoken evil floating within them. “Yes. You’re damn right I killed him, the fucking asshole.”

And there we have it.

I nodded once, sliding the folder off the table and back into my briefcase with one swift motion. “There should be no need for you to testify, but now under no circumstance are we letting you get on that stand.” Standing, I pulled my jacket sleeves down, realigning them with my cufflinks.

“Are we done? That’s it?” Melissa looked around the small room.

“That’s it. Now I get to work. If I need any clarification on the evidence presented, I’ll arrange for another meeting.” I pressed a button, alerting the officer to retrieve Melissa.

Melissa Daniels was evil incarnate. One had to be to do what she did over the simple fact of “not liking someone.” But again, it wasn’t my job to judge them. And I certainly didn’t condone murder. It didn’t matter what my personal scruples were. She was a human being, and with that came certain rights. Rights that needed protecting. Guilty or not, someone has to be willing to say, “I’ll defend you.” And it might as well be me. A certain strength was needed to take the burden from others onto your shoulders. I’d been doing it for eons.

I stood in the men’s restroom of the courthouse, only several rooms, and across the hallway from the assigned meeting room. I’d arrived early but purposely waited three minutes over the agreed time—an excuse to make an entrance. Peering at myself in the mirror, I traced my hand over my beard and adjusted my sleeves. A snap of my fingers put every hair back into place atop my head, the cufflinks and watch sparkled with radiance, and not one hair within my beard was left untrimmed. As easy as I had it with the mortals I set my sights on, certain women took extra care—extra steps to ensnare. Given Keira’s reputation, I fully expected a pacing lioness. With a glance at the clock hanging on the wall, I’d become fashionably late and smiled to myself before exiting.

Slipping my hands in my pants pockets, I made my way down the hall, halting by the meeting room’s window. A man walked past, and I greeted him, not knowing who the fuck he was but needing an excuse to say something. She’d hear the boom in my voice through the wall—the power lacing every word. And within a few seconds, the daunting realization would crawl through her. That deep voice—my voice, didn’t belong to the previously hired defense lawyer.

Adjusting the knot of my tie with one hand, I opened the door with the other, focusing my gaze on my glossed shoes as I entered. “Apologies for being late. I had some…catching up to do on the case.”

It was subtle, but the smallest of feminine gasps escaped her throat.

Finally lifting my eyes to hers—was like being punched in the gut. The media hadn’t done this woman one ounce of justice. She was fucking gorgeous. The buxom and curvy blonde woman next to her widened her green eyes at me and squeezed Keira’s knee below the table.

“Keira. That’s Zane Vronti,” she loud-whispered, staring at me.

Keira slapped her hand, her nostrils flaring, heat flushing her light skin. “I can see that, Olivia,” she spat through gritted teeth, trying desperately not to glare at me.

Oh, the fire exuding from her like a backdraft.

Keira stood, smoothing her hands over the faux designer suit jacket hugging her tits. “I’m sorry, you failed to mention a counsel change in your e-mail request.”

“I figured this meeting would serve both purposes. Is there an issue, counselor?” I leaned a hip on the table.

Keira rolled her shoulders back, making herself taller before jutting her hand out. “Not at all. Keira—”

“—Bazin,” I finished for her. “Trust me. I’ve researched you.” Slipping my hand into hers, I sent enough electricity over her skin to elicit a reaction but not enough to hurt her.

Her face stayed neutral save for the slightest twitch of her upper lip.

Huh. Peculiar and incredibly…irritating.

Keira recoiled her hand and wiped it on the front of her pin-stripe skirt as if my palm was covered in shit. A grin tugged at my lips as I took a step back.

A femme fatale disguised in imitation Versace.

“My paralegal, Olivia.” She referenced the eager shorter woman to her left.

Olivia threw out her hand, a radiant smile plastering her face. “An absolute honor—” Her eyes cut to Keira and back to me. “—er, a pleasure to meet you.”

Squinting at her, I shook her hand, sending the same current through her as I had Keira. Olivia’s reaction was more to my expectation. She gasped, her neck flushing. A nervous bout of laughter floated from her belly, and she dragged her fingers through her wheat-colored waves of hair.

“Love the accent.” I pointed at her and winked, inciting another trail of bubbly giggling.

“Cheers,” she responded before plopping in her chair and fanning herself.

Keira sat down and folded her hands on the table, not sitting back.

All the more curious about her.

Moving to the opposing side of the table, I sat on the edge, gaining the high ground over Miss Bazin.

The suit jacket shifted as her shoulders tensed beneath the fabric. “You don’t want to have a seat, Mr. Vronti?”

“I’m fine right here.” I patted the glass table. “And please. It’s Zane.” Flashing as charming of a grin as I could manage without spraining something, I gauged her reaction.

She undid the top button of her purple blouse and re-buttoned it. “I assume you have evidence you propose to dismiss, Mr. Vronti?”

This. Woman.

“That confident, hm? No plea deal?” I plucked a pen from the holder in the center of the table and twirled it between my fingers.

Olivia’s gaze fell to my hand, and her palms flattened on the table.

“Not a chance.” Keira flipped the folder open. “Evidence you wish to challenge?”

For the love of me, give me something.

Pushing from the table with a smug grin, I rocked back on my heels before pacing the length of the room. Olivia’s eyes trailed me like a bouncing shiny red ball. Keira glanced only long enough to stifle an eye roll before removing a pen from her jacket and slapping it to the awaiting paper.

“The answering machine recordings,” I challenged.

Keira started to write but paused, furrowing her brow. “All of them?”

“All of them.” I tapped my fingertips to the table as I passed.

Keira rested the pen on the table. “There are several recordings of her threatening to kill her husband. Why would it be agreed to withhold those?”

“Fine. Keep those, but dismiss any where she goes into a name-calling barrage.”

Keira’s chest lifted as she sighed but kept it inaudible. “They’re still threatening.”

“Oh, come now, Keira.” I jiggled the keys in my pocket as I turned on my heel. “You’re telling me you’ve never dropped a curse word or two while arguing or—” Her gaze met mine. “—in the throes of passion?”

“Dear God,” Olivia whispered.

Not quite.

Keira undid two buttons on her shirt, taking several more seconds this time around before doing them up again.

I may not have broken through yet, but perhaps…cracked her invisible shield.