The Spark

“I think I only need Rotterdam and Dickson to get the two-thirds I need.”

“The Dick should be easy to bag. He’s in your division.”

“I know. But he hasn’t presented his bare ass for me to kiss lately. I also just found out that if he votes for me and I make partner, I’d be breaking his record. He made partner in eight years.”

“Shit. Well, you better hope his ego is smaller than yours, then.”

“Don’t remind me.”

It was almost eleven o’clock by the time we left the restaurant. On our way out, my phone buzzed. I looked at the caller ID and shook my head. “Speak of the devil.”

“Who is it?”

“The Dick.”

“It’s pretty late for him to be calling, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, no shit. Guess puckering up doesn’t have a quitting time.” I swiped to answer. “Donovan Decker.”

“Decker. I need a favor.”

“Of course. What’s up, boss?” I pumped my closed fist up and down in the universal whacking off motion as Trent looked my way.

“I need you to pick up another pro bono case.”

Fuck. I’d already done my a

“I need you to jump on it right now.”

“Now?”

“Can you get down to the seventy-fifth precinct?”

That was the last place I wanted to go at any time of the day. I frowned, but answered, “Yeah, sure.”

“The kid’s name is Storm. He’s a minor.”

“First or last name?”

“Pretty sure it’s his last name. He goes by Storm, so I’m not sure what his first name is. His social worker is on her way and will meet you there.”

“Okay. No, problem.”

“Thanks, Decker. I owe you one.”

I swiped my phone off. The fucker better remember that in two months.

***

I hadn’t stepped foot in this place in more than thirteen years, yet the minute I walked in, I recognized the familiar smell. Trying to ignore the memory, I headed right to the desk sergeant.

“How you doing? Do you have a kid named Storm here? I’m not sure if it’s his last name or first.”

“Who’s asking?”

“I’m his legal counsel.”

The old timer looked me up and down. “I’m guessing this is pro bono for some fancy firm.”

“Good guess. I take it he’s here?”

The cop picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “I got a pretty boy out here for Storm. Looks more expensive per hour than my ex-wife’s asshole divorce attorney I had to shell out for, so…no rush.”

The police weren’t exactly fans of defense attorneys. I shook my head. “You should try a more original hobby. Being miserable to all lawyers is pretty cliché. But regardless, I shouldn’t have to remind you that all questioning stops now. And I assume you’ve made the requisite good-faith attempt to contact the kid’s parent or guardian before asking him anything.”

“Are you sure you’re not related to the kid? You have the same wi

I sighed, but I knew arguing at a police station was generally pointless. So I did as told and parked my ass on the bench. A half hour later, I was engrossed in answering emails when I heard the station door open and close. I didn’t bother to look up until I heard the sergeant say Augustus Storm. He was talking on the phone again, while a woman stood in front of him at the desk.

Augustus, huh? I smirked. No wonder the kid stuck with Storm. It was hard enough to gain respect in this neighborhood without being saddled with a name like Augustus. I straightened my tie and stood, intending to walk over to the woman I assumed was the kid’s social worker. But one look at her profile and my step faltered.

I froze.

The side of her face looked awfully familiar…

As I stared, she again spoke to the desk sergeant, so I leaned in and paid close attention.

That voice.

I knew that sweet, feathery sound—the kind that could tell a person to fuck off without them even knowing it.

But it wasn’t until the sergeant pointed in my direction, and the woman turned, that I realized this woman had told me to fuck off—not in so many words but with her actions. Our eyes met and I smiled, though the sentiment wasn’t reciprocated. Instead, the woman’s eyes widened as I approached.

“Hello, Autumn.”