Present Day

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The almost empty courtroom aches under a pressing cloud of silence. A clerk cleared the observer area of spectators and reporters, bare seats awaiting potential jurors who'd rather not sit down. The prosecution table suffers from an equally meager attendance, with only a few young lawyers who are desperate to look at anything but the defense team. And there is me, surrounded by the sharpest attorneys money can buy, at least those who value wealth over morals. In the eyes of most law-abiding citizens, I'm scum. The embodiment of everything that's wrong with modern America. A ruthless man getting rich of organized crime.

An accomplishment I'm rather proud of.

"All rise. Court is now in session with the Honorable Judge Ortiz presiding."

Almost lazily, I get to my feet and yawn behind my hand. Eyes hooded, I watch the judge walk into the courtroom and take a seat behind the bench.

Reese Evans, my head council, elbows me in the side. When I turn my head, he shoots me a nasty look. Be on your best behavior, his glare warns.

I couldn't give a flying fuck. This case won't go anywhere; he just doesn't know it yet.

"Please be seated."

I drop into my chair and fold my hands in front of me like any obedient citizen would do. My lips twitch with anticipation. This will be fun.

The judge looks at the prosecution table. "Are you ready to proceed?"

A young man stands up, his face flushing in a crimson red. He couldn't be out of law school for more than a year. "I'm sorry, but Ms. Sinclair isn't here yet. We can't start without her."

The judge graces him with a thunderous look. "Then find her. You got five minutes."

When the young lawyer and his cohorts rush out of the courtroom, I snort. Good luck with that.

Playing with a pen on the desk, I spin it around and around. The swooshing noise is the only sound in the courtroom. A balled hand comes crashing down on my fingers, quelling my attempts at a distraction. Reese's glare has turned murderous.

"Do you know anything about this?" he mumbles under his breath.

I shrug. He should know me well enough by now to realize I have everything to do with Robyn's disappearance. I'm not gonna have the feds put me away for life.

Seconds trickle down in agonizing slowness. I loosen my tie, twitching in my seat. Over the past weeks, New York City has suffered from a stifling heat wave and the sunshine absorbed by the outer walls radiates into the courtroom. The light flooding in through the tall windows is almost blinding. It's a perfect day to lay out by the pool with a drink in my hand and a woman on her knees between my legs. Sitting here is such a waste of time.

The door to the courtroom opens and the main US Attorney for the Eastern District of New York marches in. For most people, Gordon Mullins is an impressive man—tall, fit, and sophisticated—who wears his arrogance with the same relaxed confidence as he wears his business pants. I find him ridiculous. He's a bully of the worst kind who advanced his career by stepping on the shoulders of others. The type of man I take pleasure squashing with my thumb.

Reaching the prosecution table, he gives the judge a crooked smile. "My deepest apologies, your honor, but I have no idea where Ms. Sinclair is. She did not check in this morning and is not answering her cell." He tosses me a sideways glance. "And considering that she is the lead prosecutor in Mr. Rossi's case, I can't exclude that something bad happened to her."

The judge takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. "I'll give you a forty-eight-hour continuance. By then, you either find Ms. Sinclair or you'll appoint another attorney from your office to handle the trial."

"Your honor, forty-eight-hours is by far not enough—"

"That's too bad, Mr. Mullins, because that's all I'm willing to offer. This case has been dragging on for over a year and Mr. Rossi has a constitutional right to a speedy trial. Considering that we have also summoned a jury pool for this morning, you are either ready to proceed in two days or I'll dismiss the case." The judge swings his gavel. "We are adjourned."

Rising back to my feet as the judge walks out, I smirk at Mullins. Let's see whether he's gonna find another sucker to take Robyn's place or throw in the towel and hope for better luck next time. Either way, I'm gonna win.

Reese ushers me out of the courtroom; I barely make it across the threshold before reporters and cameras squeeze around me.

"We have no comments at this time." Reese's baritone carries easily over the humming murmur and he pushes his way through the crowd.

I follow him with my head lowered to avoid showing my triumphant grin to the millions of viewers on the internet. Fuck these people. They are out for my blood and want to see me fall. It's sensationalism at its best and I'm not going to take the bait.

Almost at the elevator, a fool grabs my shoulder and I'm shoved against the wall.

"What the fuck did you do to her?" Spit flies from Mullins's mouth. He is so red in the face that the vein on his temple pulses.

Slow down, motherfucker.

"Take your hands off my client, counselor." Reese steps closer, though considering his short height and lack of muscle tissue, he won't be able to stop Mullins from pummeling me. "Otherwise, we'll press charges for assault and I'll file an ethical complaint with the bar association."

Mullins lets go of the collar of my suit jacket. Wiping the spit off his lips, he steps back. "I swear, I'm gonna get you for this."

With one eye on his pumping fists, I snort out a laugh.

Sure you do .

My gesture is enough for him to lose it. His punch hits me square in the chin and drives my head into the wall. For a breath, stars explode behind my eyelids. When the black spots clear, the scene in front of me softens the blow. Mullins is being restrained by two security guards, one of them pulling out handcuffs. The cameras keep rolling; the whole country just witnessed his assault. Talk about an open and shut case.

Reese rests his hand on my shoulder. "You okay, man?"

My jaw hurts like fuck and blood seeps into my mouth from a split lip, but I'm not gonna be a whiny pussy on national television. Dominic Rossi never shows a weakness. "Let's get out of here."

At home, I have a date with a little wildcat whom I'll have tamed by the time the forty-eight-hour deadline rolls around. She'll be mine, even if she doesn't know it yet.

I know, I know, I shouldn't start another project, but when inspiration strikes, I simply can't help it. Raw Justice will be dark (probably even darker than Paradise Falling) with a larger than life, overly arrogant MMC and a kickass FMC who will give him a lot of grief. It's my first "he falls first" romance, so I'm excited. Nick is a very morally gray character, so he will probably do a lot of things that will piss you off, but I hope you'll gonna love him regardless. Robyn, on the other hand, will appear straight as an arrow, though don't be fooled. Below the surface simmers a darkness that you (and Nick) might not be ready for. In any event, I hope this will be fun read.

I have to finish up a few other projects until November 15th, so until then, you'll get ad-hoc-inspired updates. After that, I will post regular updates for both Raw Justice and Paradise Rising.

Thanks for reading the first chapter of Raw Justice and please share your thoughts in the comments (and a vote would make my day if you found the chapter deserving).