Jax (Cocky Cage Fighter Series) Read Online Free PDF Page B

twenty-seven years."
    Malone’s face goes slack, his tan skin turns pale white, and then he really is out of his chair, scrambling for the small black trashcan beside my desk.
    In that moment I feel an unexpected twinge of sympathy for him. He's known for being a tough, badass fighter, and at the moment he's on his knees losing all the contents of his stomach. He almost looks…vulnerable.
    I grab a few tissues from the dispenser on my desk and hand them to him when it sounds like he's finished. He eventually accepts my offering, looking up at me with dark, watery eyes, seeming more like a scared boy than a violent criminal. 
    "You can't let them convict me," he pleads. "I swear I didn't do it."
    I have to look away from his sad, pitiful, puppy dog eyes before they suck me in. I'm still a sucker for strays. "Those are just the maximum sentences. You know, the worst case scenario sentences. With a clean record and a decent judge, you might only get the minimum of a hundred and fifty-four months. A little less than thirteen years," I say, doing the math for him.
    "Thirteen… fuck ! I wouldn't get out until I'm forty fucking years old," he mutters, hanging his head while wiping off his mouth.
    Eventually he rises gracefully to his feet and sits back down in his chair with hunched shoulders. I go around my desk and pick up the smelly trash can, taking it out in the hallway for my fellow coworkers to enjoy. Ha! Take that you bastards.
    "It's important for you to understand what you're facing upon conviction,” I tell Jackson as I return to my seat. “Because if the prosecutor offers a plea deal to a lesser offense like assault on a female with just a few years active, it's worth considering."
    "I'm not pleading guilty," he says gruffly.
    "Even though serving three or four years is a heck of a lot better than twenty-seven or thirteen years?" I ask in disbelief.
    "I’m not. Pleading. Guilty. I didn't rape that bitch, and I'll take the risk of doing the extra time before I fucking say I did it."
    He may think that now, but when the evidence starts coming in, he'll probably change his mind.
    "All right, so let's get ready for trial."
    "My head coach wants to know if we're going to do a press conference anytime soon, you know...to calm things down with the media?"
    "Your coach wants to know?" I ask curiously.
    "Don Briggs. He's like my coach, manager, and agent all rolled into one."
    "Oh. Well, there are rules of professionalism that limit what attorneys can say about pending trials. We have to be careful or the prosecutor will argue that we're trying to influence the jury pool. Why don't I work on drafting something up, and then email it to you for approval? Just one that’s short and sweet like, "Mr. Malone adamantly denies all of the charges against him and intends to plead not guilty and go to trial to prove his innocence. He appreciates the support of his fans during this difficult and stressful time."
    "That works." Malone nods. "I probably shouldn't say that I've never choked the bitch but I'd really like to do it now that she's made up these bullshit charges."
    "Yes, let's not mention choking any…bitches, especially not the victim. You'll need to watch your temper because any sort of outburst will just add fuel to the prosecutor's fire." 
    "Right."
    "We may need to take a trip to Atlantic City soon to get the video surveillance, and you can show me the hotel room, so we can take some pictures to possibly use as exhibits. We can talk to the hotel staff to see if they remember seeing her, and I’ll set up an appointment with the District Attorney to get acquainted." 
    "Yeah, whenever. Just let me know. It's not like I've got anything else to do," he says with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
    "All right, how about tomorrow? I can get the subpoena for the video ready, and my Notice of Appearance and Motion for Discovery typed up to file it with the clerk while we're there."
    Yesterday I was terrified of the man, but