The Cartel Lawyer by Dave Daren (ebook reader below 3000 TXT) 📕

else could grab it and gave my faithful Honda an affectionate pat on the dashboard before I climbed from the car.

I grabbed my briefcase and headed inside, and once again, the smell of coffee washed over me as soon as I opened the door to the shop. I teetered over to the line as I tried, and failed, to hold back a yawn. I almost hit myself in the head with my briefcase when I brought my hand up to cover my mouth, but managed to stop myself just in time.

“Hey!” the blue-haired barista greeted when I made it to the front of the line. “Two days in a row. Do you want another cold brew?”

“I want the most caffeinated beverage you have,” I told her with a sleepy grin.

“The cold brew is pretty strong,” she told me. “We steep it for twenty hours. But I can add a few extra shots for good measure.”

“Perfect,” I said. “Can I get one of the bacon, egg, and cheese burritos, too?”

“Sure,” the young woman bobbed her head as she rang it up.

I paid and then stood off to the side while I waited for my order. Most people seemed to be getting their orders to go, so I didn’t have to worry about finding a seat, though there were too many people around for me to feel comfortable with leaving my briefcase alone.

The coffee and burrito were ready in only a couple of minutes, and as the other barista handed me the plate, the blue-haired young woman tossed a couple of packs of sriracha on the plate with a wink.

“You always forget to ask for those,” she teased before she took the next person’s order.

“Thanks,” I laughed.

I found a table near the back of the store with a clear line of sight to the door, and then I sat down to devour my breakfast before my meeting. The sriracha, eggs, bacon, and cheese were a perfect combination, and it only took a few bites for me to finish the burrito.

“Mr. Torres?” a beautiful young woman asked as she came up to my table.

She had perfectly golden skin, honey-brown eyes, and light-brown hair with copper highlights that she had pulled up into a long ponytail. She wore a white blouse tucked into a blue, flowy high-waisted skirt that accentuated her full, round butt. She had a bright smile that put me at ease, and I could see why people would open up to her.

“Yes,” I said with a smile. “Eloa?”

“Yes,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit?”

She had a messenger bag that bounced around her hips, and her free hand held a paper cup with her name on it.

“Please,” I said as I gestured for her to take a seat.

“Great,” she set her coffee down and then pulled off her bag before she joined me. “How are you?”

“Pretty good,” I answered. “You?”

“Great,” she said with a little bob of her head that made her ponytail swish behind her head.

She took a sip of her coffee as she studied me. She still had a smile, but there was no doubt that she was a journalist as she looked me over like she could see the story of my life written on my face.

“Did you bring your information?” I asked to break the growing silence.

“Hmm?” she tilted her head as she thought about my question. “Oh! Yes, of course. But, may I ask what your interest in the Everson Juvenile Detention Center is?”

“I have a client that was just sentenced there,” I told her.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered while she pulled her laptop out of her bag. “That place is absolutely terrible.”

“I found a few things,” I hedged.

“They’re pretty good at hiding how awful they are,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “Not many people pay much attention to juvie centers. And the people who’ve complained are all family members. I’ve been trying to learn more about them, but on the outside it looks like it’s completely fine.”

“So you’ve been there?” I asked after I took a long swig of my cold brew.

“Just to the gates,” she grumbled. “They won’t let me inside since I’m not family or a lawyer.”

She flashed a megawatt smile at me that made my heart skip a beat.

“I might be able to help you put a case together,” I said as I leaned forward. “But I’ll need something from you as well.”

“The information I’ve gathered so far,” she replied as she booted up her computer.

“Yes,” I said with a nod. “I need anything you have on their financials. Their funding, their spending habits, everything.”

She looked up from her computer screen, I could see the gears turn as she processed what I said, and then her face lit up with a bright smile.

“I think I know some people that can help us with that,” she said while her ponytail swished behind her.

The noise of the coffee shop had died down since most of the morning rush had begun to thin out, and only a few people occupied the other tables. There was a young woman with long, straight black hair that glanced over at us more than normal, and I thought that she took a picture of me at one point.

I shook my head and told myself that my conversation with Osvaldo had made me paranoid, though when the woman shifted and pulled her hair to the side, I saw a tattoo that looked familiar. It was one that I’d seen on Alvaro and the goons that had watched my apartment, and my stomach clenched as I realized that I was still under surveillance.

“Is everything okay?” Eloa asked as she looked around.

She paused as she noticed the tattooed woman, but when the long-haired goon winked and smirked at her,