Page 111 of Waste of Worth

“Some haven’t been officially filed yet, while others have, but yes.”

“Fine.”

Dino couldn’t help but wonder … “You’re not the least bit concerned that I’ll come out of this like my father did—a rat?”

Terrance laughed again, loud and hard. “Dino … that is the one thing I have never worried myself over where you and your brother are concerned. You’re not your father—your uncle made sure of that.”

Dino wasn’t so sure.

And he certainly wouldn’t give credit to his uncle, either.

After a quick goodbye, Dino slid the phone back to the lawyer. Tony pocketed the device, looking to Dino expectantly.

“Happy?” the lawyer asked.

Not yet.

“You’re fired,” Dino said.

Tony’s eyes grew as wide as saucers. “I beg your pardon?”

Dino waved at the door behind him. “Take me back to where the others are waiting for their public defenders to show up. I’ll take their lead and grab myself one appointed by the court. I don’t need another one of Ben’s underlings fucking me around more than he already has—that includes you, Tony. Get out. You’re fired.”

“A public defender?” the lawyer asked, his face reddening.

Dino laughed at the sight of the man’s rage.

He’d take the time that was thrown at him. He already knew he wasn’t going to be given bail, as he’d be considered a major fucking flight risk, what with his connections out of country and the proof the prosecution would have about his overseas bank accounts in countries that had no extradition treaties with the United States.

Dino was good and fucked, and nobody had even thought to use lube when they bent him over. But he’d take it.

What else could he do? He’d do what he needed to do.

God save their souls when he was out, though. He planned on coming out swinging.

“You’re serious,” Tony spluttered in his outrage.

“Anyone will be better than you.”

He fucking meant it, too.

THE bespectacled, gangly man peered over the documents, and then looked to Dino. Over the period of a few weeks, he had learned a few things about his public defender—Mike, the guy liked to be called—that he thought was most noteworthy. The man was young—twenty-seven, to be exact—for a lawyer, but he’d earned his degrees, without question. He never questioned Dino’s requests, and not once had he asked Dino if he was really guilty.

That gained the guy brownie points.

“You’re serious about this?” Mike asked.

“They offered it, didn’t they?”

Mike nodded, going back to the documents. Dino took the time to look around the room they were in, noting the gray walls and barred windows. The jail gave very little by way of comfort, and Dino had called this place home for four long weeks.

He had a while yet to go, though.

“It’ll be a year and a half if you plead guilty on the gun charges and the possession charges they added on for the five ounces of weed they picked up in your office,” Mike explained.

“Five ounces they planted,” Dino muttered.

All the drugs had been cleared out.