Page 23 of Mean Machine

“What you did looks like manslaughter to me. Yes, she died, but it wasn’t your intent, so the whole thing falls apart on the mens rea clause. Your case should have been built on the irresistible impulse defence, which would have definitely earned you a downgrade to manslaughter. Of course, the judge could have had you committed if he thought you were a menace to society, but if we discard that possibility and assume a more realistic outcome, at the very least, you would have avoided the life sentence. In other words, you would have been sentenced to much shorter stewardship, and likely not under constant guard. If this were overturned, or at a minimum downgraded, you could likely get rid of the guard, possibly have a profession, and reclaim part of your life. In the best case, you could go free. Most manslaughter convictions don’t spend more than ten years in prison. And it’s entirely possible the conditions you’ve lived under would be counted against any remaining sentence you might have to serve. In other words, the beatings and deprivations you’ve suffered would be enough that you’d be released immediately. In theory.”

Brooklyn’s heart clenched painfully. “I could be out of the contract?” The one thing he wanted more than Dragan Thorne’s belts. Yes, his life was in tatters, he had no friends left, was all alone in the world, but he could have his life back. Rebuild. Not constantly swim in endless darkness, and swim only in order to not drown.

“Yes.” Nathaniel sipped his tea. “The catch being that there are only a handful of solicitors or barristers interested in representing you. It would have to go to the Court of Appeal. New evidence would have to be found. It could take months or maybe even years.”

There it was—looping back to how he’d ended up here in the first place. No legal aid available, no money to pay for it privately. That situation hadn’t changed. Fuck. Two kinds of laws: for the haves and have-nots. “I don’t have any money.”

“I’ve been known to do pro bono work,” Nathaniel said and glanced at Brooklyn over his tea.

Suddenly, Brooklyn’s heart was racing again like after a very hard first round. Brooklyn couldn’t help but stare at Nathaniel. Was this another one of those head games?I could do this, but you’d have to get me in the mood first.Then why did Nathaniel come out with this now? After what Brooklyn had just done to him? Was it a tease? Spite? What reason did Nathaniel have towantto help him after that rough sex that could so easily have turned into rape? It hadn’t been, right?

“You would represent me?”

“I would.”

Now, game or no game? “What’s it going to cost me?”

“It’s part of my professional code of conduct that I cannot represent a client without being told to represent him. I can’t make these decisions on my own. You’d have to tell me you want me to look into this for you.”

God, seemed Nathaniel had thought this through and wasn’t playing games. If there was even the slightest hope that he could be out, he had to grasp it with both hands. “What about ISU? I can’t even sign a contract, let alone hire somebody to represent me.”

“Don’t worry about them. At this stage, they don’t need to know. But of course, I can’t make any promises. I think you have a case, but you might want to ask for a second opinion.”

“I can’t afford a second opinion!”

“Yes, this is where the process as it currently stands looks a little tenuous.”

To put it mildly. Needing to calm his racing heart, Brooklyn picked up his tea mug, turned it in his hands to get to the handle.Breathe. Calm down. Think.It might not happen. It might not lead to anything. But even a glimmer of hope was better than nothing. “So you’re a barrister? Solicitor?”

“Both, actually. I studied law, qualified as a solicitor, and was called to the Bar by the Honourable Society of the Middle Temple, which is one of the four Inns of Court.”

Smart and rich. Barrister. God, they charged more money per hour than he’d made in a week. At least the very top dogs. “And I thought you were a banker or businessman.”

Nathaniel’s expression was surprisingly boyish. “You had a high opinion of me.”

Brooklyn grinned. “Well, yeah.”

“In any case, I can take care of both research and representation. It might be a few weeks or months until we’re ready, but I think we should at least try.”

“And why? I can’t be that good a fuck.”Especially such a rough one.

Nathaniel laughed. “I think helping to break your contract could, in the long run, be cheaper.” He sipped the tea and opened the belt of his robe. “I’m going back to bed. It’s getting quite late for me.”

The robe fell open, and Brooklyn studied the naked body underneath. Damn, but Nathaniel wasn’t bad-looking at all. His was a silent, calm confidence that ensured he was heard. Yes, barrister fit him well. Not flashy, but people listened to him. Even Curtis.

He watched Nathaniel climb back into bed and took a mouthful of the tea, cooler now but oddly soothing.

Nathaniel was lying on his side, arm, shoulder, and a stretch of back visible. Damn. Like this, it was hard to discount him as a stranger. Not pushing him, not playing mind games, not making any demands. Just there.

And maybe a ticket back to a normal life.

Brooklyn huffed. If the guy wanted to fuck in return for free legal assistance, that wouldn’t be such a bad deal.

He undressed, approached the bed, sat down, and slid under the covers. Nathaniel reached out and switched off the lamp on the bedside table.

“You know, I’m sorry I was so rough.” Spoken into darkness, towards Nathaniel’s neck, like most of the secrets he’d ever told people. “I’d say I didn’t mean to, but that would be a lie.”

“I expected that to happen.” Nathaniel’s voice was low too. “I don’t mind rough, sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” He seemed to mean it. He reached behind himself to place a hand on Brooklyn’s thigh. “The most important thing is that you listened.”

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