ADA Bridget Fonta was working late. Again. But with the recent release of Michael McKean she was concerned enough to ignore her work for a moment and watch the interviews the local news had of him on their website. She hated watching the ones they had of her. She always felt she came across... wrong somehow. She listened as the reporter asked,
"Are you worried that having been released, Mr. McKean might seek some form of retribution, Miss Fonta?"
She listened to herself answer but all she could think while watching it was, "God, I look scared. Why do I look scared?"
She knew why she looked scared. McKean was believed to have murder all fifteen members of the "Lethal lead crew" in one night. Tonitia Gordy, a fifteen year old girl who was there during the murders swore out an affidavit confirming Michael was the one that had done the killing. When Tonitia was found dead a few days later the DA pushed to arrest and charge Michael for her murder. They had no proof he had killed any of the other gang members. And what they had connecting him to Tonitia's death was total assumption. Seven years later the idiot who -did- kill Tonitia admitted it to a retired cop in a bar. Murder weapon was found because they, apparently, were a very nice pair of scissors and the idiot didn't want to throw them away. Tonitia's DNA was still on them and now...
He single handedly killed fifteen gangbangers in their house and left no evidence that he had ever been there. Yeah, she was scared. The man was dangerous. She clicked on the latest interview with Michael. She noticed he was dressed nice. Black three piece suit with a red tie and charcoal gray overcoat. He didn't dress nice before. She wondered where he got the money.
"Michael, will you be seeking damages for your incarceration?"
"I want to be as decent as I can about this... BUT, we are in talks with the State's Attorney General's office. I'm sure we'll be able to work it out like adults."
"Are you angry?" Another reported blurted.
She watched as he laughed. "Uhhhh no. Not really." She heard the crowd of reports murmur their disbelief. Michael put his hands together and leaned forward like he was talking to children. "OK. Ladies?" He pointed to a young hispanic woman to his right. "That means you too. Just because YOU would have a hard time in Rikers? Does not mean 'I' had a hard time in Rikers. Mm K?"
"But you must feel some frustration over the whole affair."
He nodded. "Sure. I feel the DA's office needs better oversight. The charges against me were preposterous to begin with."
"What about ADA Fonta. She really seemed to have it in for you."
He laughed again. "The only thing I want from Miss. Fonta is dinner... and God willing," He smiled. "...breakfast." He smiled even broader and waved as he began to slip past them.
Dinner she could do. Hell, she could do breakfast. He was an attractive bastard. But that fear told her it was just an act. There was no way he could forgive her. She hadn't forgiven herself. She closed the laptop and stood for a good stretch. It was past time to go home. She began putting a few folders away in the cabinets behind her and when she turned around there he was. Just on the other side of her desk. When she saw that he wore gloves she glanced at her purse. Her gun was in her purse.
She was about to break for it but he had seen the glance and guessed what was in the purse. He quickly bounded up, stepped once on her desk and dropped between her and her gun. She took that opportunity to make a break for the door instead but he caught her and held her. She went stiff as he turned her around and pressed her against the blinds. His right hand slipped up to her neck.
"Michael, please. We can talk about this."
"I don't enjoy frightening you, Bridget." He whispered.
She nodded quickly. "Then why are you doing it?"
He gave a slight shrug as he removed his hands from her. "It was the only way to prove to you I didn't want to hurt you." He said as he removed his gloves and put them in the pockets of his overcoat.
She licked her lips and swallowed. He was watching her with that cocky smile of his. The same one he'd worn since the first time she met him. He always seemed to view her as something to be possessed. The "21st Century Woman" part of her brain hated him for seeing her as property. While the "Irish Catholic Divorce" part found it arousing.
"I AM sorry, Michael."
"For what? Doing your job?" He shook his head.
"I... " she shook her head in thought. "I knew you were innocent."
"You did not. You knew you didn't have enough to prosecute me. That is NOT the same thing."
She gave a few big nods. "I KNEW some ADA,who I could never find, said the police thought you killed the LLC for their drug territory and DA Wurster ran with it. But all the cops I knew said you did it because they raped a grocery store owner's daughter and threatened to kill her if he talked."
"Can't prove I killed anyone." He stated like a petulant child but continued in a normal tone. "And none of that means you could KNOW I was innocent of Tonitia's murder."
She sighed. The man exasperated her. He had since the moment she met him. "That's a nice suit, by the way."
"Thank you. I got an advance from my attorney's firm. Your outfit is very nice as well. Though I wish it was summer. As I recall you wear hip hugging skirts in the summer. Mmmmm." He smiled. She laughed. He put his right hand on her hip and she flinched. "Do I still scare you?"
Yeah... You... Yes." She gave several fat nods.
"You know I'm not going to hurt you. Right?"
She shook her head. "Maybe you have something more sinister in mind."
"Yeah I do." He smiled once more as stepped even closer and put his left hand on her other hip."
"Woah boy. Wooooah" She pressed her hands against his chest and smiled nervously. "Let's just uh..."
"But counselor, you said you were sorry." He smiled innocently only a few inches from her face.
"Heh... uh, not that sorry."
"Well, how sorry are we talkin? Maybe I can work with it."
She could feel his thumbs rubbing her hips. "Michael." She whined.
"Yes, Bridget?" She hated that smug smile.
She sighed. "We both know you're not really interested in me."
"I'm not? Why am I here then?"
"Well,.." She nodded a few times. "...you were pretty obvious about the sex thing."
"I DO want sex. What sane man, {or lesbian}, could look at you and not want it? But why you?"
"I don't know!"
"Yes you do." He whispered
'You're..." She shrugged. "Trying to have a quick fling so you can brag about it before you run off after some..." Another shrug. "...super model or something."
He stepped away from her and cocked his head to the side as he let go of her hips. "You don't actually know how hot you are. Do you?"
She took a breath. "I know I don't have the looks to warrant this kind of attention."
"Wow."
"What?"
"Nothin." He shrugged. "It's just..." He shook his head. "I always thought you were doing the Sister Bridget chastity routine because you were making excuses. Like, I have a daughter to raise or I have a career or the family needs me or some lame ass thing like that."
"Those are not lame ass things!"
"Yeah and they're also not the problem."
He seemed to be waiting for her to say something. "...Well?" She shrugged.
"You think you're ugly."
"I do not... I just know that I'm..." she shrugged again. "You know?" She crossed her arms over her breasts and chewed her lip. "Not glamorous." He laughed. "What?!"
"Glamor" is about fashion, not looks."
"You know what I mean."
