Justice Hunter Read Free Page B

heard my answer, counselor,” the witness remarked calmly, which only further incited Zane.
    “Sir! This is your last warning. Answer the question,” she demanded.
    “Come on,” Hunter interjected. “She’s clearly badgering the witness. He already answered to the best of his ability. And frankly, Ms. Zane should have subpoenaed someone with more knowledge of that particular case.”
    “This is cross, Your Honor. And with all due respect, his client is the one who swore off in the other case.”
    “And we all know he signed off in his capacity as an authorized representative, which certainly doesn’t mean he has the facts memorized or that he deserves to be interrogated about an entirely different and unrelated matter.” Frankly, Hunter was desperate to make this line of questioning go away. God only knows how many other similar cases she’s unearthed.
    “I’m sustaining the objection,” said Russo, after weighing the argument.
    “But…”
    “Move on, Ms. Zane.”
    “Your Honor, I believe this is indicative of a pattern.”
    “Objection.”
    “Sustained,” he said, now glaring at Zane.
    “We have evidence that the plaintiff levels these sort of allegations against employees so it doesn’t have to pay out sizeable bonuses.”
    “Objection!” said Hunter, impressed nevertheless by Zane’s tenacity.
    “And we believe that’s what’s going on here.”
    “Then why didn’t they put that on the record with the court before today’s hearing? They had more than ample notice.”
    “And we fully intend to.”
    “Sustained! Sustained! What part of sustained don’t you understand, Ms. Zane?” he asked, rhetorically.
    A few murmurs were audible among the restless reporters toward the back of the courtroom.
    “Now move on!”
    Hunter tried to make eye contact with his witness, who’d been sitting there smugly, witnessing the carnage. As relieved as he was to have averted disaster, he knew that wouldn’t be the end of it. And his client had some explaining to do if Zane’s theory was even remotely credible.
    “Yes, Your Honor,” she replied, defeated. Yet Hunter suspected Zane’s antics were more deliberate than she was letting on. She could’ve been pushing Russo just to see how far she could go. Or was she trying to force his client’s hand at settlement? With the media following the company’s every move, rumblings of extortion had the potential to become an absolute public relations nightmare. A class action wouldn’t be altogether inconceivable. Hunter never underestimated his opponent, especially someone as talented as Melissa Zane. There were more tricks up her sleeve. And his unsuspecting client didn’t have a clue. “Now, Mr. Chablis, let me redirect your attention to this case. You do know about this case, don’t you?”

F IVE
     
    T he cold water hit Hunter like a smack in the face. He stood over the copper vessel sink in the men’s room of Marathon Grill, desperate to compose himself. His alluring hazel eyes stared out at his own reflection in self-disgust for getting sanctioned by Russo. His odds of making partner had officially tanked, even if he pulled off a minor miracle in the Mediacast case, which he knew was never going to happen.
    Hunter’s wavy brown locks flowed naturally. He’d inherited his patrician nose from his mother’s Episcopalian side of the family, not from the Jews on his father’s side. His complexion was olive, prone to an easy tan. On balance, his looks would have been the envy of most men.
    Hunter, humble to a fault, barely seemed to notice, though. He was seductive as hell and capable of persuading juries like an experienced snake charmer. His physique, chiseled at six feet, conjuring up images of Michelangelo’s David , was mostly genetics and less exercise than he preferred.

     
    “I’m so glad that you beat that bitch.”
    “I told you he didn’t rule yet,” replied Hunter, reluctant to admit just how poorly the hearing had gone. Not to