by Ember Dante
No good could come from it.
Reeling from my unexpected discovery, I knew I still needed to know more about Connor as a person. I had a decent grasp on his professional life, but other than what Ian had told me, I had no clue about the man himself. There was no way I could ask Ian—that would mean confessing about my little side project. I needed an objective third-party.
Of course.
We had a crack team of attorneys in our in-house legal department, and I recalled Tyler once mentioned receiving some very good—very discreet—advice from one of them. I searched for his name in the corporate directory and dialed his extension.
“This is Cameron,” he said, his voice silky smooth.
“Hi, Cameron. This is Emmy. Do you have a few minutes? I need to talk to you about something.”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Can I come see you? I’d rather not discuss it over the phone.”
“Of course.”
“On my way.”
I left my office and made the quick trek downstairs to Legal. Cameron’s office was located near the front corner of the building overlooking the flag poles and courtyard. His door was slightly ajar, and I knocked, announcing my presence before pushing it open.
“Hey, Cameron.”
His blond head popped up, and he beckoned me inside with a wide, easy smile as he rested his pen on the stack of papers before him. “Hi, Emmy. What can I do for you?”
“Well, it’s kind of a sticky situation.” I pushed the door closed behind me. “I was hoping you could give me some insider info on a District Judge.”
Cameron leaned forward and arched a brow. I could have sworn I saw a conspiratorial glint in his bright blue eyes. “Which judge?”
“Connor Walsh.”
He pursed his lips and released a long, low whistle. “You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
“What do you mean?”
“Walsh isn’t someone to be trifled with. You’d better have a damn good reason to check him out.”
“I just want to know more about his life outside the courtroom. It’s kinda personal.”
His brows knit as he considered my request, one hand scraping across his chin. “Have you got a dollar?”
“What?”
“Give me a dollar and we’ll talk,” he said, extending his palm.
I didn’t understand his meaning, but what the heck, I’d play along. Luckily I had stashed two dollars in my pocket so I could stop at the vending machine on the way back to my desk. “Here you go,” I said, placing one in his hand.
“Now you’re my client, so anything you tell me is protected under client confidentiality.” He winked. “Now how ‘bout you tell me what’s really going on? What’s up with your interest in Judge Walsh?”
Ah. Great way to guarantee my trust. I drew in a breath and let it out before launching into a shortened version of my story.
“Based on my research, I understand he’s a good judge. I have reason to believe he’s not a very nice man otherwise and I need an objective opinion.”
“What makes you think he’s a jerk?”
“I’m dating his eldest son, and he’s told me a few things about Connor.”
“Then why don’t you ask your boyfriend your questions?”
“One, I can’t. There’s a lot of bad blood there, so his answers aren’t going to be objective.” I sighed and felt my face heat. “Two, I don’t want him to know I’m digging around.”
“Snooping, you mean?” He chuckled, reclining into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Right.”
“Judge Walsh is an ultra-conservative, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I know for a fact that a lot of attorneys will file suits in his jurisdiction so he’ll rule in their favor. That being said, I’ve never experienced him behaving unfairly to either side in a dispute or a trial. He listens intently to all arguments before ruling. But, the vast majority of his decisions land on the conservative side, making him a favorite to that political segment.”
I nodded. “I got that impression when I read through a few of his opinions.”
“I’ve never known or heard him to be on the take. To the best of my knowledge, he’s a straight arrow in the courtroom.”
“But—?”
“I’ve met him a few times socially, and yes, I think he’s an asshole. I know it chaps his ass that he has an openly gay son. I assume you’ve discovered the scandal from several years back with the tennis coach?”
“Yes. Was that true, or were the stories just rumors?”
“There was no concrete proof if that helps, but it didn’t look good when the coach resigned. One could argue that he was pressured into it so the college could save face with the community, not to mention its wealthy benefactors. Walsh was still a county judge in Austin back then, but I heard through the grapevine that he went to a lot of trouble over damage control. He does love his reputation.”
“I’ve heard that,” I said.
“All I can say is that if he’s dirty, he does a great job of hiding it. It’s not illegal to be an asshole, which is about the extent of my experience with the man. Now his wife, she’s the exact opposite. Warm, inviting, never meets a stranger. A real delight to be around.”
“Do you think he’s ever cheated on her?”
“Oh, there have been rumors, but that’s about it. I can neither confirm nor deny.” He leaned forward again, resting an elbow on the desk and his chin in his hand. “My personal opinion, yes. Some of the stories I’ve heard have been from fairly reliable sources. My understanding is that he’s made a habit of sleeping with his secretaries or paralegals. Again, those are just rumors, and it’s not illegal to cheat on your wife. However, I think it does raise questions about his overall integrity, though like I said earlier, there’s never been even a hint of that in his decisions. It makes him a bit of an enigma.”
“Okay. Thanks. I just wanted a better picture of him. You’re right—he’s an enigma.”
“You’re welcome.” He sat back again as I turned to leave. “Be careful, Emmy. Everyone’s got some sort of skeleton in their closet, and you can’t unlearn the truth. Remember that.”
13
Emmy
The intervening time since I last saw Ian had been filled with work and only sporadic conversations with him. We spent our drive to the club catching up, but I was careful to omit my research into his father. I felt dirty, and more than a little guilty, knowing I’d have to tell him—just not right away.
Not surprisingly, the Friday afternoon traffic was crazy, so we were a little late meeting everyone. Parker arrived shortly after us, and Jules wasted no time laying claim, greeting him with a kiss that earned catcalls and shouts of ‘Get a room’ from surrounding partiers. It was obvious her intention was to send a clear message to Becky that Parker was off limits. I hadn’t felt the need to do the same, but given the hateful looks Becky kept sending my way, I was beginning to think I did. I thought she was my friend, and wasn’t there an unspoken girl code about poaching boyfriends?
I couldn’t blame her, really, for being attracted to him. Several women ogled him as we walked through the bar. Why wouldn’t they? He did look mighty fine, dressed casually but impeccably in dark jeans and a snug, red Lacoste polo, in that trendy ‘front-tuck’ style that looked ridiculous on other men but somehow worked for him, and a pair of deck shoes—without socks, of course.
What kept grabbing my attention was his hair. It had been cut—short. His waves were gone, and only an inch to an inch-and-a-half remained. It was still long enough to play with, however, which I found myself doing every time I leaned over to steal a kiss.
In an uncharacteristic move, I reached across him and brushed my palm over the scruff covering his jaw. My intention was to make a statement of my own, passive-aggressive as it was, but as soon as I made contact, touching him was all I wanted to do. Tyler was right—I had it bad.
You already knew that, sweetheart.<
br />
Ian was laughing at one of Tyler’s anecdotes but turned his head at my touch. He pressed his hand over mine before pulling it away to press a kiss to my palm. Our fingers laced together as he lowered our hands to his lap, a wry smile on his face. I thought that was the end of it until he bit down on his lower lip and flashed a quick wink. Oh, God...
It was enough to make me come on the spot.
The moment passed, and suddenly I was too hot. I noticed Tyler in my peripheral vision giving me an ‘I told you so’ look. Luckily our server arrived with fresh drinks, and I reached for mine as gracefully as possible—which wasn’t saying much. I took a large gulp, but it did nothing to cool me. Taking a deep breath, I excused myself and stood.
“Is everything okay? You look a little flushed,” Ian said, standing with me.
“I just need the ladies’ room.”
Nodding, he lowered his head and brushed his lips against my ear. “Do you need an escort? I don’t want you to get into trouble.”
His comment was the comic relief I needed, so I gave him a playful scowl and pinched the dimple in his chin. “You are such a smart-ass.” I laughed. “I’ll be right back. Save my seat.”
He swatted my backside as I turned to leave. “You got it, Beautiful.”
Jules jumped from her seat. “Hey, Em, wait up.” Once we were out of earshot, she leaned closer. “So what was with that weird look from Tyler?”
“He keeps telling me how crazy Ian is about me, and I think he’s gathering evidence.”
“Of course the man is crazy about you. A fucking blind man could see that especially after that little display you two put on.” She giggled deviously. “Becky is positively green with envy. I love it.”
I poked her arm. “You are so bad.”
We exited the bathroom and were squeezing our way through the crowded bar when I felt a tug on my arm. I spared a quick glance over my shoulder, thinking it was an accidental touch by some anonymous person having a good time. I was wrong. Fear clenched my chest at the all-too-familiar face.
“Hi, Em. It’s been a long time. You look beautiful, as always,” said Brett, his eyes roaming over me.
Jules, not paying attention, plowed into me, still chattering—most likely about Parker, but her voice was nothing more than white noise.
“What the fuck, Emmy?” she demanded. Her confusion quickly turned to anger when she realized the reason for my abrupt stop. “Leave her alone, asshole. Emmy, let’s go.”
Brett held up his hands in a show of peace. “I just wanted to say hello. I didn’t want to be rude by not saying anything.”
“Well, I didn’t see you at all, so it wouldn’t have been rude.” I took a step closer to Jules, who was attempting to pull me away. “I don’t have anything to say to you.”
“Come on, bunny. That’s no way to act toward an old friend, especially since you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts.”
“Don’t fucking talk to her, you prick,” Jules growled, pointing in his face. “Now back the fuck off before I punch you in the face.”
“Jules, don’t. I’ve got this,” I said, not taking my eyes off Brett. “I haven’t responded because I don’t want to talk to you. Pretend you didn’t see me and I’ll try to do the same.”
“Ouch. There’s no need to be a bitch. I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” The smug look on his face enraged me. “The last time I saw you, you were in bed with Samantha. Frankly, the sight of you makes me sick.”
Brett grabbed me when I turned away. “I made a mistake, Em. I love you. Tell me how I can fix this.”
I jerked my arm from his grasp. “A mistake?” My volume escalated, and with it, a noticeable tremor, one I hoped he didn’t hear. “No, a mistake is forgetting to pay a bill. You made the conscious decision to screw someone else, all the while telling me how much you loved me.” I shoved him as hard as I could with both hands. “Fuck. You. I don’t ever want to see you again. Never. Again.”
Turning once more, I motioned for Jules to get moving. Shaking with rage over the unexpected meeting, I willed myself to get a handle on my emotions and took several slow, deep breaths. Brett made another grab for me just as Jules and I stepped through the patio doors. He strengthened his grip, hard enough to bruise, making me gasp in pain. He pulled me flush against him, and I could smell the whiskey on his breath. My fight or flight instinct kicked into high gear with each puff of his rancid breath blowing across my face.
“Now wait a goddamn minute. I just want to talk to you. Can’t you give me five minutes of your time?”
“Let me go. You’re hurting me,” I cried, struggling to free myself.
Jules grabbed for his hand when I finally yanked free and slapped him, hard enough to shift his head in the opposite direction. Brett turned to face me, pain etched onto his features, and grabbed me again with both hands this time. My arms ached from the pressure, and I knew I’d be wearing long sleeves until the bruises faded.
“That fucking hurt, bitch.”
“Call her that again, I dare you,” Jules growled.
“Stop being a brat and listen to me, Emmy. You’ve been ignoring me, and that pisses me off.”
“That’s because I don’t want to talk to you, idiot. Stop calling me. Stop texting me. Stop leaving notes on my car, and stop sending me flowers. Just stop.”
I continued to struggle and smashed the heel of my shoe on his instep until he finally released me.
“Don’t be such a fucking cunt. I said I just want to talk.”
“What part of ‘I don’t have anything to say’ don’t you understand? I’m done. I thought I made that very clear.”
He reached for me again, and Jules motioned behind us, pointing to an irate Ian who was headed our way with Parker hot on his heels.
“You just stepped on your meat, dickhead. Have a nice death,” smirked Jules.
Ian stepped directly in front of Brett and carefully maneuvered me behind him. “Don’t fucking touch her again.”
“Beat it, Pretty Boy. This doesn’t concern you,” Brett sneered.
Ian didn’t blink. “That’s where you’re wrong. It does concern me. That slap should have been a clue that she isn’t interested in anything you have to say. Who the hell are you?”
“What the fuck is it to you?”
Lowering his voice, Ian leaned closer, never breaking eye contact. “I’m the guy that’s going to kick your fucking ass if you touch her again.”
Knowing things weren’t going to end well, I wrapped my hands around Ian’s arm. “Ian, just leave it. This is Brett. He’s not worth the effort, believe me.”
“Ian?” Brett snorted. “What kind of rich-ass pussy name is that?” Taking a step back, he gave Ian another scathing look. “Oh, I get it. You must be Tyler’s new fuck buddy. Yeah, you look like you could be queer bait.”
Ian raised his eyebrows. “Really? Can’t you come up with something more original than that?”
Brett’s eyes flicked toward me. “Em? I always knew you had a soft spot for faggots, but is this dude the best you could do?” he asked, disbelief written across his face. “You know I’m just a phone call away, baby.”
I could feel the muscles in Ian’s arm coil as his hand closed into a fist. Oh no. I shared a brief glance with Jules, who looked delighted by the prospect of Brett getting his ass kicked. Parker looked just as tense, waiting for Ian to make a move.
“Babe, please,” I begged, tugging harder.
Parker stopped a passing waitress and bent to whisper in her ear. She nodded and scurried off, anxious to be away from the tense scene. The other patrons gave the pair a wide berth, obviously expecting them to trade blows. Ian lifted his left hand, signaling Brett to come closer. Still keeping his voice low, he sounded calm, but tension radiated throughout his body.
“Take my advice and walk away.” He raised an eyebrow, giving Brett a meaningful look. “She said she’s not interested. If you continue to hara
ss her, I’ll be obliged to make my point a little more forcefully.” He leaned even closer, and I had a hard time hearing his next words. “And don’t ever say another derogatory word about Tyler. Period.”
Brett opened his mouth to retort but was interrupted by the club manager.
“Hey, Parker. What can I do for you?”
“Steve. This gentleman was harassing the lady, and refuses to leave her alone.” He shrugged and held his hands palms up. “Now, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just here to have a good time.”
Steve nodded, giving Brett a hard look. “I think it’s time for you to leave, sir.”
Brett had the nerve to look surprised. “You’re kicking me out? You can’t do that.”
“Yes, sir, I can. We have the right to refuse service to anyone at any time for any reason.” He gestured toward the door. “After you.”
“We ain’t finished, Em. We’ll never be finished,” snarled Brett, pointing my direction.
Steve clasped Brett’s arm, pushing him toward the door. “Sorry for the trouble, Parker. Give me a call sometime next week, would you? I have a few security issues I’d like to discuss.”
“Sure will. Thanks, man.”
Parker turned his attention to Ian, a silent question in his eyes. Ian nodded, and Parker wrapped an arm around Jules, who gave me a similar look before being led back to the table.
Ian watched them leave and rested his hands on my shoulders, ducking his head to look me in the eye. “Are you okay, babe?”
“Yes. I just—” I took a deep breath to calm my nerves. “He surprised me, and seeing him just pissed me off all over again. I’m also pissed at myself for letting him get to me like that.”
His hands caressed my arms, his eyes darkening when he saw the bruises already forming where Brett gripped me. Muttering a curse under his breath, he moved one hand to my chin and tilted my head back. “What do you want to do? Do you want to stay, or would you rather I take you home?”