by Zoë Lane
“Please, Mr. Gallagher, finish your sentence. What do you expect?” Helena spoke.
“Uh, I can answer that,” said their lawyer. “First of all, my name is Spencer Thomas and I represent the Gallaghers.”
“This should be good.” Piper smiled when she looked at the two of us. Her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed when she turned to face the Gallaghers. “Because since our client has made no accusations against Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher, you can’t possibly be expecting any financial compensation.”
“What you can expect,” I interjected, “is to never speak to the media again about Landyn unless directed to by our firm. Because, Mr. Gallagher, we have in our possession numerous complaints of excessive use of force and violence against the public and your fellow police officers while you were on the force. We can also produces witnesses that will claim abusive behavior, by yourself, to both Landyn and Lacey during their minor years.”
Abigail’s head snapped in her husband’s direction. “Wait—”
“And you have a boy on the way, is that correct Mrs. Gallagher?” I directed my question to her. “I can say when Landyn saw you on television, he was immediately moved for your child’s welfare.”
“You can’t believe that horseshit!” Carter shouted.
“Mr. Gallgaher!” Helena stood like a regal queen. “Mr. Thomas if you can’t keep your client civil, we will have him escorted from the building.”
“Uh, yes…of course.” Spencer whispered to Mr. Gallagher, who’s tanned skin reddened. He appeared to bloat right in front of us.
He won’t be able to keep that hot air in for long.
I cleared my throat and began again. “Thank you, Mr. Thomas. Mr. Gallagher, Landyn is prepared to keep quiet about the abuse if you agree to keep yourself—and Mrs. Gallagher—off the television, radio, and any other medium. Neither of you are to speak about Landyn or Lacey. Landyn has also requested to be allowed visiting time with his half-brother.”
Mr. Gallagher pointed a finger at me. “He’s not to come near my son.”
“Mr. Thomas, what does your client want?” Piper addressed the attorney. “We never did get to that, did we?” she said with wicked smile.
Mr. Thomas glanced at his clients before reading from his paper. “Mr. and Mrs. Gallagher would like to request two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which is money they would’ve earned giving press interviews for the year. They’d also like regular seats in the player’s lounge at Rhino Field, and an apology from Landyn—on television.” He put down the paper and looked up at the three of us.
I wanted to laugh my head off. Landyn had been right about the money. But only a quarter of a million? Either their lawyer was fresh out of law school, or he was shrewd enough to understand that asking for a ridiculously low sum might be enough to sway Landyn. Landyn’s financial position would virtually guarantee him a win in court, but Mr. Gallagher’s characterization of Landyn was damaging, which would put Landyn in a position to settle.
Except Mr. Gallagher didn’t count on Landyn’s crisis manager.
And I did my homework.
I loved homework.
“Let me repeat, and please listen closely. Your wife is due to give birth in three months so you should spend that time—and the rest of your years—tending to the care of her and the raising of your son. If we see you or Mrs. Gallagher’s face on television, or hear your voice on the radio, see a YouTube spot…we will release our information and our clients will have law enforcement open a case for felony child abuse,” I said calmly.
“Felony child abuse!” Abigail once again looked at her husband with alarm.
I raised my brows, but I wasn’t at all surprised. “I assume he left those details out during your therapy sessions.”
“How do you know about those sessions?”
“Abigail, shut-up!” Carter thundered.
She sucked her lips in, her hands flying to her stomach.
Landyn’s right. That baby’s in danger.
But we couldn’t do anything about it. Abigail hadn’t expressed being under duress. Even suggesting it could put Abigail and the baby at risk, if we couldn’t convince Abigail not to go home with her husband.
I desperately glanced at Helena who gave a slight shake of her head.
Our hands were tied there.
Piper stood with a stack of papers and walked them the length of the table to hand them to Mr. Thomas. “Please have your clients read over these documents and sign before leaving. Understand that failure to do so will result in the immediate action Ms. Mackleby has outlined.
While Piper walked back, the Gallaghers consulted with their attorney in hushed tones. Well, Carter’s disappointment was clearly heard.
“We’ve won this,” Piper whispered to the two of us. “Despite what we’ve witnessed, I suspect Mrs. Gallagher has a lot of pull over her husband.”
Abigail’s mouth was rapidly moving, although I couldn’t make out a single word. Her eyes were ablaze, and her features firm. Maybe Piper was right. She was the brains and her husband the muscle.
But she came from money.
I pushed my doubts aside so I could finish this deal.
Mr. Thomas wordlessly walked the signed documents to our end of the table and the Gallaghers soon left without saying another thing, and without securing a single one of their conditions.
“I’ll have to watch out for you, Rose. You’ll have my partner spot in no time,” Helena said cheerfully, with a wink.
“I can’t believe it,” I breathed. “I’ve rarely felt this alive in my life.”
“Threatening people like a mob boss? Yeah, power is everything,” Piper added before laughing like an evil Disney queen.
“Rose was this little shy thing when she first walked in here.” Helena started down memory lane. “Now look at what she’s become. A total badass fixer who goes the extra mile for her clients.” She looked at me knowingly. “Landyn better have a big, and preferably fat, bonus for you.”
I was engulfed in instant flame.
Piper giggled. “Oh, I know what that means. And tell him you have to tack on some fees for extra services you’ve performed, and you’ll be expecting payment immediately.”
“Stop!” I groaned and stood. “I’m a professional,” I insisted.
“Of course you are,” Helena agreed. “And you’ve earned your payday. Now, you know what to tell Landyn and what to keep to yourself, right?”
I nodded.
“Good. Now let’s get him to game one.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ROSE
I really like being with you, but I think we should probably wait until after you’re finished with your client.
I couldn’t blame Bryan for the text. I’d been so preoccupied with Landyn the last couple of days that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to message Bryan.
Nor did I have the heart to tell him it probably would never happen. Not while Landyn was alive and well.
My mother would blame this all on me, and she’d be right. I’ll deal with her later. I still had a job to do.
I shoved my phone into my purse, looked up at the tall towers of the children’s hospital and sighed. Today was not a day to be in a bad mood. We would be visiting with sick kids, for crying out loud. Landyn walking out of yesterday’s press conference without meeting with me paled in comparison to what these kids were going through.
Physical defects.
Mental disorders.
Terminal cancers.
So Landyn blew me off. I couldn’t wait to tell him the good news about my meeting with Carter Gallagher, but I’d gotten held up after the press conference and he never answered my texts.
Other than that, he’d done an amazing job at balancing his own victimhood of the past with how he felt today: free. A winner. A proven winner. If anything, I wanted to tell him how proud I was of him.
“Rose!”
Landyn jogged up to me, looking like he was ready to have sex right here on the h
ood of my car. Fitted t-shirt, navy-blue windbreaker pants with the team’s logo on them, curls free of gel—I hated gel; made the hair look way too hard—and that grin of his, like he knew a secret and I’d have to do something with him, or to him, to break him.
“Good afternoon.” Ugh, I sounded like I was fifty.
Landyn chuckled. “Good afternoon, my lady.” His eyes scanned my dress. “You look lovely in blue.”
My insides warmed with pleasure. I had specifically chosen a simple blue-and-white polka-dotted dress that I thought would be a fun look while with the kids. “Thank you.”
“Okay, what’s the matter? You’re always this formal, yes, but something’s not right.”
I walked forward towards the entrance. “How can you be so casual after yesterday’s press conference?”
“I felt liberated. Like I’d been keeping this secret—guarding it. But it wasn’t to protect me, it was to protect everyone else. Now I don’t have to keep it.”
“How did Lacey take it?”
He half frowned. “Not sure. She hasn’t come out of her room. At least not when I’m there. I think it’s still a lot for her to process.”
That made sense. “You ditched me afterwards.”
“I know—”
“I thought we were supposed to go over your statement and any fallout.” Or lack of fallout.
“I needed some space. I figured you’d understand.”
I did understand. I wished he’d messaged me, though. It was this constant tension of who was in charge that was eating at me. “Do you have a problem with my authority? With the authority of women in general?” I asked as gently as I could.
He stared at me for a long moment. His eyes clouded at first, and then they seemed to clear and a more pensive expression settled in.
“Did you get that from the GM?” he asked equally quietly.
“Not really. It’s my own observation. I mean, I understand about yesterday, but it’s just the back and forth—”
“I know what you’re going to say.” He sucked in his lips, but his eyes appeared hopeful. “You’re right. I should’ve stuck around. I’m sorry. Won’t happen again, I swear. Whatever you need, I’m there.”
When I remained silent, he continued. “I…” He shrugged. “I might have a slight problem, yeah. It’s true, I don’t exactly respect the GM, but”—he looked pointedly in my eyes—“but I respect you. What we’re doing is working and…it’s made me reconsider my perspective on things.”
I hope that meant there was more to the world than him being dead center in it. I let out a breath and nodded. “Okay, I’ll take you at your word.”
He smiled. “Even though you think I can’t keep it.”
“Joking aside, Landyn, there’s something I need to tell you.”
His face darkened, his blue eyes sharp. “Is this about Carter? What do you think he’ll say? I have to admit I was expecting his response by now. Should we be worried?”
I shook my head and smiled. “He’s never going to say another word about it,” I said quietly.
Landyn leaned in. “I don’t think I heard you.”
I nodded, gripping his biceps. “Yes, you did. Carter has agreed not to say anything, nor demand any money from you. In return, you’ll get to see your baby brother when he’s born.”
His jaw fell open and his tanned skin lightened by a few shades. “How…?”
“For deniability’s sake, it’s best you leave the details to me. I am your crisis manager after all.”
“That doesn’t sound—”
“Legal? I can assure you, it is. Signed paperwork and everything. You’re really a free man.”
He let out a whoop and lifted me up into the air. Warmth from his arms radiated through me, hitting my womb like a shot of desire. “I could kiss you right now.”
Yes! “Don’t! Put me down.”
He complied immediately, a playful frown on his face. “You have to let me pay you back. A bonus or something.”
Helena’s ‘bonus’ came to mind.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said swiftly, before words describing that ‘bonus’ came flooding out my mouth.
“Please?”
He inched lower until our eyes were level. I inhaled as I felt the connection braid, restraining to that spot.
“I don’t usually beg, but I will for you,” he breathed. Warm, minty breath dusting my lips.
I heard my words and instantly regretted them. “It’s not necessary. I’m just doing my job.”
Slowly, he shook his head. “I don’t believe you. I think there’s more to it.”
Yes, there was more to it. It was because I was falling for my client and wanted to use whatever power I possessed to rescue him, to protect him. I eased past him, breaking the cord that our gazes constructed, and began walking towards the hospital entrance.
“Today, we’re going to meet with kids in a few of the wards. We’ll talk, take pictures, and just have some fun with them. Many of them won’t ever see the outside world again. You’re here to…just allow them to think about something other than what they’re going through. Okay?”
Landyn’s demeanor had sobered, and the lines between his brows deepened. I didn’t want him to look depressed when he met the kids, just have an awareness of the severity of some of the cases.
“I brought a lot of swag with me. It’s in the car.”
“Oh, right.” I’d forgotten that I’d told him some gifts for the kids would be a nice gesture. They would probably be watching the game from their hospital rooms, and having swag would make them feel a part of the action, even though they were miles and miles away.
I followed Landyn to the car, which ended up being a large white van. He opened the back doors and reached inside. “Brought a cart full of stuff.”
His flexed biceps looked like they were about to rip his shirt as he pulled the heavy cart down. With a grunt, he set it on the ground. There was probably an easier way to do this, but I wasn’t about to argue since the cart had wheels. Through the sheer plastic, I could see flags, t-shirts, ball caps, bags, jackets, a few lawn chairs. “Landyn, this is incredible.”
He slammed the car doors. “Sorry, what was that? I’m incredible?” He cocked a grin at me.
“I was talking about the gear.”
“Ah, right.”
We made our way to the fifth floor. Terminal cancer patients. Landyn acted as though he didn’t know these kids were dying and probably wouldn’t last the season. For the half dozen we met, he learned their names, autographed Nerf footballs; he even read a story to a young girl who was ready to take a nap but wanted someone to read to her.
By the time he whispered, “The end,” little Jasmine was asleep against his side. He gently rubbed the bandana covering her head. He looked up at me and our misty eyes met. After he carefully left the bed, he came to me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “I don’t know how…”
My arms went around his waist. “Me neither.”
I wiped the tears from my cheeks while he sniffed. Next floor, we visited kids with various disabilities, many limiting the kids’ ability to walk or even throw a football. Landyn listened to the stories of a few of the older children who were in physical therapy due to accidents, or finally being offered prosthetics via a grant program.
We took pictures, which I posted onto his Instagram account. I stared at the man who had held little Jasmine on the bed before he read her a story of a princess trapped in a tower. Even through his smile, I could see the pain.
After our visits, we slowly walked the hall back to the elevator. “I don’t want kids,” Landyn said softly.
“What?”
Lines deepened around his mouth as he frowned. “You saw them. Some of them…there’s no hope.”
“They didn’t see it like that.”
“But they know they’re dying.”
“And they can still smile. You helped them smile today. They are living their lives the best they can and en
joying what time they have left.”
He nodded. “The joy they have. The innocence. But that’s not the only reason.”
“Because of your father. You think you’re like him?”
He walked in silence beside me. I knew he wasn’t. There hadn’t been a moment where he wasn’t tender or lighthearted with any of the kids we’d met, either here or at the summer camp. “You’re afraid.” I broke the silence.
We stopped in front of the elevator, waiting for it to stop on our floor. “My father always made it clear that kids were more trouble than they’re worth. That we were worth nothing.”
“Landyn, that’s so far from the truth!”
He shook his head and looked away. “Is it, though? So what, I can throw a football. What am I without the sport?”
“A lot of people can’t do what you do. What you’ve done and what you’ll do in the future. Being a football player doesn’t somehow make you less of a human being.”
He pointed down the hall. “Those kids…they are worth more, and some of them will never get out of here. Will never throw a football.”
I placed my hand over his and gently lowered it, but didn’t let go. “And today, they met probably their new favorite player. You’ve brought them joy that’ll last them the rest of their lives. Don’t think that’s insignificant.”
The elevator door opened, but Landyn didn’t move. He stared deeply into my eyes, tethering my soul and keeping my feet from moving as well. “You’re incredible,” he whispered.
I smiled. Hearing that, made the wings I’d grown these last couple of weeks stretch even further. “I’ll admit, being around these kids, it does make you think that you have a long way to go. They’re the ones we can learn from.”
“Agreed.”
We stepped onto the elevator. “Will you have dinner with me? I know you’re seeing the doctor, but—”
“Actually, I don’t think we’re going to work out.”
He sighed elaborately. “Oh, damn.”
I laughed. “You don’t actually mean that.”
“Not at all. What happened?”