by Dakota Gray
Third shifts beside me. “You got lucky today. Next time—”
“I'll hold you in contempt if I even think you're lying to me,” Jenkins finishes and that's better than any threat the prosecutor could have thrown at me.
I shrug. “I'm not the one perverting justice here.” I make sure to throw a disgusted glare of my own at Third. “Now can we finish this argument in court?”
He brushes past me without another word. Jenkins is slower to rise. “He's going to give you hell, you know that right?”
“He always tries. At some point he has to be tired of losing to me.”
The judge does his best to hide his smile, but I catch it.
Normally I would bask in the small win, but I still have to face down a pissed off Kennedy.
*****
“Sit,” I order. “Don't talk to anyone.”
Gabriel pushes his shoulders back and lifts his chin. I'm not in the mood for bravado or rebellion. I stuck my neck out for this kid and I don't know why. I'll get to that after I speak to Kennedy.
We're crowding the lobby of her office. It's pushing six at night. Her secretary is pretending to be busy while checking me out. The place is nice, really nice. A line of chairs curves along two walls. Her logo, a black and red gavel, is imprinted on a large area rug that runs from the door to the front desk. The art is forgettable office art.
It’s a nice place to wait for Kennedy to kick my ass.
“Why?” Gabriel asks. “You lied for me, and I want to know why.”
He's not my first innocent client. I don't somehow see myself in him. When I was his age, I had two friends who had my back. I was headed down the fast-track to a law degree—exactly what was expected of me.
And this kid...As far as I know his father isn't hardhearted. Gabriel also has Preston in his corner. His family is blood, not people he chose. We're nothing alike.
I step into his face. “Because my client was dumb enough to go on Instagram and make a joke when he's being investigated for murder. I should have let them throw you back in county. Do you take this for a joke? Your friend is dead and you find it all funny?”
Gabriel drops his gaze. “I was just—”
“I don't need excuses. When we're done here, we're deleting everything. Have you talked to anyone about your case?”
“I did like you said. I haven’t even talked to Uncle P about it. Trevor asks me and I change the subject. I thought—”
“I think for you. That’s why your uncle put me on your case.”
“Why did you take it?”
“It’s a bribe. I keep you out of prison and I become senior partner.”
He glances up at me. “So you don’t care?”
“If I didn’t look at you and see a puppy, I would have let them take you to county. Now shut up and look grateful.”
He blinks at me looking just like a kicked puppy.
“Kennedy can see you now,” comes from behind me.
I blank my face and head to her office. Her desk is covered with boxes and any spare surface has bundles of papers kept together with thick rubber bands. The woman herself is sitting cross-legged on the floor situating the bundles in orderly piles.
“So am I to believe you've lost your ever-loving mind?” She doesn't look up to ask me this but her voice vibrates with anger.
I close the door. “Thank you.”
She glances up at that. The hard glint in her gaze knocks me back a step. “You used me when you lied in court for a murderer. Is that what it means to be wit—”
“No.”
She looks at my face then shakes her head. “I don’t want him here around me or my employees. I still can’t believe I covered for him.”
“You covered for me.” The look she cuts my way makes my insides tighten. “He’s not a danger to you or your employees. You have my word.”
Her scoff cuts into me. “Then here's how things are going to go.” Her face flushes. “My rep is on the line. I can't send him to clients. I can't send him to the courthouse either. He’ll be an employee on paper. And, you, Duke Alexander, are going to be personally responsible for his every moment.”
“Come again?”
“Sure. Let me say it in simpler terms. You will take shits together, eat meals together. When you're not at work, he doesn't leave your sight.”
“Excuse me?”
“You dragged me into this and it's going to fall back on me if he jaywalks. Hell, gets convicted. Given he's one of your clients, he probably did it. He probably killed scores of people and this is the first time they had enough evidence to arrest him.” She pulls a hand through her hair. “Do you know how long it took for the firms in this area to take me seriously? Then to trust me? It's not going to come crashing down because you always have to win, even if that means lying.” Her face darkens to a deep crimson. “Have Bridget walk him through the paperwork and backdate it to a week ago.”
She refuses to look at me again as I continue to stand there, and I can't get my feet to move. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to demand this.” I don’t get why she’s so pissed. This is a five kind of situation and she’s giving me twenty.
“If that’s how you start your preamble then you know that’s exactly what you’re saying.”
She’s asking me to shadow a client, to care more about him than I would any other. I’ve already done that by lying on record. Anything more and I—I don’t know what that means.
“Kennedy, I...”
And then it hits me. Apparently I am wrapped up in my own hubris. Rebecca was stabbed, and as far as Kennedy knows, I’ve brought the girl’s murderer into her place of business, her life. I’ve already made her lie on his behalf. I can tell her Gabriel didn’t do it, but she likely won’t believe me until she sees the boy for herself.
“Kennedy, you should meet Gabriel.”
That makes her look at me again. “Does it matter?”
She lives in the black and white. Innocence makes all the all the difference. “For you, yes.”
I don’t know what she reads in my face, but her shoulders lower. She pushes aside papers then sighs. “Fine. Bring him back here.”
Gabriel is once again sitting with his hands clasped together. I crook my finger at him and within seconds he's following me back down the hallway. Kennedy is leaning against her desk, arms crossed—ready for battle and to face a man like the one who killed her mother.
“Gabriel Lance this is Kennedy Mclane. She saved our asses today.”
“Thank you, ma'am. It's very nice to meet you.”
Without the douchebag bangs, he looks his age and presentable. Since puberty isn't done with him he still looks like a kid. The moment Kennedy sees that, she drops her arms.
“Dammit, Duke.” A part of me relaxes at the epithet. That's until she turns her attention to me. “You didn’t lie to win.”
I still don’t know what the fuck happened when I glanced at him in the courtroom. I play dirty and without remorse, but I play within the confines of the rules.
Whatever. I did it and all I want is for Kennedy to keep looking at me with wide eyes like I wear a cape in my off time.
“Kennedy, is he still spending every waking hour with me?”
“What?” Gabriel sputters.
“I’m negotiating one of the conditions she gave me. We are to be joined at the hip. So don't be too grateful to her just yet. I work an insane amount of hours and you're going to be my bitch if that’s what she needs.”
“What?” Gabriel sputters.
“Yeah.” I can dig up a smile because his reaction was mine when Kennedy dropped her conditions. “She looks sweet, but she's a hardass. She won't hesitate to say I blackmailed her. I don’t think she realizes where I plan to go and who I want to spend time with after hours.” I focus on Kennedy. “If he's attached to my hip that means we can't—”
Red is my favorite color and that’s the shade she turns. “Duke!”
We’re not supposed to talk dirty in fron
t of the kid. That’s so cute.
I shrug and take in Gabriel. His head is whipping back and forth between myself and Kennedy. I don't want him getting any ideas. “Go back out and sit down. Wait. Give me your phone. I'm not sure I can trust you anymore. I’ll finish negotiating the terms of your employment.”
He grumbles on his way out. I wait until he closes the door behind him to accost Kennedy. Her fingernails dig into my neck, the only sign she's pissed, but her mouth is parted, waiting for me.
She breaks for air a minute later. “I'm still mad.”
She’s mad because I brought someone suspected of murder into her enclave. I represent clients who are bad guys.
What does it cost her to get in my bed, let me touch her, kiss her?
I’m still not ready for the answer to that unasked question.
Instead, I say, “Is he still spending every waking moment with me?”
“No. Dammit. He’s not guilty. I’m going to actually put him to work. I don’t—”
“I’m cooking dinner tonight,” I interrupt her. “My place.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Is this an apology? I didn't think you knew what that was either.”
I push against her chest and put more space between us. “I don't know. My house has all the fun toys. You'll like my toys. Be there at eight.”
She leans against her desk again, shaking her head. “How did you know I would say yes? You could have gotten into so much trouble if I didn’t back you.”
The thought had crossed my mind. “I didn't know.” I hoped.
“Then why did you do it?”
Why do I keep believing in hope when all it does is disappoint me? How do I even begin to answer that? How do I explain something I’ve questioned for years? I just knew Kennedy would save my ass. Sure, she’s a soft touch, but I trampled all over her single weakness. Most people lash out and put up every defense they have. She pushed past it to trust me.
Why?
I don’t know so I can only choose my words carefully to answer her question. “I gave your name to the court because you were the most logical option.”
That's not what she wants to hear, and when she rolls her eyes I know my bullshit answer has further pissed her off.
“Do you honestly believe the world will end if you have a soft spot?”
The better question is when haven’t I been sucker punched the moment I let my guard down? I walk over to her office door and open it. “See you at eight.”
I stroll away from her knowing laughter. Pro Bono Boy is counting carpet threads or something since I've taken his phone. He's up the moment I pass him to the door.
“Did you fill out the paperwork?” I ask.
“Yes. You were alone with her for a while.” The question comes three seconds later when he scrounges up enough courage. “Is she your girlfriend?”
“It's complicated. Am I dropping you off at home or with Preston?”
“Home. Uncle P is coming by later.” It takes him five seconds to gain more courage. “Does she lie for you often?”
“No.”
“She seems nice,” he says.
From the way he says it, Kennedy is too nice to be with a guy like me. “And that means what?”
“Some women go for the bad boy type, I guess.”
“I'm not following,” I lie with ease, “and I don't think I care to get relationship advice from someone who barely has nut hairs.”
He faces me and smiles. “You do think I'm innocent. You'd say accused murderer.”
“You look like a cherub baby. Sue me for thinking you don't have the guts to kill someone.”
He shrugs. “I'm just going to say Uncle P is close to me because he doesn't have kids. Never stayed married long enough. Worked too much to make the time. You're a lot like him.”
I liked Preston because he reminded me of my father without being my father. He had a humanity to him while being a damn fine attorney. Apparently that still isn't enough. He was supposed to have a woman he loved, a family to dote on and whatever the fuck else.
“You're telling me this why, Pro Bono Boy?”
He glances up, not at all flinching at the moniker, his Adam's apple poking out. “I messed up with Rebecca. She made hints about the formal, about prom. She kissed me grad night. I just kept thinking high school sweethearts only happen in movies. By the time I realized I should have tried, she'd moved on. And now...”
He's using his winter formal and prom as an example of a big life moments.
“I already received the advice I shouldn't fuck up.”
He shakes his head. “I'm asking what are you waiting for? What more do you need? You like her enough to kick me out of the office to do...whatever.”
I button my coat and step into his personal space. “You know what's going to keep me up at night?”
“What?”
“Why I lied for you. Your whole life has had protective padding. I haven't met your father yet, but I suspect he showed up to Open House Nights and other pointless shit. He gave you encouragement. When he didn't step up, you had an uncle to bring up the rear. Your mom’s life has been cut short.” He sucks in air like I’ve hit him. “Yeah. There are no pictures of her in your father’s house. Only takes one guess to know your mother died. It’s too painful to have her as a reminder. That sucks. No question. But you've been loved by everyone in your life. Don't ever think you can give me life advice.”
It takes that moment to get why I did what I did. Gabriel's world is safe. It makes sense. Only bad guys go to jail. He's like Kennedy. That dumbass good guy wanted to protect his world view.
I'm going soft and it's all her fucking fault. It started when she stood in my damn driveway. I haven’t felt the same since.
Gabriel’s eyes has a sheen to them when he asks, “So...you care about me?”
I hit the unlock button on my SUV. “Shut up and get in the car.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Your mother called.” Gwen tells me this without bothering to look up from her computer.
“Do I have anything pressing at the moment?”
“Nope. You can call her right now.”
She’s lying. I rarely have a free moment, especially when I’ve had to go to court. “Are you just going to hold my calls hostage until I do?”
“Yup.”
Our relationship isn’t warm and fuzzy but she takes care of me. “Remind me to request a raise for you.”
She pushes her blonde hair back over her shoulders, the gesture filled with pride. “I have a reminder scheduled for the 30th.”
Given it’s Gwen, I doubt she’s joking. I close my office door, settle in at my desk for a moment then dial my mother’s cell.
“Corey came to me with his tail between his legs and apologized.”
“Good to hear.”
“Do I want to know what you said to him?”
I consider all the ways I can answer. “I asked nicely.”
Her laugh is sharp and bitter. “Your father asked nicely, too. Usually with some kind of blackmail hanging over the question mark.”
My jaw clenches. “You asked for my help.”
“I didn’t ask for you to blackmail him.”
She hadn’t. I refuse to let the guilt nip at me. I inhale and force myself to let her words go. “Do you need anything else?”
“Duke...” I can almost see the way she brings her gaze up, shake her head and force herself to let go of my stubbornness. My family puts the fuck in dysfunction. The k is silent in case anyone is confused.
My mother asks, “Are you rushing me off the phone? Have plans again?”
“As a matter of fact I do. It’s my turn, again, to cook for a date.”
“You sound happy. When can I meet her?”
“Never.”
My mother laughs. “Fine. Tell me about her.”
“She’s smart, kind, calls me on my shit, loves to cook, and probably has groupies in various legal firms because she has the best smile.”
“You told me everything but her name.”
“Kennedy Mclane. Well-known in most legal circles so you might have met her in passing.”
“Hmm,” is all she says to that. “Are you being nice to her?”
I flip my hand up in exasperation. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Because this is the first woman I’ve heard you talk about like this. Don’t scare her away. I’m starting to want grandkids to spoil.”
I think my nuts recede into my stomach. “Cart before the horse.”
“You should start thinking about the next step.”
I pull the phone away from my ear to glare at it. I’m not having this conversation with my mother. “Feeding her is the next step.”
“You’re going to be frustrating at this line of questioning, aren’t you?”
“Wholeheartedly.”
She laughs. “I love you, Duke.”
Madison Heather Alexander is as problematic as they come. She’s not perfect by any means. She should have found a man to be a good father and husband. The way my father treated me as something to tolerate should have made her love him less.
But I know what love is. I’d feed my cousin his tongue for screwing with her. I’d forgive her for all the ways she let me down.
I tell her, “Love you, Mom.”
Her gasp is so fake I laugh. She follows it up with, “You said it out loud?”
“Happens once a decade. You should have recorded it while you had the chance.”
The line goes quiet. “Don’t be scared to say it.”
I get off the phone with her after that. What could I say in response? My gut lives somewhere in my throat almost every day because I don’t know what’s going on in my life. I finally know what happy feels like.
And I know something is going to fuck it up.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kennedy takes a bite of the spinach and goat cheese-stuffed mushrooms. I love the way she looks at me after she consumes something I've made. She's tasted everything on her plate—roasted potatoes, stuffed mushrooms, and baked lobster tails and her expression is the same after the first bite. I am the sun. I dictate the trajectory of fucking planets.