By Your Side (New York City Fixers Book 2)

by Ally Decker

  She slumped her shoulders. She ran out of steam, and she was suddenly tired.

  "Hey, I'm sorry, okay?" Dante lowered his head to meet her gaze. "I didn't want to make you feel like that. I was just..." He shrugged. "I don't know."

  "Acting like a caveman," she told him with a sigh. "I get that your intentions were good, but this isn't right. If anything, you should talk to me first about it, if you were worried, not provoke the guy you know nothing about." She rubbed her forehead. "Not to mention the guy was about to sign up for the membership here, I'm pretty sure. Scaring your clients off is another thing you shouldn't do."

  "I should, if my accusations were correct," Dante protested.

  "But they weren't. And remember, don't go playing a white knight until you talk to the princess herself." Alicia shook her head. "You made this into an uncomfortable situation, and that's the better option. If he was really 'taking advantage', your behavior would most likely backfire on me."

  He nodded. "Okay. I'm sorry."

  "You're forgiven." She relaxed and curled her hand around his forearm. "I can't stay angry at one of my favorite cousins, after all."

  There was a shadow of a smile on Dante's face now. "You have three cousins. Let me guess, you have three favorites, too."

  She patted his chest with a grin. "You're a smart man."

  "You are smarter." Dante glanced at the office door and back at her. "But it's not about me being a caveman when I tell you to be careful, okay? You're my favorite cousin, and I don't want to see you hurt. I'm leaving the man alone unless he hurts you, but I need to warn you, okay? Watch out for that. For him."

  "There's nothing like that between us," Alicia said, swallowing down the regret, so it wouldn't be heard in her voice. "We're more like friends."

  "That's a slippery slope and you know it."

  "I'm not going to shy away from his friendship because I—"

  The office door opened again, and the distraction came at the best possible moment. Alicia had almost slipped, almost told Dante she was gone on her boss.

  Thank God for almost. Shawn could have heard her otherwise, and that was the last thing she needed. She wouldn't be out of the job, but she didn't even want to think about how the atmosphere in the firm would change. Alicia's stomach turned at the thought alone.

  "You're ready to go?" Shawn asked her, coming closer, and she nodded, walking up to him to avoid him confronting Dante again.

  "Yes, let's go." They said their goodbyes to Carlos and Dante and walked out. Only then did Alicia look at Shawn. "And? How did it go?"

  "About as bad as I was expecting," he said with a ghost of a smile. "Your brother could wipe the floor with me ten times over. I thought I was used to that from Dean, but it's still hard, apparently." The easy way he admitted all that and the obvious lack of previous tension in his body told Alicia it wasn't as hard as he was saying. She'd seen many men who struggled to handle their hurt pride, and Shawn was taking it well.

  "Are you going to come back?"

  "Yes, we're on for Tuesdays and Thursdays for the foreseeable future. I guess I'll have stuff to do in my free time after all."

  She turned to him when they got into the car. "What do you usually do in your free time, though? I know those social engagements are fun for you, but they're still semi-work related, right? So, what do you do just for fun?"

  "I do most of these parties for fun, honestly. Work is secondary, especially since for the majority of the events, we're not even sure we get something out of them, client-wise." He shrugged. "I like meeting new people. I also like to mess with people's heads sometimes. They think they know you because you attend these big parties, and they expect certain things. And then I tell them stories about me, Nate, and Dean almost getting expelled in the last month of law school over a stupid prank, and they get this look on their faces like that's the most horrifying thing they'd ever heard."

  Alicia snorted. "That's not conducive to gaining new clients, I suspect."

  "Well, I don't tell these stories to just anyone." Shawn smirked. "I know how to charm the crowd when I want to, too."

  "I bet," Alicia said before she caught herself, and she was glad the inside of the car was dimly lit as her face had to be bright red. Mayday, mayday. "After all, you haven't scared off everyone."

  The save was pretty weak, but it was enough to draw Shawn's attention away from her slip.

  "I haven't. But now it's Nate's turn, so we'll see how he's going to handle this."

  Alicia shook her head at the thought. Nate could be very charming, but he had less tolerance for bullshit than Shawn and much less enthusiasm for parties. Not to mention he was taken, so it was either playing solo and rebuking the advances or going with Claire, if she felt up to it, and hoping no one would stomp on anyone's toes. Claire was a fierce woman, and although Alicia liked her a lot, she considered her scary, too.

  She looked back at Shawn, who was staring through his window at the Harlem by night. She grew up here and a part of her would always love it, even if her home was in Brooklyn now.

  "Are you from New York, originally?" she asked suddenly after realizing she didn't know.

  "Born and raised in Brooklyn." Shawn tapped his fingers over the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change. "I lived there until Nate, Dean, and I all moved to Manhattan."

  "I still can't believe the three of you live in the same building." Alicia shook her head.

  "It was a good deal, and I guess we kind of like each other," he said with a half-smile. "But the funny thing is, if we didn't want to, we would barely see each other there. We interact more at work than we do at home... Well, unless we're playing."

  Alicia had to bite her lip not to laugh as she pictured her suit-wearing bosses in sweatpants, playing video games half the night. "While gorging on pizza and beer?"

  "Pizza, yes, beer, most of the time. But we don't do it that often anymore. Back in college we were only taking breaks for classes, sleep, and dates."

  "Good thing you did take breaks then."

  He chuckled. "Yeah. So, coming back to your question about my free time, video games are good. Pizza, beer, and friends are optional." He paused and glanced at her before looking back at the road. "We've been talking about developing our own game for years, but we probably never will."

  "Why not?"

  "No skills, no time, not enough willpower to actually do it?" Shawn shrugged. "I don't know, it's more like a pipe dream you sometimes think about but never seriously consider. You have one of those, I'm sure."

  Yeah, I do, she thought, trying and failing to push the longing away. It's you.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  "You're really trying to kill me, aren't you?" Shawn glared at Carlos as his trainer put him down once again. He rolled up quickly and shook his head to the sides.

  "I most certainly am not. First of all, you're paying me, so that would be counter-productive. And second, I think your partners could take offense at you dying in my gym and fire my sister." Carlos smiled with all teeth. "Also not good."

  Shawn grinned, brushing his sweaty hair off his forehead. "Fair enough. That actually makes me feel safer."

  Two seconds later, Shawn was getting up from the floor again.

  "You have to stay focused," Carlos told him. "Never feel too safe during a fight."

  "I didn't know we were still fighting."

  "Never expect the opponent to play by the same rules as you."

  Shawn chuckled. "That sounds like something they teach you in law school."

  "Oh yeah?" Carlos crossed his arms around his chest. "I wouldn't know."

  "Practicing law is mostly arguing."

  "Ah, ah, ah. Don't make that mistake. Never consider boxing an argument. Sure, it's a fight, but it's not fighting in the way an argument is. Put the emotions out of it. There are rules and moves, and counter-moves. This is a sport. You compete. That's all."

  Shawn nodded. That made sense, and it fit with what he'd meant when he'd made
the comparison. "How did you get into it?"

  Carlos shook his head with a half-smile. "You're not paying me to talk, big shot. Come on."

  "I think I'd be better off if I did pay you to talk instead of beating me up."

  "Teaching," Carlos corrected him with a grin. "It's teaching."

  "You're enjoying it way too much."

  "Says you. But okay, let's focus on your defensive position again. Be careful about leaving yourself open and I won't put you down so often."

  Small mercies, Shawn thought as he nodded.

  ***

  "Your brother's trying to kill me," he told Alicia on Wednesday morning as she raised her eyebrows at his stiff movements.

  "Regretting going there with me yet?" she asked with a small smile.

  "Ask me again after I regain the full range of my arm." He took all the notes and folders she had for him and listened as she listed everything. "Okay, good."

  "And Nate and Dean have your lunch hour again."

  He grimaced. "Again?" Those daily lunches were driving him crazy, because they didn't let him forget about the media insanity.

  It wasn't enough that all of his clients knew about it and had felt the need to comment or ask about it. It wasn't enough that three first time clients canceled their appointments last week—at least three, there could be more that the rest of the team simply hadn't told him about. It wasn't enough, no, Nate and Dean insisted on having lunch together every day when they kept trying to make him share his feelings on the matter without outright asking about it.

  "Can you find something for me to do during that hour? Or for them?" Shawn asked. "I'll take anything, really."

  She looked at him for a long moment and then sighed, turning away to her computer. "I'll see what I can do."

  "You're my hero," he told her, and she nodded and waived at him to go away.

  The morning went by quickly. He had a phone conference with a client who was freaking out about his own latest media coverage, which was indeed pretty harsh, but that was what tended to happen after someone got involved in a drunken brawl. Shawn hadn't told the client that, but instead talked him down the ledge and came back with a solid plan for the next few weeks.

  Then he went to Kevin to go over their strategy for the latest break up of a young rock star with her boyfriend who apparently liked to drink too much. The rock star's manager called the fixers right after the split and told them what the client wanted—no bashing of the boyfriend, no war, only controlling the narrative. They didn't want the blame to fall on her, as it often happened in the media. She was more famous, had more money, and—maybe most importantly—she was a young woman who spoke her mind openly about various things. Shawn didn't need her manager to tell him what that could cost her in the media's eyes.

  He and Kevin had it under control after about an hour and a half, and Shawn smiled to himself for a job well done. He got up, clasped Kevin's shoulder, and headed out, hoping Alicia had found something for him to do that wasn't a lunch with his best friends.

  Unfortunately, Nate intercepted him before he got to her desk, and Shawn wondered if he was lurking around waiting for him to come out.

  Great, now he was becoming paranoid.

  "You get one instead of two since Dean is handling the press right now," Nate told him, grabbing his arm and steering him to their private conference room. "Sit. Alicia's ordering us pizza."

  "I don't—"

  "Relax, Shawn." Nate fell on the other side of the couch and handed him a remote. "Here, have fun. No news channels."

  "I can't relax when you're ganging up on me every two seconds," he muttered with a frown and maybe hit the remote button harder than necessary.

  "Excuse us for being worried."

  Shawn huffed, not looking away from the monitor. "You're... handling me and I hate this."

  "We're not—" Shawn turned to glare at him then, but Nate just shook his head. "We're not handling you, damn it. We're concerned. And Dean's dealing with Fiona's case and steering it as far from you as possible. That's it. Don't you think you're being too jumpy about all this?"

  "Too jumpy about this? I'm basically a prisoner in both my own company and my private time. So, no, Nate, I don't think I'm too jumpy about it." Shawn tossed the remote at the couch between them and stood up. "I'll be in my cell, if you need me."

  He was almost at the door when he heard Nate muttering, "Not too jumpy at all my ass," but he didn't stop. He zeroed in on his office door as soon as he came out and ignored anything on his way before quietly closing it behind him.

  Fuck this. Fuck everything about this.

  ***

  "So. I might have overreacted a bit earlier." Shawn leaned against the door to Nate's office a few hours after his temper tantrum.

  "You did, yeah." Nate didn't even look away from his computer. "It's forgiven."

  Shawn frowned. "I didn't—"

  "Do you want to start this shit again?"

  He swallowed his first instinctual response. And the second. Finally, he walked in, closed the door behind him, and sat down in the chair facing Nate.

  "It's driving me crazy," he eventually said when Nate continued to ignore him.

  It worked. Nate sat back in his chair and looked at him.

  "I know. Any idea of what may help?"

  Shawn snorted. "Getting my life back."

  Nate was silent for a moment and then shrugged. "Maybe we've been doing this whole thing wrong, maybe hiding isn't—"

  "It is," Shawn cut in, shaking his head. "It's not good to provoke the media by showing up everywhere. Out of sight..."

  "... out of the press," Nate finished with a sigh.

  Regardless of how Shawn might not like it at the moment, their old saying was true.

  "But," Nate went on, "maybe we could find some balance. You should still stay clear from most of the parties, but if there's something you really want to go to, maybe you should. We can always spin it."

  Shawn tilted his head, trying to remember all the things he'd had scheduled before this stupid scandal broke out. Then he remembered.

  "Yeah, there's one thing on Friday... The Annual Benefit for the Firefighters' Association."

  "Great." Nate nodded. "Go to that one. It doesn't sound like a wild party that can land you in trouble."

  "You never know, maybe we'd have an after party Las Vegas style," Shawn threw back. "Or wake up in Las Vegas."

  "Try to resist," Nate told him dryly.

  "You drive a hard bargain." But the thought of actually going out made Shawn sit up straighter. "I could go to that one, hang out a bit. It's nothing too fancy and nothing that should drag the paparazzi out."

  "We'll check with Dean if the Sheppards aren't planning on attending, but if they don't, I think you're clear to go." Nate looked at him for a few long seconds. "Have you talked to her since this started?"

  "Who, Fiona?" At Nate's nod, he shook his head. "No. Not after I sent her off with Dean."

  "Maybe you should, at some point?"

  He didn't think there was much to say between the two of them. "Why?"

  "To clear the air?"

  "The air won't be cleared until they have their damned divorce finalized," he protested.

  "Why?" Nate leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. "Did she come on to you at any time? Did you want her to?"

  "No." Shawn shook his head, grimacing at the thought. Fiona was an attractive woman, but there was never any chemistry between them. "Definitely not."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  "The problem's that we shouldn't be in any contact with each other—"

  "I'm not talking about seeing her in public—"

  "—and that I want to deck her husband so bad my hand hurts at the thought."

  That made Nate pause. Shawn, too, if he was being honest with himself. He didn't know he was so pissed off at the guy.

  "Well. Maybe you could actually bond over that. I'm pretty sure Fiona may want to deck him, too. Repeatedly."r />
  There was that. "I'd give her first dibs."

  "I'm sure she'd appreciate the gesture."

  Shawn almost smiled. "I'm a gentleman, after all."

  "I wouldn't go that far." Nate smirked, leaning on his forearms. "Are you angry at her, though?"

  "Fiona?" Shawn frowned. "No."

  "You wouldn't be in this situation if not—"

  "I'm not angry at Fiona, Nate."

  His friend grinned, and Shawn could recognize the trap for what it was, but it was too late.

  "Then why not talk to her? It would make it easier to avoid tripping over each other in public or in your statements."

  "I'm making statements now?"

  Nate's look told him he was behaving like a brat again, so Shawn raised his arms in surrender. He didn't really want to fight with his friends.

  "Whenever you do go out, and whatever you say to the press, it should not be spontaneous and you know it. And sure, you can coordinate everything through Dean without talking to each other, but why make it harder?"

  "Our job's easier on the other side." Shawn waved at Nate sitting behind the desk.

  "Yeah, Sylvia said the same thing when it was her, too."

  Sylvia, Nate's sister and the company's former office manager, had needed their services when she'd ended up on page six, caught in a compromising position with Greg Abrams, one of Hollywood's biggest stars, almost two years ago. The story had a happy ending, since the couple fell in love, but Shawn remembered Sylvia struggling quite a bit during the whole thing.

  "I can understand her now."

  "At least someone does." Nate cracked a smile, and Shawn chuckled. Urban siblings could banter and tease each other, but they would jump into the fire after one another. And Nate could front all he wanted, but Shawn was sure he missed his little sister when she was off traveling with her boyfriend all over the world for his movies. Nate was lucky she was obsessed with Broadway and thus kept coming back every two or three months for a week to get her fix, as both Nate and Greg called it. Sylvia called it combining passion with work and rolled her eyes at the men in her life. When she got famous as the girlfriend of Greg Abrams, her YouTube channel about Broadway blew up, and suddenly she was getting advertisement offers and all kinds of cool stuff.