Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“I want to have a conversation about defining us anyway, but I agree. We need to have that conversation before we step into the mix of our families. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight, sweetheart.” He hangs up.
He wants to define us before family is involved.
I’m not going to read into that in a good or bad way.
But between my brothers and Reese, this afternoon is going to be slow, and tonight eventful.
Chapter thirty-two
Reese
My office is off Central Park with a view to kill for. I glance out the window, taking in the view and wonder how many times I am here and actually see it even when I look at it. I wonder what Cat would think of the view. That’s what she does for me. She makes me see things with fresh eyes.
Someone clears their throat, and I turn to find my junior partner, Nate Douglas, in the doorway. He’s young, in jeans today like myself, and looking ten shades of hung over. “You’re late,” I say. “You were supposed to be here at two thirty. It’s three thirty.”
“Sorry, boss,” he says, crossing to sit in front of my desk in a high-backed leather chair, the wood finish is a mahogany that matches my desk. “I have the flu.”
“So you thought you’d tell me that now as you sit across from me, making me fucking sick. That seems like a good lie to you?”
He pales. “I’m hung over.”
“You’re a junior partner. You don’t get hung over and come in late.”
“You’re right. It won’t happen again.”
“Do you have my file?”
He hands me the file I saw in his hand upon entry. “Here you go.”
I glance at it and then him. His dark hair is newly buzzed and his expression is awkward, and it should be. “What am I looking at?”
“We notified the Feds that you represented the client.”
“And?”
“The client doesn’t want anyone else to talk to them,” he says.
“The response, per this memo, is due Wednesday, and there is no case research at all.”
“The client wants no one but you handling this.”
“What if I was still in trial?”
“I understand, but—”
“Prep a letter asking for two weeks,” I say, dropping the file in front of him. “Get me a number and an agent name that I can call now.”
“It’s in the file. Top page.”
“Get me some research on the guts of this case, and who is involved now. I’ll let you know what else I need after my meeting.”
“Right,” he says, heading for the door, and I want to kick his young ass. But he’s not that young. He’s twenty-eight. At twenty-eight, I was already impressing people, not burying them which is what he’s about to do to my client. At some point, he obviously did impress my team here or he wouldn’t be a junior partner in a firm of eight attorneys.
“Nate,” I call out.
He turns to face me.
“What the fuck is going on?” I ask.
“Nothing.”
“Answer again.”
He covers his face and drops his head. “My wife left me. I work too much.”
“Then you have the wrong wife or the wrong job. Make a decision and do one or the other right. I don’t do in between. Now. Not later.”
“Yes. I will. You’re right.” He turns and leaves.
I stare after him, aware that I was an asshole, as Cat would call me, but you don’t take a partner role and fuck around with your work. You don’t take a wife and fuck around on her by way of time or other women.
I dig for the agent’s information, a guy named Joseph Downs, and call him. He actually answers. “I took this case as I was going to trial because I know this guy. He’s as honest as they come.”
“He shouldn’t be playing with people who aren’t, then.”
“I need time to research what happened. Three weeks.”
“One week.”
“Two.”
“Fine, but not a day longer, and I want an in-person interview on the fifteenth day. You get fourteen free days. And you know why you get those days?”
“Tell me.”
“My buddy aided the Jennifer Wright case. He said the wife did it, and I hear you got the husband to turn on her.”
“I did, but it’s too bad that wasn’t the direction law enforcement went in the first place. I wouldn’t have defended her. Someone who sucks would have.”
“I hear the DA made that decision. But like I said, you get a favor. One. This doesn’t protect your client.” He hangs up.
The elevator dings and footsteps sound. My client, Casey Allen, appears in the doorway. “Hey, man. You ready for me?”
“Yeah. And fuck, I forget how tall you are. I guess there’s a reason you played basketball.”
He laughs. “Because I could walk it to the hoop.” He shuts the door and joins me. “I wish I was still living the NBA life right now.”