Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 22937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22937 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 115(@200wpm)___ 92(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Right after I’d dropped her off, I drove straight home for a cold shower to wash away every thought I’d had of leaning over the console and pushing up her dress to eat her pussy.
The ones I had of pulling over and making her ride me in the front seat took a bit longer to rinse away.
She officially holds the record for making me take the longest cold shower in my life, and somehow it still wasn’t enough.
I’d never thought about anyone for longer than a moment after our business was done. Hell, I had clients who I’d handled for months-long cases, and I could walk past them on the street without giving them a second glance.
It’s probably because it’s been a while since I had sex, and she’s so damn stunning…
“Yeah, that’s it,” I say aloud. “Just an unfortunate crossover.”
“Huh?” Rachel crosses her arms. “An unfortunate lunch order?”
“I wasn’t paying attention,” I say. “You can catch me up on whatever you were saying later. Much later.”
She rolls her eyes.
“In the meantime…” I push up my sleeves. “Give me the rundown of potential clients today.”
“You want their crimes or their names?”
“Their alleged crimes, Rachel.” I shoot her a pointed look. “You always forget to say allegedly.”
“Right…” She picks up a folder and flips the page. “Yacht crash in the Hamptons with a potential DUI.”
“Pass.”
“Millions of dollars in property damage from an angry ex-wife who’s claiming temporary mental insanity?”
“I’m intrigued, but pass.”
“A personal loan shark who beat up someone he gave money to.”
“How much money?”
“It has to be tens of thousands or hundreds of thousands if he’s contacting you.” She jokes, but I don’t laugh.
A flashback of that guy giving me a card crosses my mind.
“How bad was the alleged beating?” I ask. “And how old is the victim?”
“He beat the guy into a two-week coma, and then he was downgraded to serious condition for an entire month,” she says, handing me the sheet. “The victim was only twenty-six years old.”
“Male or female?”
“Male.” She scoffs. “Shady loans or not, I don’t think any company would risk beating up a woman.”
An image of Scarlett’s terrified face crosses my mind, and I’m suddenly not so certain about that.
The company on this sheet isn’t the one that I remembered from the business card, but I was curious.
Too curious…
“Next potential client,” Rachel says, flipping to a new page. “There’s a guy in the Bronx who—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Tell the shady loan guy I’ll take his case.”
“What?” she gasps. “You’re shitting me, right?”
“Have I ever?”
“I’m hoping today will be the change.”
“It’s not.” I pull my bagel closer. “If he can afford the retainer, tell him I’ll happily put up a defense.”
She sighs and steps back. “I’ll get you the victim’s pictures and hope you’ll change your mind.”
“Okay, you do that,” I say, even though we both know I won’t.
“There’s a seventeen-year-old boy who can’t afford a decent lawyer and who is actually innocent.” She looks at me from the doorway. “He’s someone worth defending.”
“All clients are worthy of defending, Rachel.”
“Even the murderers?”
“The alleged murderers.” I narrow my eyes. “Yes.”
“I need to feel good about the work I do here, Jameson.”
“Then look at your paycheck.”
“That’s not what I mean.” Her voice is soft. “Can you, like, for once, take on someone who actually deserves the help?”
“Send in the teenager’s file with the loan shark guy’s,” I say. “I’ll look at it.”
“Thank you.” She walks away, and as I smear cream cheese on my bagel, I see Scarlett’s thighs.
The blueberry that’s pressed inside reminds me of her butterfly tattoo.
Enough. I toss the bagel into the trash and order a salad.
Then I open my email to see if she’s finally confirmed her address, and she hasn’t.
She just re-sent me her phone number with a shrug emoji.
That’s never fucking happening.
FRAUD (N.):
THE INTENTIONAL USE OF DECEIT, A TRICK OR SOME DISHONEST MEANS TO DEPRIVE ANOTHER OF HIS/HER/ITS MONEY, PROPERTY OR A LEGAL RIGHT
JAMESON
One Week Later
There’s a woman in this courtroom gallery who looks a lot like Scarlett from where I’m sitting. So much so that I’m convinced that maybe—just maybe—I can get to her after court and close out the simple-ass task of returning her shoes. Then she’ll finally stop appearing every few hours in my mind.
Her face is buried in the pages of a book, and with every page she turns, she slides a hand through her auburn curls.
Look up at me.
I stare at her, waiting, and when she finally does, I realize she’s a woman in her early forties. She’s also a court reporter I’ve seen plenty of times.
Shaking my head, I spot another woman on the third row who might be Scarlett, too. It only takes fifteen seconds for Scarlett’s face to disappear into another stranger’s.
What the hell is happening?
“Objection, Your Honor!” The prosecutor interrupts my thoughts. “Can the defense please make his client put on some pants and sit down while I’m cross-examining him?”