“Mr. Montgomery, your one o’clock has arrived.”

He crossed to the desk and hit the intercom. “Send him in, please.”

Slade took a deep breath for calm and to concentrate solely on his client. His schedule was overbooked, but when a friend from law school called to ask him for a favor, Slade never hesitated. Pete Troy came through the doors. Immediately, Slade pegged him as the beta in his relationship. He stooped over, and combed his thinning hair to the side in a desperate attempt to stave off baldness. Reed thin and dressed in jeans, a slightly soiled sweatshirt, and comfortable sneakers, he introduced himself and took a seat. His hands twitched on his lap, and his face was all angular lines, giving him a kind look, yet a bit off-center. His brown eyes filled with intimidation and a bit of fear.

“Mr. Montgomery, I’m a bit out of sorts. I’ve never met with a lawyer before, but my friend Trent recommended you and said you could help.”

“Call me Slade. Trent and I go way back to Harvard—he’s a good guy. He told me a few things about your case, but I’d like to get a few more details. Everything we talk about is confidential; I’m here to help you.”

Pete relaxed slightly. “My wife wants a divorce.”

Slade nodded, his gold pen poised on the paper. He always preferred writing his own notes longhand rather than on the computer; it gave the meeting more intimacy. “Can you give me the facts leading up to her request for a divorce?”

He wiped his palms down his jeans and nodded. “She’s a CEO of a major supply company, so she’s the one who brings in all the money. Her job is really stressful, she does a lot of traveling, and I decided to stay home with the kids.”

“How many children?”

“Three. My eight-year-old, five-year-old, and two-year-old. Two boys and finally the girl.”

“Nice. Have you stayed home since your first son was born?”

“No, we had a nanny for the first few years, but I noticed too many problems. He’d complain about her, and finally I installed one of those cameras. Caught her drugging him with cough syrup to keep him quiet. I told my wife one of us had to stay home and agreed it would be me. My job was much less income, and with the savings from daycare, we came out ahead of the game.”

Slade scribbled more notes. “Many families are making those hard decisions. So you remained home when your other two children were born?”

“Yes. My wife went back to work in four weeks because she was needed at the office. We’ve been drifting lately, I know we have, but I never realized how bad it was. She began staying later at the office, business trips on weekends. I felt like I was going crazy with no one for company but the kids, like my brain was getting fried. So I packed up the children and decided to surprise her in the Catskills. We rent a cabin there and she was staying to do some business in town.”

Slade knew where the story was going as millions had before Pete’s. He watched the man wipe his brow, his mouth curving down in a slight grimace. “I caught her with someone. Thank God, the children were still in the car.”

“What happened?”

Pete blinked, seeming to concentrate fiercely on the lines in his hands. “Nothing. She didn’t stop. She—she stayed with that man, and when she finished she came out and yelled at me. Told me to get the kids home and we’d talk about it on Sunday. You know the worst part? I listened to her. Just like I always do. I don’t know how I became this type of person—this complete shell of a man. My wife was screwing another guy and I quietly left to wait for her at home.”

Slade swallowed, his heart squeezing in pain for the man across his desk. He heard countless tales from women, but many fewer men admitted this type of pain. He carefully steered the topic back to the facts, knowing he wasn’t a true counselor for grief. “I can’t even imagine how painful that was. When she arrived Sunday, what did she say?”

Pete dragged in a breath. “She wanted a divorce. Told me to move out and that she’d hire a new nanny for the kids. Said I was useless, and she refused to have me taint the children with my unambitious and lazy demeanor.”

“Hmm, interesting. I guess taking care of three children properly is lazy, huh?”

“To my wife it is.” Bitterness leaked like acid through his words. “She’s missed every important event of my kids’ lives and now she wants them because they’re a possession to her. She doesn’t want her reputation ruined.”

“What was your response?”

“I told her never. I will never give up the kids and refused to leave the house, afraid I’d never get back in.”

“Excellent decision.”

“She screamed and yelled and threatened. You see, she has all the money. The accounts are all in her name. I never even thought of it—she pays the bills, gives me an allowance for the kids, and I never need anything else. Now, I don’t have a credit card, a job, or money. She closed the main account and moved all the money somewhere. I don’t know what to do, Slade. I can’t lose my kids.”

His simple plea burned raw in Slade’s gut. His fingers gripped the pen in a stranglehold. God, what people who supposedly loved each other do. And the kids were always the casualties in the ultimate battle of selfishness.

Slade knew there was no way he’d let Pete get bullied. He was the main caretaker and had done what countless mothers had done—put his children first. He’d pull out the big stuff for this case and not rest until he got him full custody. Fathers were still rarely given full custody, but this case could be a turning point. Worse scenario at this point—partial, but with the right tools and contacts, Slade knew he could win.

“Do you know who her lawyer is?”

“Bronte Edwards.”

Slade winced. “Super hard-ass, but I’ve battled her in court many times before. She goes quickly for the jugular, but this is solid. I’m going to petition immediately for you to stay in the house. I’ll need papers and proof on previous nannies, and anything you can get your hands on. I’ll need to contact your previous employer also.”

“Do we have a shot? I’m a father with no job. Is this even a possibility?”

Slade stared at the man, his stooped shoulders and tired face the symbols of broken relationships and lost hope. He carefully chose his words. “It’s not going to be easy. Most judges still favor the mother, and if she presents a tearful, broken image in court, it may crucify us. I need to warn you, though. It’s going to get nasty and hard. It’s a marathon, not a sprint, and you’ll need to dig deep and fight for those kids like you’ve never done before. If you commit, I promise to do everything in my power to get you custody. But there are no guarantees.”

Pete hesitated, hung his head. Slade waited, knowing this was key to the case. Too many of his clients couldn’t take the long-term emotional abuse and surrendered early. He didn’t blame them—many could not care less about what they left behind and just wanted a clean slate.

“My kids are my life,” he said simply. “I’m in.”

Slade worked with him for the next half hour and gave him a list of tasks, some to help focus, some to help in court.

Pete stuffed his shaking hands into his pockets. “Thank you, I feel much more confident. Umm, I’m so embarrassed, I know about your standard fee, but do you know how much this will take? I don’t—don’t have anything to give you right now.”

Slade shook his head. “If we win full custody and full alimony, my fee can be paid then. If not, this is pro bono.”

Pete frowned. “I don’t understand? You mean free? You don’t even know me—why would you do that?”

Slade grinned. “Because you’re a friend of Trent’s. Because you’re a man who’s fighting for his family. Because you’ve been wronged. And I take a few of these cases on throughout the year, so I don’t want you to feel guilty or like I’m doing it out of pity. I just want to make sure your kids are safe.”

Pete gave a jerky nod and turned his head quickly. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

His client hurried out, leaving him in silence. The buzz of the phone and low murmuring from conversations drifted in the air. A heaviness tightened his chest and constricted his breath. This was going to be a long battle and a ton of money. He’d have to kick in some of his own or his boss would go ape shit. Still, he’d be damned if he let Pete hire an incompetent attorney who only cared about getting his fee. Those children needed him.

He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face. He craved his recliner, a cold beer, and his DVR. Instead, he had to go out on a date with Emma, a woman who might be perfect for him.

A woman who wasn’t Kate.

Still, he swore he’d try. If someone else could dig Kate Seymour out from under his skin, he’d be eternally grateful. Stalking her in bars and stealing kisses wasn’t his usual style. Of course, he’d never had to chase a woman this hard before either.

Slade glanced at his watch and went back to work.


TEN O’CLOCK.

Kate absently rubbed Robert’s head and tried to concentrate on Bridesmaids. She usually laughed her ass off, but the image of Slade on his date kept ruining her concentration. So stupid. She was so stupid.

She pushed away the remnants of her homemade hot fudge sundae and patted her overfull stomach. If only she could relax and go to sleep. Did she still have that joint from her mother? Did she dare light up and sink into criminal activity?

Or . . . she could take out the neon pink vibrator. Of course, the thing looked like it could choke a horse. What was her mother thinking? The image hurt her brain, so she refocused on the movie and tried not to think of drugs and sex.