The minute his door closes, I slump in my chair and the courtroom becomes a flurry of activity. Reporters rush out of the room so that they can call in the verdict to their boss, which will most likely squash the story because it’s nothing as exciting as a conviction would have been.

“Thank fuck,” I say in an exhale of breath, my head resting on the back of the chair as I throw a silent thank-you out to the universe for letting me catch a break.

“Gotta earn those big bucks you pay me somehow, now, don’t I?” Ben says, throwing my comment back in my face from what feels like forever ago.

I sit up and stick my hand out to him—and it’s such a formality after everything we’ve been through over the years, but I need him to know how much I appreciate his guidance and expertise through the whole ordeal. He glances down at my outstretched hand and just grins, knowing this is the only admission I’ll give that he knows what he’s doing and is good at his job. He shakes my hand and squeezes it a little too tight, before reaching out and patting me on the back.

“Thanks, Benji. I owe you one.”

“I’d say anytime but if you lie for your brother again,” he says, daring me to tell him that I wasn’t covering for him, “I love you enough to tell you that I won’t defend you. I told him the same thing right before I came in here as well.”

“Told him what? That you won’t defend me or him?” I ask off the cuff, so distracted by the chaos of emotions swirling around in my body that it takes me a second to hear what he has said. “Whoa, wait. You called Hunter just to tell him that?” I can’t believe that with his complete disdain for my brother he even took the time to seek him out.

“First question, I won’t defend either of you,” he says with an arch of his brow as he starts stuffing papers into his briefcase. “Second, I ran into Hunt when I went to the bathroom before we started. It piss—”

“He was here?” What did he get, a change of heart, a conscience, or what? Because he sure as hell didn’t have the guts to walk in here and watch me take the heat for him. Anger lights up within as it all hits me: my stupidity, the risks I took, being used … all of them simply solidifying how I already feel.

“Yeah. He was in the hallway right before I came in. We got into it. I told him this wasn’t you taking the rap for him for hitting a parked car like you did in high school. Let him know he was a piece of shit for using guilt that’s not yours to hold you responsible for his mistakes.”

I meet the blue eyes of one my oldest friends and realize how damn lucky I am that despite my preoccupation with taking care of my brother over the years, I have all of these incredible people watching my back. Then it hits me how agitated Ben was when he first sat down, and now I know why. It was because Hunter was here.

“Dude, you’re family … but I told him he wasn’t allowed in this courtroom. As much confidence I had with how well your seminar went, it was still a crapshoot, and the last thing I wanted was to give him a chance to gloat while you took the fall for him if it went to hell.”

I nod my head, the merry-go-round of emotions inside me on full throttle right now. One of the many burdens that’s weighed me down has been lifted permanently and fuck if it doesn’t feel good. Between Hunter and the promises to my dad and shaking this conviction, I feel so relieved. It’s like I’m floating on air. And with Quin wanting to talk, shit, I might just grow wings and fly soon.

“Man, let’s get the hell out of here,” Vince says from behind me, interrupting our conversation the same time I feel his hand patting me solidly on the back.

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” I tell him, ready to shed this stiff shirt and don one of my tees that’s sitting folded on the front seat of my car. Then it dawns on me, breaks through the fog of relief, that Quinlan texted me and wants to talk. Can my day get any better? “Dude, did you talk to Quin? What did she say?”

I see the shock flicker across Vince’s face before he narrows his eyes and shakes his head like he’s confused. “How’d you know?”

What? “How’d I know what?” Now I’m confused. What in the hell is he talking about?

“How’d you know I talked to her earlier?”

I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone all of a sudden, like we’re talking about two different things. “Because I told … uh …” I look over to Ben for the name of his aide.

“Steph,” he fills in for me and I can tell his interest is piqued, his eyes darting over his shoulder where she is speaking to an associate.

“Yeah, Steph. I had her give you my phone. Quin texted me. I wanted you to call her. So what did she say?” My sentences are short and clipped and I don’t care that I’m kind of being an ass because I don’t want to play games right now. I just want to walk the fuck out of the courtroom, which I don’t ever care to see the inside of again, and go find Quin so that we can move forward somehow after my monstrous fuckup.

When he just continues to stand there and look at me like I’m crazy, I hold out my hand. All patience is lost. “Fuck it. Just give me my phone.” I can tell Vince is getting irritated with me talking to him like he’s a dumbshit, but if he doesn’t want to be treated like one, he shouldn’t act like one.

“I don’t have your phone, Play. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”

Unease begins to settle in the far reaches of my mind, and I’m brimming with frustration when Ben beckons Steph over. I can see the worry flicker over her expression as she approaches the three of us, who are focused solely on her.

“Yes?” I can hear the trepidation in her voice, the fear that she’s done something wrong in her new job.

“Hawke’s phone? Where is it?” Ben asks, tone stern.

Her eyes shift to mine and then back to Ben’s. “I don’t have it. I gave it to his brother in the hallway—”

“Oh fuck!” It’s the only word that can express the dread that explodes through me right now. That and the mix of adrenaline as I’m rushing out of the courtroom like a man on a mission the minute everything registers: the possibilities, my fears, my brother’s anger, his never-ending need to sabotage my life.

The problem is I’ve pushed him to the brink, cut off funding when I never have before, and so I fear just how he’ll lash out this time.

I push through the crowd of reporters, not stopping, not worrying what an ass they are going to make me out to be in their reports. That’s the least of my worries. They trail after me, shouting my name, hoping for the big scoop as I head toward the parking garage. I don’t have to look to know Vince is right beside me. He always is.

It’s what’s waiting for me at Quinlan’s house that worries me the most.



Chapter 36


QUINLAN

Our lips meet, and I expected the softness of the kiss, but not the tears that burn the back of my eyes as emotion overwhelms me that we’re going to try to work this out. I knew I was falling for him, hell I might even acknowledge that the L-word has crossed my mind in all of its ludicrousness, but I don’t think I understood how much I missed him until right now with his lips against mine, the warmth of his breath hitting my face, and possibility stretched out before us.

The kiss is gentle at first, the taste of alcohol on his tongue as it softly meets mine. I scoot farther into him, my knee now against his groin, and place my hands on his thighs. He reaches out and cups my chin, fingers directing the angle of the kiss in a way he hasn’t before, and I hate the fact that for a split instant I wonder if he’s been with someone else. That simple streak of feminine jealousy tarnishes this moment until I push it away, but I can’t help but feel that the way we are normally perfectly in sync with each other is slightly off.

I try to forget the thought, try to lose myself in the desire simmering in our kiss, and hate that the irrefutable chemistry that usually lights me on fire when we touch seems muted in a sense. And normally his bad-boy demeanor would be one helluva turn-on, but after the shit we’ve gone through the past couple of days, it’s not. Greed is a turn-on when it’s the hunger of a kiss overtaking you in your need for another, but when it’s used to overshadow the amends you need to make, it doesn’t do anything for me.

And I immediately wonder if I’ve ruined us, if learning about the bet has damaged how I feel about him and snuffed out our spark.

The fleeting thought scares the shit out of me. So I throw myself into the kiss, trying to force the feeling that I know we can find again. I try to gain some control, hands fisting in his shirt, tongue licking into his mouth, nipping his bottom lip, as I rise from my chair and straddle him.

His dick is already rock hard, straining against his slacks in a position that we always seem to find ourselves in, me sitting astride him, but there is no mistaking that Hawkin holds the control of the situation. His grip on my hair with one hand, his fingers twisting my shirt at my lower back, and the hunger on his lips tells me he wants this, and he’s taking what he came for.

I slide my hands up to the crisp collar of his shirt, hoping that the feeling of skin on skin will chase all of these ridiculous thoughts from my head and allow me to enjoy our first time back together. The first time since I’ve acknowledged the man has won over my bruised heart.

My fingertips play with the buttons at his neck and he has his hands on mine instantly. “Uh-uh, you first,” he murmurs against my lips before tightening his hand on my hair and pulling smartly on it. I yelp at the feeling and before I can react his mouth is on my neck, wet heat against chilled skin, drawing my focus from the pain.