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Chapter One

Dakota

Iknow an asshole when I see one.

I could point them out so easily when I was in school, see the bullies being little pricks to those who couldn’t fight back.

Just like I know in an instant when I’m sitting across the bench from someone during trial. It’s usually those who have more arrogance than sense.

They set off my asshole-o-meter instantly.

Everyone except for Laughlin fucking Chadwick.

There was something about Laughlin that pulled me in. I don’t know if it was his unbelievably good looks or his charm. Everything about him drew me in like a moth to a flame. And boy, did I get burned.

“Mark, another, please,” I raise my voice over the bass-heavy music, leaning my body against the cool mahogany bar. While not exactly a regular at The Whiskey Dam, I’m here enough to have the bartender know me and my go-to drink. Then again, Whiskey Falls isn’t that big of a place. It’s either here or The Lucky Dog in town to escape reality for a little while, and tonight I chose the place with music so loud I can barely hear myself think.

Just what I need for a day like today.

Looking up at the shelves of liquor across from me, backlit with a neon blue light, I can’t help but think of the ocean. The ocean reminds me of Laughlin and the trip to Vancouver Island we took a few months ago. The very same trip where I found out he had been using me to gain the upper hand on my cases, only to have it used against me in court. He’d lied, cheated, and stole; and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t prove anything. It’s my word against his, and that’s what hurts the most.

That, and I’ve also lost all trust in people and my self-respect.

“Fuck!” I slap my hand on the bar, narrowing my eyes down its length. Where the fuck is Mark?

My curse vanishes with the pounding music. I have been so blindsided by his betrayal I feel lost. As if everything I’ve ever known has come crumbling down on me. For someone that prides themselves in being able to spot shit like this, I was clueless. I was too blinded by love—by lust—to see clearly.

I’m never going to let that happen to me again.

“Are you sure, Dakota?” Mark asks as he walks up to me, leaning his strong, tattooed forearms on the bar.

He’s sexy in his own right. Brown hair so dark it’s almost black in the dim bar lighting. He looks as if he works out; his muscles straining against his black button-up shirt. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, putting his full tattoo sleeves on display.

I wish I could see him as more than just Mark, the bartender. I wish I could get lost in someone like him to help make me forget all the shit I’ve had to go through in the last few months, but I can’t. I’ve been coming to the bar long enough to be considered a regular, which leaves Mark purely in the ‘I supply you with your liquor’ zone.

I also wished I could sleep with someone and not care. I would love more than anything to be able to shut off the part of my brain that wants a personal connection with someone while also exploring the physical. But that’s not for me. If it were, Mark would be in the running for the perfect bed mate. But he’s seen too much. Knows too much.

“Just give it to me, Mark.” I use my courtroom voice, firm and demanding. It’s the voice that lets everyone know I’m not fucking around.

“Last one, Dakota. I mean it.” He sighs as he reaches below the bar and pulls out a glass.

I roll my eyes but keep a close watch as he pours two fingers’ worth from the bottle of Jack. “Whatever you say.”

Snatching the glass from him, I swallow a healthy sip. I relish the burn and smoke as the amber liquid slides down my throat. The burn reminds me that I’m still alive. It reminds me that I can still feel more than shame and guilt.

“I mean it, Dakota.” Mark doesn’t even try to hide the exasperation in his voice. “No more, and don’t go getting yourself into any trouble. You may be a lawyer here in Whiskey Falls, but that doesn’t put you above the law.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Or, more like, I don’t want to admit I know what he’s talking about. I may skirt the law when assholes set off my asshole-o-meter, but they all deserve it.

“All I’m saying is, don’t go all Carrie Underwood on Laughlin again, alright?”

“Why would you think that?” I still the glass in front of my mouth, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

Sure, I may have taken a baseball bat to Laughlin’s precious Mercedes when we got home from the island, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it again.

I don’t think so, anyway.

Mark tilts his chin to point over my shoulder. I turn, following his gaze and suck in a breath.