Page 122 of Hidden Ties

Bored, he twirled an ink pen between his fingers, wanting to get the fucking hell out of the meeting. The weekly meetings were the biggest pains in his fucking life, and that said a lot. It was everything he could do to pay attention instead of fantasizing about fucking Sage on top of his desk, on her desk, on his couch, in his bed.

Replaying her cleaning Matthias’ kitchen while wearing a thong under the tiny skirt was more enjoyable than listening to the briefings of various cases the firm was representing.

“Kent, you’re up.”

Jerking his thoughts back to the meeting, Kent began discussing his active cases. “Leon Andros versus Midnight Production starts on the twenty-fourth. It’s ready to go. There’s nothing new to report.” Kent slid that folder aside, exposing a different file. “All the dispositions on Samuel Foster’s witnesses are completed. Court is scheduled for the twenty-third, unless I’m able to get another postponement.”

“If you can accomplish that, you’ll be a miracle worker,” Jeffrey Hill put his two cents in, which was his worth as a lawyer, Kent thought disparagingly. Jeffrey had the mistaken arrogant belief he was much better than he was; Kent wouldn’tuse his services to fight a traffic ticket. If a case became more complicated and too difficult, he tended to hand it off to another member on the team. Three other lawyers in the firm had been working on Thad Wilson’s case, and all three had found a reason to palm it off to someone else.

“Thad Wilson refuses to come back to the States until we assure him he won’t be convicted of a felony hit and run and gross vehicular manslaughter while intoxicated.” Reaching for a bagel, which Garrett’s assistant had set up for them, he gave Kent a commiserating look. “The DA has been trying to get him in court for three years. You’re braver than me. Judge Carter threatened to report me to the bar if I asked for another continuance.” He dunked his used plastic knife into another flavor of cream cheese, despite there being other clean knives available. Jeffrey paused. “What reason are you going to give?”

“Unforeseen circumstances,” Kent answered.

“Which are …?” Garrett prompted.

“Wilson needs surgery. He needs to get his tonsils removed.”

Twelve sets of eyes stared at him with various expressions, from disbelief to laughter.

“You’re really going to walk into court and ask for a continuance for Wilson to get a tonsillectomy?”

Jeffrey’s skepticism didn’t concern Kent, nor the others; it was obvious they shared the same opinion.

“Yes, the UK has universal healthcare. He’s having problems getting it scheduled.” Kent looked down at his neatly trimmed nails. “Of course, they want him to quit smoking before the surgery can be scheduled.”

“Judge Carter will reprimanded you if you go into court with that lame excuse.” Chewing on his bagel, Jeffrey was a disgusting sight. Kent almost asked him not to speak with his mouth full.

“I’ll get the continuance.” He shrugged. “Besides, it won’t be the first time I’ve been reprimanded. What’s the worst thing that can happen? I get suspended? I need a vacation, anyway. Disbarred? I’ll just find another jurisdiction. After I enjoy a long vacation.”

“I’d find another reason,” Jeffrey muttered, despite not offering any useful way to get Wilson to return to the United States and accept his punishment.

Nauseated at Jeffrey licking his fingers before reaching for his third bagel, Kent focused on the details of the case instead of leaning across the table to him punch in the mouth. Days like this was why he resented Wraith for forcing him out of the Phantoms.

“I’m limited with options that haven’t already been taken. Let’s be honest, we all know Thad is guilty. He hit Samuel Foster at two in the afternoon as he walked back from taking his foster kids to church. Wilson’s blood level was over three times the legal limit, testing positive for weed, which is why he hauled ass without stopping. If Thad’s father was anyone but Theodore Wilson, who has more money than Midas and has dual citizenship, we all know he would currently be serving a fifteen-to-twenty-five-year sentence.” Using his ink pen, he tapped the file in front of him.

“Theodore Wilson can use his money and connections to keep Thad from being extradited back to Kanas City. The problem is, Thad loves the good ole United States and wants to come back for more good times. What Thad wants, Daddy gets. Hollingworth’s getting paid to accomplish the impossible, and I’m going to make that happen.”

“Exactly how are you going to accomplish that when none of us have been able to? You’re going to ask for a continuance—you’re using the same playbook as we all did.”

Unperturbed, Kent gave Liam Nestor an unyielding stare when he put in his ten cents into the conversation. “How many continuances have each of you asked for in this case?”

No one answered. Embarrassed silence filled the room.

“I’m only going to need one.”

“How?” Garrett asked skeptically.

“I’m going for a dismissal.”

Everyone in the conference room burst into laughter except for Garrett, although even he seemed unconvinced.

“You’ll never get a dismissal,” Jeffrey said, reaching for the box of bagels again.

Kent leaned forward, sliding the box away from Jeffrey’s reach unapologetically. “Watch me.”

Garrett cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention to him.

“I’ll give you a bonus if you can manage that miracle. Unless anyone has anything else to bring up, you can all return to your offices. Kent, if you don’t mind, I’d like a private word with you.”