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“As you can see, it’s a reach to try to call what happened, assault. It’s in your best interest to drop these.” Graham didn’t take a seat at the conference table. We weren’t meeting in Sun Steer’s building; we were meeting two buildings over on the same campus, where Vincent was allowed to go. The four of us sat in the otherwise empty conference room, where Vincent glared at me from across the table, next to his lawyer. His face looked healed, minus the tiniest scar on his cheek from when my fist broke his skin.

“But—” Vincent spoke up, but his lawyer lifted a hand as she spoke over him. He tensed at the action; a vein started to bulge in his neck right when she started to speak.

“My client and I would like a moment to discuss, if you wouldn’t mind.” She glared at Vincent, properly annoyed at the inconvenience this arsehole was causing everyone.

In response, he pounded his fist on the table in irritation and glared at me.

His lawyer jumped from the motion but straightened her posture as she frowned at him.

“Of course.” Graham turned his massive frame toward the doorway, keeping a wary eye on Vincent, and I followed him out. I had an inch or two on him, but the bloke was solid muscle. It was like looking at a rugged, beefy, cowboy version of Brandon. With a full blonde beard.

“Do you think they’ll drop the charges?” I asked my new friend and lawyer in a low voice. Graham removed his cowboy hat—because he wore a fucking cowboy hat to this—and brushed his hair back before placing it back on his head. He glanced over his shoulder, keeping his gaze where we could see Vincent and his lawyer bickering with low voices. Based on the way Vincent’s face reddened and his nostrils flared, I’d say things were looking good for me.

His lawyer, though, was clearly on her last straw. Vincent pounded both of his fists on the table before hissing something between his teeth at her, and she responded by shaking her head and gathering her things, refusing to look at him.

“They’ll drop them,” Graham murmured, “I don’t know how good you are at reading body language, but that woman fucking loathes him.” Then he pulled out a small black box, no bigger than the palm of his hand, brought it to his lips, and inhaled.

My lawyer had just taken a hit of a vape pen.

Welcome to California.

“I managed to pick up on those not-too-subtle signals, yes,” I leaned against the wall, keeping our conversation low so our voices didn’t echo across the lobby, “Could you do me a solid and connect with my immigration lawyer? I don’t want this to fuck with any of that.”

Graham winced, before lifting a massive shoulder in a casual shrug, “I would hope it wouldn’t, since you weren’t at fault here. But I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks, mate.” I clapped him on the shoulder.

He nodded, and took another hit of his pen, before pocketing it.

Fucking legend.

The doors to the conference room burst open, and Vincent stomped toward the two of us with his hands balled into fists. Graham and I immediately straightened our postures, and in response, Vincent halted his approach. He huffed through his flaring nostrils, and his narrowed eyes bounced in contemplation between Graham and me.

I was in disbelief that this man was clearly considering starting another physical altercation with me.

Seconds after being humbled by our lawyers.

Vincent shook his head once and spat on the ground, before shoving his hands in his pockets and turning toward the exit. I was so shocked by the insanity of his behavior that I chuckled, loud enough for Vincent to glare at me over his shoulder, letting me know he didnotfind any of this amusing. His shoulders were scrunched high enough to almost cover his ears as he stormed out of the building.

Moments later, his lawyer stepped into the lobby and approached us, “My client has decided that all charges will be dropped,” she held her hand out for Graham and me to shake, “I’ll send everything to the address here?” She held a piece of paper, and when Graham double-checked the address, he nodded his confirmation. Then she nodded her head and followed her client out of the lobby.

Then I buckled over, with my hands supporting my weight on my knees, as I wheezed through my relief.

“Oi, I could kiss you on the mouth,” I gasped, as I stood tall again.

Graham lifted an unimpressed blonde brow, reminding me so much of his brother, “I’d rather you just pay me like everyone else.”

“If you insist.” I nodded, wrapping him up in a hug.

Graham grunted, patting his rough palm on my back twice, and pulled away.

“Are you excited about the new equipment being built for your property?” I asked as we exited the building to walk through the courtyard.

“Huh?” Graham was checking his phone now, his Timberland boots thudding loudly with each step he took, “Oh, yeah. Super thrilled.”

I snorted, “So that’s a no.”

“What do you mean?” Graham’s voice was laced with thick sarcasm, “It’s not like every movie ever has specifically warned society about what happens when you give computers too much power.”