Page 1 of Finley
Chapter 1
Two Weeks Later
AS SOON AS Daniel stepped off the plane, the humidity that blanketed Florida reminded him of why he enjoyed the cool Chicago nights. Then he thought of the hellacious winters and the inches of snow that fell, and the humidity didn’t seem quite so bad anymore.
Maybe.
With a muttered curse, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulder and placed his carry-on down before draping his suit jacket over his arm. He’d caught a taxi out to O’Hare after having wrapped up his final case earlier that morning, and he’d figured flying into town in the evening would be less of a shock to his system than when the sun was at its highest. Apparently, though, arrival time didn’t matter. The humidity was fucking oppressive even at ten o’clock in the evening.
As he rolled his suitcase up the walkway, he told himself once again that coming home—or back to Sunset Cove, rather—shouldn’t be such a dreaded occasion. But, considering he’d left nearly seven years earlier and had been horrible about keeping in touch, he hardly expected a welcome party.
When he’d first moved to Chicago, he thought he would never settle in. That wasn’t too surprising, though, considering he hadn’t wanted to go in the first place. The Windy City had been so far removed from Florida that he never would’ve imagined it could feel like home. Then, as each year had gone by and he’d started to adapt to the way of city life, he himself had started to change.
He’d studied hard and worked harder, and after years of very few vacations and fighting tooth and nail to land a job at one of the most prestigious law firms in the city, Leighton & Associates, he was finally the lawyer he’d spent his entire adult education training to be.
Now, there he was, back where it had all begun.
When he stepped into the terminal, he maneuvered his bag over to the side so he could take a moment to situate himself.Christ, his shirt was already plastered to his back, and it felt like his dress slacks were molded to his legs in a way that would get him arrested if he were outside.
Katrina better be waiting,was all he could think as he unfastened the second button of his shirt and then ran a hand through his hair.Shit, that would take some getting used to.
Before he’d made his way home from the office yesterday, he’d decided on a whim to get a haircut. At first, he’d merely wanted to get a trim off his shoulder-length hair. But when he’d sat in front of the mirror and Stefan had asked, “What’s it going to be today, handsome?” no one had been more shocked than he’d been to hear, “Chop it off. All of it.”
So there he was, sweating like a pig, with weird, short hair he still wasn’t used to and his heart racing at the thought of seeing the sender of that note. He’d never felt more like the kid he’d once been than a grown-ass man.
A successful,confidentgrown-ass man,he reminded himself.Damn these nerves.
With his jacket over the handle of his suitcase, he walked through the airport to where Katrina, his sister, was supposed to meet him in the outside pickup area. After checking his phone for any “I’ll be late” texts, he figured she must be on time, since he had zero messages.
He stepped out into the sweltering night air and walked over to the side of the main entryway so he could look for her car, but he couldn’t see his sister’s silver Spark anywhere among the taxis and town cars lining the street. When he glanced back at his phone and frowned, a piercing wolf whistle echoed through the night air.
No fucking way. It couldn’t be…
When the whistle sounded again, he craned his head to the left and saw a tall, tanned, well-built guy leaning up against the brick wall with a don’t-fuck-with-me attitude if ever he’d seen one. With spiky brown hair and a cigarette between his lips, he was sporting a black tank top that showed off his tatted-up arms, and hunter-green cargo shorts. Obviously dressed for the weather—unlike Daniel.
When the guy turned and removed the cigarette from his mouth, Daniel’s lips curved into a full-on smile. He’d know that burly bastard anywhere.
“You fancy-ass motherfucker.”
Derek Pearson stubbed the cigarette out on the sole of his flip-flop and then sauntered toward him. Daniel laughed at the cocky smirk on his friend’s mouth as he engulfed him in those bulky arms and clapped him on the back in a crushing hug.
“Well, well, well,” Derek said, stepping back and circling around behind him. “Look who’s finally come on home.” When he stopped in front of him, Derek shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “And shiny as a new penny. Fancy bag, fancy suit, and that’s some haircut, Danny boy. How much did it cost you? A hundred bucks?”
Daniel flipped him off as he gripped the handle of his suitcase. “One fifty, if you must know.”
“For a fucking haircut? You city folks are out of your damn minds. Even if you do look like a walking ad forEsquireor some shit.”
“What would you know aboutEsquire?” he asked. “Not like you’ve ever read it.”
“Nah, but I always caught you jacking off to the pretty men between the pages when I’d come over to do my homework. Tell me—were you ever able to reuse a magazine, or was it, like, one shot and the pages were stuck together?”
“You nasty fuck.” Daniel laughed. “I always was the one with class. You, on the other hand, haven’t changed a bit.”
“Did you expect me to?” his friend asked.
And Daniel was stunned to realize that maybe he had—he sure as shit wasn’t the same.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked. “Where’s Katrina?”