Page 45 of White Raven (Nevermore Duet #2)
“Brent, you broke bones in your client’s face.
He’s awake and has a lot to say. Broken eye socket, fractured jawbone.
Nose is fucked. You more than beat his ass, and it’s not that I blame you, or didn’t enjoy watching it, but…
I warned you. I warned you, and you insisted you were okay to represent this prick. ”
His jaw tightened, and his throat bobbed as he looked down at the floor. “What’s the offer?”
“I was the only other person in that room. Resign from the firm and I’ll say I saw nothing. It’s his word against ours. I’m in no mood to defend him for you, as well as get into bed with Arya fucking Brenwick because you didn’t listen to a word I said. I think it’s fair.”
While Wren knew absolutely nothing about the inner workings of law, or court proceedings, she hated to admit that some part of her liked this chick.
She was fiery, and direct. Reminded her a bit of herself.
She was gonna make sure she moved forward, even if she had to play a dirty hand to get there. That was bold.
“He didn’t beat the shit out of himself, Cece. How are you—”
“Stranger things have happened. A guilty dog will always bark first. If he thought it was his only way of appealing to the court, he could have easily done it to himself. I can handle it. I know it’s shitty of me, Brent. I can admit that, but my offer’s on the table. Take it or leave it.”
Was it shitty? Sure. Did Wren admire her audacity? Absolutely. But the war going on in Brent’s head must have been a bloody one, because the look on his face was one of epic proportions, and it did something to her heart.
Eww.
There was a stagnant silence between them all and Wren dragged her toe over the top of her bare foot, desperate to make herself invisible in this tense face-off between them.
They had to have been more at one point than just work besties, because the tension was thick enough to cut with a dull knife, and that occasional crawl of C.J.
’s eyes over her skin made her itch in the worst way.
“Maybe it’s for the best. Deal,” Brent said, turning and leaving Wren at the kitchen counter as he made his way back upstairs. She eyed that saucy lawyer once he was out of sight and squared her shoulders.
“So…how long did you warm his expensive sheets?” Wren asked, smirking. C.J. smirked right back.
“Long enough to know they never quite satisfied my sleeping habits.”
Wren leaned against the counter, folding her arms across her chest and crossing an ankle over the other, holding her growing smile.
“You’re tough, and I could almost say I like you.
But he gave you what you came here for. I know that’s gonna be added to the list of things that are hurting him right now, so that being said…
you’re still on my shit list. If you so much as call his phone from here on out, you’ll need that whole fancy law firm to cover up the very public ass-whooping I’ll give you.
You make this go away, and forget Brent Stratford ever existed… deal? ”
C.J. nodded proudly. “Clearly one of us has underestimated the other. Take care of him, will you?” She winked, patting the pile of discarded laundry on the arm of the couch as she left, and Wren smiled as she turned the deadbolt on Brent’s door.
For it to be hot enough that one was forced to wear sandals while trudging out to find a spot on this beach, the sand he was buried in was cool and damp as Nick Specter watched his little boy struggle with yet another bucket to add on top of his itching body.
“Last one, Reese,” he said, dragging a sad frown out of his toddler.
“No fair! I can still see your feet!” He dumped the bucket over Nick’s toes and dropped down to spread sand over them.
“Son, what am I supposed to do if I have to potty?”
The little boy grinned, the sun making a glowing halo around his sandy hair as he patted down the sand. “You can wear my trainin’ britches?”
“Mama hates it when we potty in our training britches. You trying to get me in trouble?”
“You’re already in trouble,” Evie spat, approaching with his cell phone. “I thought we said no work on this vacation?”
Nick’s brows drew together, and he shook his buried hand from beneath the sand, irritating Reese enough to stop what he was doing and scowl at him. “Who is it?”
“She said her name was Northwood. Some detective? What’s this all about?” she asked, handing him the phone as she pressed a hand to her hip.
“Shit…Evie, could you,” Nick gestured for her to distract Reese, and she huffed, taking his chubby hand and leading his reluctant little form back to the water. “This is Nick Specter.”
“Mr. Specter. This is Detective Rhaena Northwood. Boston Police Department. I’m sorry to bother you, I didn’t realize you weren’t in town.”
“Everything alright? Whatever it is, we’ve been out of town for almost three weeks.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not calling to accuse you of anything or drag you into another bloody predicament.
” It was clear the detective knew exactly what had transpired back at EverLife between him and Athan Kane…
and his former employee that was no longer human.
Nick swallowed, raising himself and brushing the sand uselessly from his chest.
“What can I do for you, detective?”
“I’m working on a case that was open sixteen years ago. I found some paperwork from a late colleague’s investigation, and I was hoping you could help shed some light on some things?”
“I’m not understanding, I’m sorry. What does this have to do with me?”
“The documents I’ve uncovered are from EverLife.”
“I wasn’t part of EverLife sixteen years ago, I’m not sure how I could—”
“I understand that, Mr. Specter. But you’re the CEO.
You’re a gifted scientist, and you may be able to help me make sense of whatever is on these documents.
I need to know what they were doing. And please, don’t try to assume I was blind to all your backwards shit with Dahlia Van Hausen and Conrad Stratford.
We’ve already protected you from that backlash for your help with Sarah St. James. I’m only asking for your expertise.”
Something tight and nervous flipped his stomach and knotted itself into a ball of anxiety. “Are you implying you’ll blackmail me if I don’t help you, detective?”
“I’m not a dirty cop, Specter. But I am a detective. I chase the clues, and I bring in the bad guy. You’re not a bad guy. You got mixed up with them, and I’m willing to help it stay that way. I’m just asking for some clarity so that I can solve a cold case. Can I count on you?”
“The bad guys are dead. Are you gonna be a reason that more bad guys come after me for my lack of keeping myself out of trouble? I’ve got a family, detective.
I’ve already put them through enough. I almost lost my house, I’ve been blackmailed by a senator, used as a pawn by an undead witch, and nearly offed by your very short-fused partner and his girlfriend.
I’d rather be buried under my kid’s sandcastle than under whatever darkness seems to bury Boston. ”
The detective clicked her tongue, sighing as if she understood.
The edge in her voice suggested she was just as tired of all of it as he was.
“I don’t blame you, Nick. I’m not asking you to leave your hideaway, either.
If you could go through the scans I’m sending you and make time to call me, I’ll let you get back to your life. I need your help. Please…”
Nick rubbed the sand between his fingers and sighed through his nose as he stared at his wife and kid chasing each other through the crystal-clear tide. “Alright. Send them over. I’ll have a look and give you a call tomorrow.”
“Thank you. We’ll be in touch. Enjoy Aruba.”
His mouth dropped open, and he glanced around him, stunned. “Wait…how did you know—”
Call ended.