by Jane Henry
“Maybe I didn’t want to wait around and see if you remembered to come for me this time!” I yelled. I nearly bit my tongue the second the words were out of my mouth, but it was too late to call them back. Pain flashed across his features before his expression went blank.
“Forget I said that,” I told him, eyes to the ground. The last thing I wanted was for him to know just how bad the wound he’d inflicted nine years ago still stung. But more than that, it felt like a cheap shot. I was an attorney, for God’s sake. I didn’t need to bring up ancient emotional wounds to make a case for myself. I was better than that.
He took a step back from me immediately and brought a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I don’t know if either of us can forget it,” he said, and I knew he didn’t just mean my words, but everything that had happened nine years ago. Everything we’d been to each other.
He lifted my chin with one finger, and his blue eyes, quiet and serious now, met mine. “The thing is, it’s because I wasn’t there for you nine years ago that I need to be there for you now. I’m not the man I was, Haven. I’ll tell you that a hundred times a day if I need to. And I’ll prove it to you, too. I’m holding myself responsible for your safety.”
I scowled. “That’s ridiculous. I don’t need you to do that. I don’t want you to do that.”
He lifted one elegant eyebrow and gave me an appraising look. “I don’t think that’s true, babe. I think you don’t want to want it. And I know you wish you didn’t need it. But deep down? You recognize you can’t handle this on your own.”
I frowned, considering his words. “It was a justifiable risk. A walk down a crowded street in broad daylight…”
“Do you know,” he said, closing the distance between us again, “that a couple of months ago, Sabrina was looking into the death of her father, and Anson into the death of his mother…”
“Yeah, Anson mentioned something about that yesterday.”
He nodded. “And one night, they were just driving home, on a crowded expressway, when a car ran them off the road. And if Anson were any less capable a driver than he is, they would have ended up flipping over and landing in the fucking East River. On a busy, well-traveled road, Haven. Not long after rush hour.”
“Oh,” I said, so softly it was more like a puff of air. “I didn’t know. I didn’t…”
I felt my cheeks heat as shame washed over me. I hadn’t bothered to find out. I’d been more concerned with my pride than my safety.
Fuck.
He watched my face carefully, then nodded, the tension around his eyes relaxing as he read my expression.
“This isn’t about us,” he said, and I tilted my head in disbelief. He chuckled. “Fine, it’s not just about us. You need to be more careful than usual. What’s normally a justifiable risk isn’t anymore. Not as long as you’re Max Pederson’s attorney and the Bianchis are still out there. Yeah?”
I nodded slowly, reluctantly. I understood what he was saying, but… well, I was wary of capitulating to him about anything. I was afraid one agreement would lead to another, and another, and the trickle of attraction I’d felt yesterday would become a landslide I couldn’t halt or control, burying me under its weight while Ethan walked away.
“I’ll be more careful,” I told him, grabbing the strap of my briefcase, which was still dangling from my shoulder. “Promise.”
He backed away again, and this time, reached blindly behind him for the handle of the door. “That’s all I ask,” he said reasonably. He turned around, pulling the door open. “Oh, and by the way?” he said over his shoulder as he strolled into the hall. “If you ever do anything that reckless again, the only conversation we’ll be having will be between my hand and your ass.”
I stopped, standing stock-still in the doorway, my mouth opening and closing like a fish. I shook my head.
Smug fucking asshole.
I followed him down the hall to the kitchen, where I could hear the buzz of voices and smell coffee brewing. Ethan moved directly to the coffee pot, but I veered left, toward the table where everyone had gathered.
Someone had torn the bakery bag open in the center of the table and laid the pastries out on top of it, like a makeshift platter. Walker was busy ripping pieces off his roll and dunking them in his coffee before popping them in his mouth. I exchanged a glance with Sabrina, who hid her smile behind her hand. These men, who lived in one of the most exclusive addresses in the city and could no doubt afford a million platters, were eating off bakery bags with their fingers.
I kinda loved it.
I put my bag under the table and took a seat near Caelan, who was seated at one end eating his pastry in measured bites. Walker was directly across from me, with Sabrina next to him and Anson on her other side. Xavier sat reading the paper—an actual, honest-to-God paper copy of the news—at the other end. Ethan came over and pulled out the chair directly beside mine—because of course he did. I rolled my eyes.
He set a cup of coffee—light and sweet, exactly the way I’d always taken it—in front of me and I glanced up at him in surprise, but he returned my look steadily, and I had to look away a moment later, flustered.
This was always his way, I reminded myself. He knows what you want, and he pretends he wants to give it to you, as long as it doesn’t cost him anything in return.
I distracted myself by watching Walker devour the sweet bread, and I couldn’t help but grin. Anyone would think the man hadn’t eaten in days.
“I fucking love this stuff,” he told me around a mouthful. He dragged his hair away from his face with one hand, and his dark eyes gleamed. “Reminds me of my abuelita. She used to make this all the time.”
“Hey, I never knew you had a grandmother,” Anson said, frowning. He and Sabrina each had plates with their own pieces in front of them, but Anson kept stealing bites of Sabrina’s when she wasn’t looking, seeming to enjoy the way she glared at him.
“Duh. Everyone has a grandmother. That’s how biology works, dipshit,” Walker grumbled, looking like he regretted mentioning anything.
“I think he just means that you never talk about her,” Caelan chimed in. Though it was only my second time meeting them, I was pretty sure he was always the peacemaker in this bunch. “And you should feel free to talk about her if you want.”
Walker shrugged, clearly uncomfortable, and I totally understood. Sometimes there were things that were too painful to talk about, even with people you considered your friends.
“So!” I said, shifting the subject in a completely un-subtle way. “I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I realize that I need to go back to Bonneville today and see Max again. I know Luis is reluctant to speak to me, or to pass information to me through Max, but I need… no, we need,” I corrected myself, “to know what information he’s got. There’s no other way.”
“Actually,” Ethan said slowly. “I think there is.” He looked up and down the table, then stared down at his own mug of black coffee. “I’m going to go myself.”
“Impossible,” I said, shaking my head. “There are no visitors today. Attorney meetings don’t count, but regular visitors…”
“No. Not to visit.” Ethan took a deep breath and flashed us all a roguish smile. “I’m going to get myself thrown in jail.”
“What?” I demanded.
“How the hell’s that gonna work?” Anson snorted.
“Ridiculous,” Xavier drawled, like he was too bored to comment further.
“Actually, it’s not ridiculous. It’s pretty much the only way, and believe me, I’ve considered them all,” Ethan said. He ran a hand through his auburn hair, dislodging his careful style. “I’m going to get myself arrested, and then I figure Xavier’s got some strings he can yank to get me put in with Max and Luis. I’ll talk to them both, and I’ll get the info.”
“Oh, is that all?” I said lightly. “You’re cracked.”
“But why would Luis talk to you when he wouldn’t talk to Haven?” Caelan asked and than
k God for reasonable men.
“Because of this.” Ethan grinned and pointed at his face, drawing a circle in the air. “This is my ticket to instant trust with our pal Luis. Remember, the last man he trusted looked exactly like this.”
Anson leaned back in his seat and folded his arms across his chest like he was actually considering this asinine plan.
“Pardon,” Xavier interrupted. “But what exactly would be my reason for descending from on high to pull strings for you, in this scenario? Religious conversion? My cold, black heart suddenly starting to beat again?” The man’s voice was so dry that I couldn’t help but smile.
Ethan grinned. “Well, it wouldn’t actually be to help me, so much as to make sure I’m adequately punished. You know, the kind of thing you might do to a man who’d assaulted you, once you’d pressed charges against him.”
There was a beat of silence around the table before the scene erupted into a cacophony of sound. Anson and Walker dissolved into gales of laughter, Xavier narrowed his eyes, Caelan and Sabrina watched Ethan with worried looks. I was too stunned to react.
Where the hell was this coming from?
“All I have to say,” Anson said, coming up for air with tears in his eyes, “is why the hell do you get to have all the fun around here, Warner? I’ve been dying to hit this guy since January!”
Xavier pursed his lips and snorted derisively. “Believe me, you would not enjoy the fallout.” Then he looked at Ethan again. “Let me understand. You assault me—I presume the story will involve me being asleep or otherwise incapacitated in order for this to be remotely believable—and I press charges. Then I go a step further and make sure you’re put in with violent criminals, just to be an asshole?”
Ethan nodded. “Pretty much, yes.” He gave Xavier a knowing smile, the same sort he bestowed on me all the damn time. “And we both know that wouldn’t be remotely out of character for you.”
Xavier snickered, almost like the laugh had been surprised out of him, but he didn’t protest.
“Uh, are you guys actually considering this?” I stared at each man around the table in turn, ending with Ethan. “Do you have any idea what you’re getting yourself into? Prison isn’t like some heist movie, you know? It’s not just about putting on an orange jumpsuit and eating shit food, Ethan.”
“I know that, Haven,” Ethan said, his eyes solemn. “I’ve managed to avoid getting sent down, but I know plenty of people who haven’t been so lucky.”
“Then you must know, it’s not a fucking adventure. It’s dangerous. It’s violent. People die in there. They tried to kill Max Pederson.” The sudden thought of him behind bars made me want to lose my breakfast.
“They did kill my father,” Sabrina reminded everyone quietly.
Anson blew out a breath, his humor dissipating immediately, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, drawing her into his side. It was almost, almost enough to make me retract my thoughts about caveman alphas from the previous day.
“I can handle it,” Ethan said confidently. “I have a million IDs, a million cover stories. No one will be expecting me, I’m not going to be there long, and I’m sure as hell not going to be looking for trouble.”
“Yeah,” Caelan said, speaking up for the first time. “But more often than not, trouble comes looking for you.” He glanced at me, then at Sabrina, and when he spoke, his voice was low and weary. “These guys already know, but I did a stretch in prison for assault. But I’ve never talked about the details, mostly because I don’t like to think about it. Ever. It’s like that was a different life. I was a different person.” He looked around the table, like he wanted to gauge our reactions. Every eye looked back with sympathy or calm acceptance. Whatever these men had done in their lives, they weren’t judging Caelan and neither was I.
“The monotony wears on you,” he continued. “Day after day, the same routine—wake and eat and work. Get out in the yard if you’re lucky. Read some books, as long as you’ve kept your record clean that week.” He shook his head. “But the whole time, you’re living with your senses on high alert. Some people in there, they’ve got nothing to hope for, nothing to live for, and nothing better to do with their time than start shit. You never know when you’ll be the target.”
“Wait,” Walker said slowly. “Are you trying to tell me someone messed with you? I always figured… I mean… Man, you’re built like a brick shithouse. The fuck were they thinking?”
“Oh, yeah, they came after me,” Caelan said bleakly. “You’d better believe it. I was the biggest guy there, Walk. They had to establish a pecking order. Even if I just wanted to stay the fuck out of their way.” He looked at Ethan, staring him up and down. “Maybe it won’t be so bad for you. Maybe they won’t feel like they have something to prove. But make no mistake, it’s gonna cost you something to be in there.”
Ethan nodded, staring down at his hands like he was lost in thought, and I let my shoulders relax a fraction. This plan was utterly ridiculous and yeah, fine, I was worried—no matter how silly and unnecessary that was—about Ethan’s safety.
But surely now that he’d heard Caelan’s warning, now that he understood what he’d really be risking, he’d call an end to this whole charade.
The man I’d known hadn’t had a selfless, caring bone in his body.
“Whatever it costs, I’ll pay it,” Ethan said, looking up at Caelan with a half-smile and a shrug. “I mean, I’m not excited. Not planning to put this interlude on my highlight reel or in my post-mortem tell-all autobiography. But it’s gotta be done. And if there’s one thing my former career taught me, it’s that sometimes you have to do things, even when you really, really wish things had worked out differently.”
He darted a glance at me and I looked away, swallowing hard.
“I already told you, my brother was a good man. The best. The light to my dark. And, uh, ever since this whole thing began,” he said, waving a hand in the air to indicate the penthouse, the Masters, and himself, “I’ve just wanted to find out why he was killed. Why they covered it up. This is my shot to do that. And if I can help two innocent men along the way—including the guy Eli died helping?” His voice was tight with emotion as he concluded, “Well, then I’ll be happy knowing Eli’s spirit is at peace, as much as he can be.”
Was he playing me again? Because hell if I didn’t forgive him in that moment. Was he... sincere? Ethan and sincere didn’t jive, in my opinion. Hell, maybe he had changed his ways. A little bud of hope bloomed in my chest even as I tried to quash it.
Sabrina sniffled and wiped her eye. Ethan cleared his throat and clenched his fingers around the handle of his mug.
“Anyway,” he said, in something more like his normal voice. “I have debts to pay all over the place. I’m going to start with this one.”
He looked at me again, and this time I held his gaze.
Who the hell was this man? This guy who was so like the Tad I had known, and also not?
“Be aware,” Caelan said in a resigned tone, “you looking like your brother is a double-edged sword. It’ll be great for dealing with Luis, but none of the prisoners who knew him are going to go easy on you for who your brother was.”
“I hear you. But fortunately, my brother had a lot of friends among the guards.”
“The same guards who opened Max Pederson’s cell the night someone tried to kill him?” I asked softly.
“We don’t know that,” he disagreed.
“I think we kinda do,” Walker argued. “I can’t imagine how it would have worked otherwise.”
“Agreed,” Xavier said. “I think it’s best to operate under the assumption that all other guards could be on the Bianchi’s payroll, and you’ll need to be careful who you talk to.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Sabrina said gently.
Ethan’s jaw clenched, but he nodded. Then he turned to me and summoned a smile that was a pale imitation of his usual charming grin. “What do you say, counselor? You ready to be my defense attorney?”
I shook my head and gave a half laugh. “No. Not really. Ethan, getting yourself injured or killed won’t pay back a debt.”
He bumped his arm into mine. “Why, Haven Wright! It’s almost like you care,” he teased.
And I looked away before he could see just exactly how true his words were.
“Okay, I have a question,” Sabrina said. “Once you’re in, Ethan, how the hell will we get you out? I mean, I’m sure Haven’s a great attorney and all,” she added quickly.
I rubbed a hand over my brow. “I can’t actually work miracles, no. But the easiest thing would be for Mr. Malone to withdraw the charges for whatever reason.”
“He could say he’d had a change of heart, or there were extenuating circumstances,” Caelan suggested.
“Or a benevolent spirit visited him in the night and showed him three ghosts,” Anson added innocently.
“Maybe his psychic friend advised him to do it.” Walker shrugged. “I heard that’s how rich folks make all their decisions.”
“Actually, that’s the absolute truth,” Ethan confirmed. “The whole psychic racket is fucking gold if you can do it convincingly.”
I made a tsk-ing noise and narrowed my eyes at him, but he shrugged. “I won’t lie about who I was, Haven. I’m not proud of it, but I won’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
I bit my lip. There was a part of me that dearly wanted to pretend none of it had happened—that he hadn’t deceived anyone, that we didn’t have all that shitty history. I wanted to admire the guy he seemed to be now, the seriously hot, protective, caring person sitting next to me, without having to reconcile him with Tad, the man who’d hurt me.
“I think perhaps you’d all do well to endear yourselves to me just a tiny bit before Ethan goes in, or else I might conveniently forget to get him back out,” Xavier said, but the smile he gave Ethan suggested he was joking.
At least, I was pretty sure it did.
With his third pastry now finished, Walker brought out the tablet he’d apparently been holding on his lap and began tapping keys. “Okay, I’m finding out which block Luis and Max are in, so X can call in his favor later.”
