by Brynne Asher
I shrug. “Maybe, but he might do it anyway. He took down the MacLachlan mob on his own. Surely, he can dig into our company files to see what the hell’s going on. What can it hurt?”
“I can’t believe this,” my dad drawls from my side and slides his hand through his hair.
I turn to him. “Do you have a better idea? I’ve sat by this whole time letting everyone else run my defense. I’m not saying you haven’t done the right things, but I’m tired of watching from the sidelines. It’s time I take charge of my future. If he agrees, Eli Pettit will have full access to our security, files, and networks. His background is in financial investigations.”
Scott looks at my father. “Kipp?”
I don’t give my dad a chance to answer. “I’m the one with the noose around her neck. If I say he’s in, he’s in.”
Scott gives my father the side-eye, which I don’t appreciate but at least he doesn’t argue and moves on so I let it go. “I’ve appointed a new lead on your case. I’d take it but my plate is full and can’t give it the time it deserves. We just hired an attorney who’s specialized in white-collar defense in California for the last five years. He’s made quite a name for himself and he’s already poring over your case. He’s been in contact with prosecutors this morning on your behalf and we should hear soon what’s come of that. I think you’ll like him. His name is Easton Barrett.”
“What?” I ask. I look at my father and find I’m just as surprised as him. It can’t be. “Easton Barrett?”
Scott picks up his files and stands. “He’s good. Quite the acquisition for us as he wasn’t happy about leaving the west coast. Took me six months to convince him and a hefty signing bonus. He was on the phone with the U.S. Attorney’s office when you got here. I’ll get him so you can meet him before you leave.”
When I’m alone with my dad in the conference room, he growls, “As if this week could spiral into any more of a shit-storm. I’m telling you, Jenny, that had better not be the same Easton Barrett I ran off my property years ago.”
“Dad.” I reach out, grab his forearm, and give it a squeeze. “It has to be him. You practically chased him as far west as he could go until he hit the Pacific.”
“Dammit. Your momma is gonna spill her marbles when she hears—”
“Kipp, Jen. I’d like you to meet your new lead counsel. Easton Barrett. He’s a Texan and I understand you knew each other once upon a time so this should be an easy transition.”
I turn to the double doors of the conference room and cannot believe my eyes.
It’s him.
The man who turned shit upside down for my family years ago.
After all that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, I’m surprised I have the energy to stand, but the need to put myself between this man and my dad is strong. His bright blue eyes land on my father who’s standing behind me before shifting to me and I greet him with the name I know him by.
“Trig.”
*****
The thing about ghosts from the past is they dig up every memory they’ve touched—it doesn’t matter how beautiful or ugly they might be. And I can attest to the fact that, right now while sitting in this conference room, the nastiest and most precious are the ones that hit you in the gut and take you right back to the days you lived them.
As I stand here staring at Easton “Trig” Barrett, I feel like I’ve been transported back to another world. A world where everything was rainbows and butterflies until he crossed Kipp Montgomery in a way you never, ever cross a father.
I’ve stalked him through social media over the years out of sheer curiosity, which was hard to do since he’s not a social media kind of guy. I could tell from others who tagged him that he stayed in California and went to Stanford Law. I wasn’t surprised by that one bit. He’s two years older than me and was always sharp. He had to be if he wanted to claw his way out of the hell-hole he grew up in—no one was paving his way, let alone doing him any favors.
It was him against the world and, then, Kipp Montgomery.
In the beginning, my dad saw his potential and that’s why he always gave Trig preferential treatment over the other hands on the ranch. That is until Trig shot him in the back with a figurative six-shooter—at least, this is how my dad described it. I, on the other hand, knew it was different.
My mother will have a come-apart when she hears Trig is back in Texas. With everything that happened all those years ago, I’m surprised Scott would put him on my case—if he knew, which makes me think Trig didn’t inform him of the ugly history.
“Jen.” Trig’s icy blue eyes slice from me to my father but, unlike the Trig I knew so long ago, today they remain dispassionate and blank. “Kipp.”
Scott strides back to his seat and sits, ignoring the heavy air in the room that weighs on all of us like a hot Texas summer. “Easton is a defense attorney with a special skill set that makes him perfect for your case. He started out in the corporate world and then moved into white-collar defense—he’s hell on wheels in the courtroom and can tear up a so-called witness faster than an F4 tornado. You’re lucky to have him.”
“No.” My dad’s voice—strong and resolute—rings from behind me. “I want someone else.”
Scott frowns. “Kipp, I wouldn’t put anyone but the best on Jen’s case. You’ve known me for years. Trust me on this.”
Trig moves into the room and stands across the conference table from us and casually slides his hands into his pockets. I have no idea what he’s thinking. He’s standing resolute, self-assured, as if the history between he and my family isn’t lying stagnant in the room between us.
I’ve never seen Trig in anything but jeans and work boots—maybe a wife-beater, but usually when he was working our ranch, he went shirtless. I know fashion and can tell his dress shirt was specially cut just for him. No man can buy them off the rack to fit shoulders like his without bunching at the waist into a mess of wrinkles—and his is smooth across his abs.
My father looks to Scott. “I said no. Give us someone else.”
I don’t take my eyes off Trig as I wave my hand at my dad to shut him up. “Easton has a history with our family.”
Scott is focused on the documents in front of him as he mutters, “He told me he knew you. Even better, right?”
My dad starts to move around me but I catch his arm. “Wait.”
Dad turns to look at me and, for the first time in my life, I see every pain he’s ever experienced on his face. The stress of what’s happened to me within MI, losing Patrick and, now, out of nowhere, the past resurfacing like a dreadful nightmare.
I turn to Scott. “If you’re going to appoint someone new to lead my case, I’d like a word alone with him first.”
My father starts to argue but it’s Scott who butts in. “Jen, I promise your case will be a breeze compared to others he’s handled and, with what you just told us about the agent planting evidence, this could be wrapped up as soon as we can get a court date set.”
I move back to my seat and settle in. “That’s good to know, but it’s my ass on the line. I want fifteen minutes with my new lead counsel. Don’t worry, Scott, you’re free to bill me.”
Scott shakes his head and stands. My dad, on the other hand, pulls out a chair to sit next to me.
“No,” I say and he frowns at me. “I want to talk to him alone. Go back to the office, check on the media coverage, and call Millie to see what we can do to help with Patrick’s service. I can handle this.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you to this.”
I grab his hand and squeeze because it’s a slippery balance being Kipp Montgomery’s daughter and his CFO. It’s a tightrope I’ve teetered for years but even after yesterday, I know he loves me. That, I’ll never question. “You want to trust me with your empire? Then trust me. If not, I’ll leave you to it. Your choice.”
Scott has already left the room and my dad glares at Trig as he gives my shoulder a squeeze. When he looks at me, he app
ears as resigned as he does tired. Still, after yesterday, it’s like an apology and a gift when he gives me his trust. “I’ll see you back at the office?”
And just like that, we’re on speaking terms again. I knew we would be.
I nod.
He shakes his head one more time and I have to hold my breath as he strides out of the room, passing the only man I’ve ever seen my dad truly lose his shit over.
Then I’m alone with him. “Shut the door and have a seat, Trig.”
He does and takes a seat directly across from me. Leaning back into his chair, he rests an ankle on his knee as if we sit like this to chat every day. “You wear the position well, Jen. You look good.”
I take in his wavy dark hair that’s manicured and perfectly shaped as opposed to tickling his ears and turning at the nape like it used to. He’s sitting completely still besides his thumb strumming his middle finger, assessing me, and waiting for how I’m going to respond after all these years. “For my sake, I hope you’re a better litigator than a liar. My life has turned to shit and I know I look it. Especially compared to you and your new-and-improved self.”
He shrugs. “I’ve done okay.”
“Indeed, you have,” I agree and lean forward. “It’s been a long time and, from my father’s reaction, time does not heal all wounds. Why are you back?”
“Your father might’ve been a powerful man back in the day, but he can’t tell me where to live. Not anymore.”
“You’re crazy then. You should’ve refused my case.”
He tips his head. “If you think I’m going to turn down a slam-dunk just to avoid Kipp Montgomery, you don’t know me. My goal is to make partner. I was almost there with my firm in California.”
“Then why move and start over?”
He narrows those icy blues and gives me a hint of the old Trig—the one who never did anything without thinking it through completely before he finally relents. “My mother’s sick. I’ve cared for her financially since I started working, but now I want to see it’s done firsthand.”
I lean back in my chair and soften my voice because his mom is a saint who was dragged through hell for most of her life. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
He sighs and nods. I can tell his sentiment isn’t shallow like it comes across, but rather as deep as the black pits of the ocean. “Shit happens.”
“It does.” I couldn’t agree more.
He uncrosses his leg and puts his forearms to the table. “I’ve gone over your case and the briefing yesterday. You created a shit storm with that FBI agent. You’re not usually the rebel in the family. What else do I need to know?”
I think of Eli and this morning and how I can still feel where he moved inside me. Just the thought of him taking me for the first time warms me and gives me all the incentive to get this over with as fast as possible. It also makes me not give one shit about what my dad thinks. “His name is Elijah Pettit.”
“I know. I looked him up. He’s found unconventional ways to make cases in his career, that’s for sure.” He raises a brow. “You let an FBI agent get in your pants while they’re trying to hang a case on you for insider trading?”
I roll my eyes, because this is the Trig I know. I don’t answer but ask what I really want to know. “Are you going to fuck me over just to get back at my father?”
His face hardens as he leans back in his chair. “Kipp Montgomery isn’t worth fucking up my career over. I’ve worked too hard to get to where I am.”
“I know you have but, after all that happened, you can’t blame me for asking. I had your back years ago, even though it didn’t do any good. I need to know you have mine now.”
“What kind of asshole do you think I am?”
I lean back in my chair and don’t answer that because he’s right. He might’ve been an asshole, but not that kind. “I want Eli to look into things. I plan to give him access to what the PI had and see if he can find the trail that led to what happened yesterday. I’ll give him your contact information in case he needs to get with you. I also told Scott that the special agent leading the case against me had an internal investigation opened on her related to my case. I don’t care what you have to do, but use that. You need any more information from me, just ask.”
“You have a convenient fuck buddy.”
I ignore that too because Eli isn’t anyone’s business but mine right now. I stand and grab my Louis Vuitton. “I’ll take care of my father. I’m available whenever you need me.” I take a breath. “I can’t believe it’s come to this, but watch your back. Patrick is dead and so is the PI—I didn’t even know him. I’m not sure I can handle another mark on my soul, especially yours.”
He doesn’t get up but leans back in his chair and smirks. “I didn’t think you’d get all warm and fuzzy with me after all these years.”
I pull my bag up my shoulder. “Talk about a shit-storm, Trig. When certain people find out you’re back,” I pause and shake my head, “I don’t know. It’s not going to be good.”
His eyes turn cold again and gone is the guy I knew so long ago. “Doesn’t matter anymore.”
He’s right, yet he’s wrong. It shouldn’t matter but it will. My father’s reaction to seeing him today was nothing compared to what could possibly go down. I move around the conference room table and he doesn’t bother to stand to see me out. When I get to the door, I turn one more time. “It’s years too late, but welcome home, Trig Barrett. And you’d better be the rock star attorney Scott described. My ass is depending on it.”
He looks up to the side and promises, “Your ass will be just fine.”
And that makes me think of Eli because the state of my ass is important to both of us.
Chapter 20
Itchy
Bree Newman
A damn OPR investigation.
I thought Pettit was only fucking my target but now he’s fucking with me and my career.
My life.
How the hell he knows all that he does is beyond me. I waited years for my shot—being looked over for the golden cases that were handed out to the good ole’ boys club, but never to me. I always got the low-profile, shit cases that were pled out before I ever stepped foot in a courtroom, let alone got any time on the stand.
When I came upon that scene and saw Pettit with Montgomery yesterday, I thought for sure that would catapult my investigation. But when I walked into work this morning, Larry was downright cold with me. We’ve been together now for months and, when he informed me about OPR coming down on me this morning, you’d think I never had his dick in my mouth or had let him fuck me across his desk.
No, it was like none of it ever happened. He told me to get my act together because his supervisor wants to know why he doesn’t have a better handle on his agents.
He turned on me.
Everyone’s turning on me.
And after my time in the elevator with Pettit, I know why.
Everything was going great until he rolled into town. Damn him. He thinks his name carries so much weight, but he’d better watch out. There’s no way I’m getting Giglioed. I’ll do everything I can to avoid that.
He has too much on me. He knows I had a tracker on him. He somehow figured out I planted the evidence. And I have no clue how he knows about Larry and me—we’ve been careful.
I pull out a cigarette, light up, and inhale deep. When I blow a stream of smoke out my cracked window, I see him.
Pettit slams the door to his shit apartment and jogs out, bypassing his government car for his personal truck. He’s carrying a briefcase and a duffle bag. It’s barely six o’clock. I have no doubt where he’s headed and no smoke is going to calm my boiling blood.
I fall into traffic to follow and find that I’m right. He pulls into the downtown posh building with the rooftop pool and deep private balconies that overlook downtown and the Trinity river. He types in a passcode and the steel door lifts, giving him access to the private underground parking. Pettit’s truck disappear
s inside, no doubt where it’ll stay for the night.
My finger gets itchy as I grip the Glock resting in my lap.
Always itchy.
I flick the butt out my window and grip the steering wheel.
I’ll get him back—for everything he’s done to me.
Chapter 21
Trust
Eli
“I just put a check in the mail. It’s all I can do right now. Shit blew up at work yesterday and I don’t know when I can get back up there.”
Silence. The guilt weighing on my soul is heavy enough without her fucking silent treatment.
“Sarah,” I call for her and hear her sigh. I pull my phone away from my ear to see that Bree Newman is on the move and following me. I don’t even care that she knows I’m here, this place is so secure she can’t do anything anyway. At this point, she’s an annoyance. “Look, I’m about to pull into underground parking. I might lose you. Call me after the appointments this week. I want to know what the neurologist says.”
She huffs. “Like I wouldn’t call you.”
I reach out and punch in the code to get into the parking garage under Jen’s building. “You know, this might be easier if we work together instead of clawing at each other for a change.”
“Right. Together.”
“I gotta go. Call me after his appointments.”
Like the bitch she’s turned into while I was working undercover, she doesn’t respond and hangs up on me.
I don’t have time for this shit. I can’t help that I’m here. Can’t help that the Bureau shipped me off to Texas to get me far away from any remnants of the MacLachlan case. I didn’t choose this. As I pull into a parking spot next to Jen’s white Rover that somehow magically got back here from her parents’ ranch today, I feel a whole different kind of guilt. If I had the chance to put in for a hardship move to get back to Chicago to be there for the people who need me, I’m not sure I would.
