Chapter 10
Chris
Idrop onto my couch and run my hand through my wet hair. Raising the glass of bourbon to my lips, I take a sip, letting the liquor seep into my muscles and relax away the tension from the day. And hell, really, my life.
Today was a special kind of self-induced torture that I didn’t know if I was going to be able to withstand. What possessed me to spend the entire day with Lily, I have no idea.
Liar.
I huff out a breath of exasperation at my reproachful thought. I do know. I know exactly why I stayed. Why I tried to do everything I could to keep us in close proximity to each other. Why I found any excuse to touch her.
On the one hand, it doesn’t make sense, because what the fuck am I doing? She’s my client. And her husband was just murdered. Possibly by her, if the cops’ theory is correct. And yet…on the other hand, it makes perfect sense why I did that.
Because I’m an idiot with a dick.
It’s been a while since I’ve been laid. I’m pretty sure that’s it. Plus, the whole unintentional damsel in distress, me swooping in to protect her against the detectives, and her being one of the sexiest women I’ve ever seen. Most likely some combination of all those things.
I drop my head back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling, contemplating the predicament I’m in.
Though, is it really a predicament if I know I can’t and won’t act on it?
It’s more a discomfort that I’m in because I’m pretty certain there’s no way of ignoring my attraction to Lily. So I’ll just have to grin and bear it.
A smarter man than I would make sure to spend the least amount of time with her so he could make sure to stick to that.
But I’m not that smart because I’m pretty sure I’ll be right back there in no time. As long as I can continue to think of valid excuses to skip work for entire days at a time so I can spend time with Lily.
A meow and claws digging into my thigh have my head popping up. “Hank, can you not be an asshole?”
I receive a meow in response, and I run a hand down my cat’s back. He arches into my touch.
“See? This is how you be a nice cat.”
He sits and tilts his head, as if trying to figure out what I’m saying. Even though I know he damn well knows exactly what I’m saying to him.
I take a sip of bourbon, enjoying the liquor burning down my throat. “You ever been attracted to someone you shouldn’t be, Hank?”
Meow. He flips onto his back, curling around, trying to entice me to rub his belly, probably so he can attack my hand. It’s this fun game we like to play.
I oblige, and his long, soft fur engulfs my fingers. “Yeah, I know. You’re too smart for that.”
The sound of my phone vibrating on my glass coffee table is loud in my silent condo. Hank jumps off the couch, leaving me to deal with whatever awaits me. Swiping my phone with a grunt, I unlock the screen and read the text.
Connor: See you in an hour? You missed last time, you asshole.
I sigh and roll out my neck. Years ago, when I was early in my career, I was suckered into joining a poker night a couple of times a month with some other attorneys and the occasional judge.
I’ve never been able to extract myself from it.
And at this point, I don’t know if I want to.
We all know that nothing that happens during a game will be leaked or shared outside of those walls.
We don’t all like each other, but we respect each other and the sanctity of the group.
And we’ve developed a blindness to the illegality of our game.
I text him back that I’ll be there and stand, stretching my back. Slamming the rest of my drink, I leave the glass on my coffee table and go to change clothes.
Forty-five minutes later, I drop heavily into the open seat and nod a greeting to the other men gathered around the table. It isn’t always men. We have a fair share of women who join us, but tonight it looks like none of them will be.
“Rivers, good to see you,” Connor greets me.
Connor and I used to be really good friends since we got our first jobs after finishing law school.
Neither of us knew what we were doing, and we both leaned on each other as we navigated the cutthroat environment of high-end law firms. We had a falling-out when I left defense work, and while we’ve stayed friendly, we’ve never gotten back to the closeness we used to have.
I shake his hand with a slap on his shoulder. “Thanks, man. Good to see you too. You the organizer tonight?”
No one actually knows who started this group, nor do we have an official organizer.
After someone has come enough times, they just get worked into the rotation of organizers and take their turn heading up a game.
We’ve never had anyone push back or not take up the reins when it was passed to them.
It’s just this unstated understanding between all of us.
It also helps that this is by invitation only, so people tend to know what they are getting into when they show up.
Plus, being the organizer is a pretty easy job.
It’s mostly making sure someone’s the designated dealer for every table, collecting the bets, and handing out the chips and winnings.
They also make sure nothing gets too heated.
There are some people in this group who really hate losing.
“Yep, got the text last week letting me know I was up.” He raises a hand and motions for the bartender to come over.
We always play in the same bar, and the owner closes it down for us. Another secret is why we come to this bar. But we all do our part to spend as much money as possible so we can make it worth their while, and they let us keep coming back.
I place my order and hand Connor my money. As I’m waiting for everyone else to arrive and get settled in so we can start, my mind wanders back to Lily. I wonder what she’s up to tonight, and how she’ll spend her evenings going forward. I think about her, alone in the hotel room.
There’s an undercurrent of distress, thinking of what could happen to her if someone found out she’s staying there.
The worry that whoever came after her husband might try to find her leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
I don’t know how to tell her I worry she isn’t safe without causing her unnecessary anxiety if I’m wrong.
Which is why I insisted the hotel keep her room in my name with my card on file.
“Alright, fellas,” Connor calls out. “Everyone’s here, and everyone’s paid up. Dealers, you can begin.”
Connor deals us in, and a low murmur fills the room as the games begin.
There are three full tables tonight. I pick up my cards, not really paying much attention to the other players around me.
As I organize my cards and contemplate my next move, someone calls my name, and my eyes lift from my cards to the eyes of the man sitting across from me.
Vernon’s an attorney who joined the group maybe ten or so years ago.
I have no idea what kind of law he practices, but I’ve never crossed paths with him professionally.
Vernon’s studying me intently, and I raise my eyebrows in silent question.
“I heard you got a new client the other day,” he says, feigning nonchalance.
My hand holding my cards drops to the table in front of me. “Yeah, well, I get a lot of clients, Vernon. What’s it to you?”
Knowing exactly what he’s going to say, I clear my face of any reaction when he replies, “I have no doubt that you do. But this one’s different. Since it’s for a criminal defense case.”
I sniff hard and tap the edges of my cards on the table. Not really wanting to get into my sudden one-eighty back to the life I left behind, I deflect. “I wouldn’t believe everything you hear, Vern.”
He stares at me over the frames of his glasses, that have slid down the bridge of his nose. “So you aren’t representing Lily Bennett?”
I narrow my eyes at Vernon. “How the fuck do you know her?”
His thin shoulders lift. “I was her husband’s attorney for many years. I also helped Lily at times when she needed help.”
A billowing mixture of anger and something that might be jealousy twists in my chest.
“Are you really back?” Connor mutters beside me.
I cut my stare in his direction. “It’s complicated.”
Connor was one of the people who pushed me the hardest to reconsider leaving defense work after Tom’s trial.
While I appreciated his support and his belief in me, it pissed me off that he didn’t even try to understand where I was coming from.
It put a strain on our friendship that I never bothered to tell him about.
Addressing Vernon again, I ask, “Did you know he beat her?”
He has the decency to look ashamed. “I knew he had an anger problem. But both of them kept what really happened at home from everyone. Including me.”
“Everyone, make your bets,” Connor demands of the table to keep us moving.
We all toss our chips in the middle of the table, followed by each of us discarding cards and getting new ones dealt.
When we’re all studying the new hands, I ask, “So you had no idea what was going on?”
Not looking at me, Vernon rearranges his cards in his hands. “Didn’t say that. Just said they kept it hidden.”
Anger starts to win the battle against jealousy as I study the older man. I don’t think Vernon is necessarily a bad guy. But I’m struggling to understand how he couldn’t do more to help Lily, even if it was just a suspicion of what was going on.
I grit my teeth and keep my eyes locked on my cards, even as it gets harder to focus on them.
All I can see is the bruise on Lily’s perfect cheek.
The careful way she moves so as not to hurt her ribs.
The split down her lip that I worry will open any time she talks because I don’t want her to feel even a second of pain.
We’re all tossing another round of bets into the pot, when Vernon’s voice pulls me back to the moment. “But I guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
I huff out a humorless laugh. He’s not wrong, but it also pisses me off that he says that so casually when Lily’s freedom could be on the line if the detectives don’t get their heads out of their asses.
But I concede. “No, Lily never has to worry about getting abused by someone who’s supposed to love her.”
His smile is small as we all set our cards down.
My hand is the winner.
I collect my chips and take a few moments to organize them in front of me while Connor shuffles the deck.
Vernon clears his throat. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad it’s you defending her.”
Cutting my eyes up, I stare at the older man. While I appreciate the vote of confidence, for some reason, it surprises me that he would tell me as much. “It was certainly unexpected, but she deserves a good defense.”
He tilts his head, a knowing gleam in his gaze. “That she does.”
Connor starts to deal the next round, and I can’t resist the urge to ask a question that’s gnawing at my gut. “So who do you think did it?”
The man sitting next to me shifts in his seat. “Why the fuck would you ask him? What if he says he thinks she did it?”
I don’t know this man very well. He’s only been coming for maybe a year or so, but I haven’t played with him much.
I shrug. “A good defense attorney doesn’t give a shit who thinks their client is guilty, as long as we can make a good enough defense for why they should be found guilty.”
The man chuckles. “I get that. I’m more worried about your reaction when he tells you he does.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I snap.
The man holds up his hands in a defensive gesture. “Nothing, Rivers. Calm down. Just got the impression you feel a little stronger than normal about her.”
Annoyance and a tinge of embarrassment heat me up. I didn’t intend to give the impression that I felt anything else besides professional duty toward Lily.
I frown as I look over my hand. I deny as best I can. “She’s just a client that I want to make sure gets the defense she deserves. Nothing more than that.”
He takes a sip of his whiskey. “Whatever you say, Rivers.” He tilts his glass toward Vernon. “Well, Vern. Are you going to answer the question?”
As we place our bets, Vernon finally responds, “Bennett wasn’t always the most well-liked man. If, and I say if, Lily did do it, she wasn’t the only one who wanted him dead.”
It’s somewhat comforting that even his long-time personal attorney confirms what Carlos alluded to. Now the only question will be—what will convince the detectives of this?