Chapter 21
From everything that Cam had told him, his dad had lived his entire life in a small town in Montana, too. But he was only enthused and comfortable the moment they walked into Vault.
None of the apprehension Cam had displayed in the dirty alley was present, and Shane melted into the crowd around the bar, exchanging small talk and ordering a drink like this was the kind of shit he did all the time.
“Yeah,” Cam said, even though Dawson hadn’t actually said any of this out loud, “he’s always like this. Comfortable around people. Always been a little in awe—and a little jealous—of it.”
Dawson chuckled. “You’re good with people, rook.”
But Cam only laughed and shook his head. “Not like him.”
“Well, how about this—just be good with me, okay?” Dawson tilted his head up and pressed a quick kiss to Cam’s temple.
Cam beamed. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Good.”
Ramsey appeared then, doling out his usual smiles and charm, sprinkling them wherever he went, and next to them, Nate tensed. Didn’t frown, but looked clearly uncomfortable as Ramsey wound his way closer and closer, like he was skating in circles, narrowing down his final destination.
Dawson wondered if Aidan had talked to him yet. It was unclear if he hadn’t gotten around to it, or it just hadn’t been nearly as effective as Aidan was hoping for.
Sure enough, Dawson had just grabbed his and Cam’s drinks from the bartender when Ramsey reached his final destination.
Unsurprisingly, it was right next to Nate.
“Bishop,” Ramsey said, inclining his head. He was in a slate-blue sweater tonight, his chain just visible, glittering against his throat.
Nate only rolled his eyes. “Playing nice, huh?”
“I thought that’s what I always do,” Ramsey retorted mildly, seemingly not bothered by Nate’s adversarial attitude.
Dawson exchanged a knowing glance with Cam.
“Yeah, wonder if you can actually fucking stand any of us,” Nate grumbled.
“Oh, but you’re my favorite, Nathaniel,” Ramsey teased.
Nate made a face, and Dawson decided that he’d heard enough. Whatever Aidan said, it had not been effective. Maybe it was time to throw his own hat into the ring. He nudged Cam, giving him a subtle look over at where Duke and Jack were hanging out. Cam nodded back, message clearly received.
“Hey, Nate, I was gonna ask you something,” Dawson said, sliding in between where Nate was leaning against the bar and where Ramsey stood. “You got a minute?”
The thundercloud on Nate’s face lifted a bit. Like he’d just wanted an excuse to leave Ramsey alone. But then, as Dawson led Nate over to one of the high-top tables, he caught Nate glancing backwards.
Right at Ramsey.
Before Dawson could try to parse the expression on Nate’s face—was it longing or frustration or annoyance or possibly a semi-toxic combination of all three?—it was wiped clean.
“So, what’s up?” Nate asked, leaning his elbows against the table.
Oh shit. Dawson had told him he was going to ask him something. Which meant he needed to ask him something.
Dawson scrambled. “Uh, you might’ve heard I had to fire my lawyer.”
“Yeah, I did hear. That sucks, man. Sucks that people keep taking advantage of you.” Nate’s tone was genuinely sincere.
He wasn’t a man of many words but the words he did say always seemed heartfelt.
Which was why it always seemed odd that Nate seemed so adamantly against Ramsey, even from the beginning, when he’d had no real reason to dislike the guy.
Dawson shrugged. Wondered how he could subtly segue from him firing his lawyer to the subject of Ramsey. Maybe if he just kept going, it would come to him.
Should’ve just left this to Aidan. He’s way better at this shit.
Aidan was, but Dawson was discovering how good it was to be part of a team again, to be really part of a team, and he didn’t want to just take a back seat anymore and leave all the hard shit to his old friend.
“Thanks,” Dawson said. “I was wondering if you had any recommendations. Knew anyone who was really good at handling contract stuff. And wouldn’t be against seeing me through the rest of this trial with Ackerman.”
“Yeah, my guy’s great. I’ll text you his number.”
“That’s awesome.” See, Hall? Two birds, one stone.
“No prob.” Nate glanced back at where Ramsey was standing, now chatting easily with Wes and Mo. Dawson knew what that look felt like. Wanting to go over there, even though he knew he shouldn’t.
It was what gave him the push to finally say something. “You seem like a real helpful guy,” Dawson said.
Nate looked over at him. “I do?” he asked, smile tilting up the corner of his mouth.
“Well, yeah. I’ve been through it, sure, but it sounds like that guy’s been through it too.” He waved over at where Ramsey had just made everyone in his relative vicinity laugh.
“Not you too,” Nate said.
“Listen, I don’t know what your issue is—”
“Yeah, you don’t,” Nate retorted. “And you’re not gonna. Did Aidan suggest that you talk to me? I can handle my own shit.”
Dawson did not mention that it didn’t seem like that was true, at least when it came to Ramsey. Nate had a good six inches and fifty pounds of pure muscle on him. He wasn’t stupid.
Optimistic, maybe, but not stupid.
“Of course you can,” Dawson soothed. “And no, of course Aidan didn’t put me up to anything. Would Aidan do that?”
Nate chuckled darkly. “No. He’d never want someone to pull something off where he failed.”
“Exactly,” Dawson said. “We’re just both saying similar things, because it’s so obvious.”
“What’s so obvious?”
Damn. Dawson had really hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into more detail than that. That Nate would be self-aware enough to understand exactly what Dawson wasn’t explicitly saying.
“That you want to go talk to him,” Dawson offered.
Nate frowned. “I absolutely fucking don’t. That guy is a menace. Always showing up and throwing his weight around, like anybody gives a shit about some washed-up hockey player who can’t get on the ice.”
Dawson opened his mouth to suggest that assessment was both too harsh and also a little too vehement in its denial, but Nate shot him a dark look and stomped off.
Well, shit. Now he probably wasn’t going to get Nate’s lawyer’s info, either.
So much for two birds, one stone.
He tipped his drink back against his lips, finishing the rest of it. Wondered if he should head back to the bar, get another. Find where Cam was and maybe persuade him to go make out in an empty bathroom.
But before he could, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it, and once he saw Natalia Kaminski’s name, he picked up immediately.
“Hi, Dawson. Sorry to call so late,” she said apologetically. “Do you have a moment?”
“It’s alright. Let me just see if I can find a quiet spot,” Dawson said.
He set his empty glass down on the table and headed off to check out the different rooms that spun out from the main bar.
He hit pay dirt in the gaming room, which was still empty.
In an hour, it would be full in here, with the guys playing pool and darts, but for right now, they were all still congregating at the bar.
“Okay, I’m good now,” Dawson said, leaning his hip against the back of one of the long leather couches.
“I told you we were talking to Ackerman’s lawyers. They didn’t like that we rejected their last plea,” she said.
“No, they wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t either.
” Dawson assumed if he hadn’t blocked Ackerman’s number forever ago, he’d have called up Dawson and demanded to know why he was being so difficult.
And Brynn might have interceded on her father’s behalf, but he’d told her months ago that he wasn’t willing to listen.
“No,” Natalia agreed dryly. “But after finding out what we didn’t like with the original plea deal, they came back with another option.”
“Yeah?” Dawson wasn’t expecting it to be much better than the last one, but he supposed they had to earn their money—his money, probably—somehow.
“I’ll send it over,” she said, “but the gist of it is that he’s willing to do time.”
“Not just house arrest?”
“Not just house arrest.”
Dawson was surprised.
“I was surprised too,” Natalia said when he was stunned into silence. “But I think they’re worried.”
“Sounds like you’ve got them exactly where you want them,” Dawson said.
“Yes and no.” Natalia sighed. “I’m willing to consider it. I wanted to get your temperature on it first, though.”
“How much jail time?”
“Less than a year. At a low-security prison. It might be what he gets with a lenient judge. But it would mean he would have to file a guilty plea, Dawson. And it would mean we could start moving forward with a restitution plan for you and the other victims.”
Dawson didn’t know what to say. “What do you think?” he asked, because he wasn’t sure.
“I think it’s honestly a good compromise, and it frees up resources to go after more criminals,” Natalia said. “And it frees you up.”
“Me?”
“I know what kind of burden this is on you, with your career. You’ve given a lot of time and attention already, and with your job and your stature, that’s not easy. I know that. This would allow you to put it behind you, forever.”
There was no way that didn’t look appealing. It did. Natalia was right, as she usually was.
She was right about everything, except one thing.
“I don’t care if it’s easier or not. I don’t want my ease to be part of this,” Dawson argued. “I don’t care what this means for me, as long as justice happens. I’ve got a good—a great—support system, here. My agent’s working on the lawyer angle.”
“He’s been great,” Natalia inserted.
“And to be honest, it doesn’t feel like I haven’t put it behind me.”
Dawson froze.
Hearing what he’d just said. Realizing he meant it. He had put it behind him. The legal issues were just that—wrapping it up in a pretty bow, sure, and making sure Ackerman paid for his crimes was appealing, additionally—but he was over it.
He’d gotten past it.
And maybe it wasn’t just Cam, but it was a lot Cam.