Page 83 of Her Boss

Rick sagged back against the wall. “I… I didn’t realize.”

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Stanton set his coat down on his lap, letting it drape over his right thigh. “Because otherwise, I’d have thrown the book at you. I’d have thrown the whole fucking library at you. Because I don’t like you. But I like Mr. Nantes even less.”

“So why then?” Rick almost growled it.

“That brings us to reason number two, the most important one, actually. Inclination.” Stanton paused a moment. “This isn’t even my usual focus. Mostly, I work interdiction now. Trafficking. Smuggling. That kind of thing. This shit?” Stanton waved his hand. “Small fucking ball. Waste of my time, really.”

Stanton turned his head toward Rick, his dark eyes blazing with a fury that had me swallowing hard in sudden fear that all of this was some sort of sadistic game, that at the last moment, the lawyer was going to rip everything away, dooming Rick to disappearing into the nightmarish, Kafka-esque U.S. penal system.

Please, God. Please save him!

“Small-time scumbags like Nantes? Can’t hold a fucking candle to what I deal with. The very worst a cynical, malignant asshole like Chester could do? That’s nothing. An undisciplined, lazy third-rate cartel’s best behavior is far, far worse.” Stanton sighed. “The shit I’ve seen? The thugs I’ve had put away? They aren’t even human. I don’t believe in fairytales, or the supernatural, Mr. Trafford. But I can tell you with absolute certitude that monsters are real. And they’re walking amongst us every day.”

“You don’t understand Chester Nantes then. He’s capable of a lot worse than?—”

“Save it. Just… fucking save it.” Stanton rubbed a big hand over his close-cropped hair. “Inclination, Mr. Trafford. I just don’t care enough to pursue this. Chester is doing serious time. Sure, it’s minimum security, but it’s still time. His rivals will fill the void he’s left. One piece of shit thrown behind bars for a few trips around the sun. It’s good enough. But the rest? It doesn’t matter to me. Not one little bit.”

“That’s the Department of Justice I’m familiar with,” Rick muttered bitterly. “Pick and choose. Equality under the law? It’s a sick joke. Fancy words on a fucking page that don’t mean shit in the real world.”

“I don’t deny it,” Stanton said, shrugging. “You have to pick your battles. You can’t stomp out all the roaches after all.” He stood then. “But it’s your lucky day, Mr. Trafford. The wheels of justice aren’t going to grind you to dust beneath them. At least not today they aren’t.”

“How so?”

“You’re free to go.”

Rick tilted his head. “I don’t think I heard that right.”

Stanton extended an arm down the hallway. “I mean it. No charges.”

“Oh, my God! Rick!” I hugged him so hard, he grunted softly.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he whispered into my hair. “It’s all right. Let me go now. Need to finish this.”

I nodded sharply, hot tears already wetting my cheeks. I tried to wipe them away with the back of my hand, but it was a losing battle, many more taking their place.

The unbearable tension, my fear that I was going to lose the man I’d come to admire, love, and desire. It was too much. My pent-up emotions came flooding out when I realized it was finally all over.

That I would get to keep my sir.

Thank you, God! Thank you!

“There are conditions though,” Stanton intoned.

His knowing half smile as he said the words made me hate him in that moment, if only a little.

It was the other shoe dropping.

“Conditions?” Rick rose to his full height, eye to eye with the DOJ lawyer. “Free to go doesn’t mean ‘with conditions.’”

Stanton’s voice lowered subtly, his gaze flashing. “I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what ‘with conditions’ means, Mr. Trafford. Do you?”

“Just hear him out,” I said, standing and taking Rick’s right hand in both of mine. “Please…”

“Let’s have it then, Ellison.”

The man’s sharp eyes scanned me a moment before he looked intently at Rick. “You’ll still be selling your company.”

“Like hell I?—”

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