Page 117 of Fighting the Forbidden

“Funny you should say that, Cinderella.” Wrath reaches over and rubs his big hand over Hope’s head, and she bats him away. “We got one of those attack suits to train the dogs. Z needs someone to wear it, and Ruthless looks like the right size.”

“Wait, what?” Remy pivots, shifting his weight to his back foot, and throws his elbow back.

Wrath dodges the blow to his gut easily, and releases Remy. “Nice move.”

“Thanks.” Remy shakes it off and takes a deep breath.

“You done terrorizing the kid?” Grinder punches Wrath’s arm.

“Yes, Grumpy…I mean, Grinder.” Wrath grins.

I duck my head and swallow my laughter.

Hope lets out a heavy sigh. “Come on.” She gestures to an open door to our right. “Be nice,” she says over her shoulder to Wrath.

“I’ll let him get into the protective gear before we release the dogs,” Wrath promises.

“That’s not what I meant,” Hope mutters, shaking her head. “We’re going to borrow the guys’ office.” She pushes the heavy wooden door open and motions for me to go in first. A desk rests against each wall of the office, leaving the middle of the room mostly open. A dog bed rests in one corner and a filing cabinet in another. A laptop and some folders or books sit on each one. Hope pulls out the chair at the largest desk. A yellow legal pad rests on top of a smaller laptop. This must be where the officers meet before “church.”

She drops into the thickly padded executive chair and nods to a green leather chair across from her. “Take Murphy’s seat.”

“Dex doesn’t get a desk?” I guess.

She shrugs. “I think the garages are his domain.”

I nod, but damn, maybe I shouldn’t have said that.

“So, Teller said you need to have a will drafted?” Hope prompts.

“I don’t have much.” I spread my hands in front of me. “This is probably pointless.”

“Not at all.” Hope reaches over and rests her soft, warm hand over mine. “It’s smart to think ahead. Just in case.”

“Thanks.” I don’t get the sense she’s humoring me.

For some reason, I’m nervous. My leg won’t stop bouncing. My gaze keeps straying to the closed door.

“This is confidential,” she assures me.

“Remy already knows. It’s not really a big deal.”

“Well, that’s your decision. But on my end, nothing you say in here leaves this room.” She glances toward the door. “Rock understands that.”

I relax into the chair and pull out the list I scribbled earlier.

“All right.” Hope picks up her pen and legal pad. “So, tell me what made you decide to do this now?”

I tell her about the reality show, surprised Teller didn’t mention it. She listens and jots a few notes. When I mention the contracts, non-disclosure agreements, and psych exam, she sets her pen down. Concern glints in her eyes.

“Are you sure about this, Griff? In theory you should have you own attorney look over the contract and negotiate the terms.” She taps her pen against the pad.

“I don’t have any bargaining power. If I try to change the terms, they’ll probably just find someone else.”

“True,” she says slowly, as if maybe that wouldn’t be a bad idea. “We could always argue later you didn’t have your own counsel, but it’s a hard battle to fight. The law rarely favors the little guy in cases like that.”

Her questions don’t provoke my defensive side like Remy’s did. Her use of we reassures me even if what she said amounts to “we have a rat’s chance in hell” of winning.

“You know what? It’s never a bad time to have a will.” She picks up her pen again. “Let’s take care of that today. When it’s time to sign the contracts, call me.”

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