“You said you needed our help.”
They stare at me, shocked that I put such an abrupt end to their conversation.
Being away from Ophelia for hours does that to me.
My self-restraint has been stretched so thin it’s about to snap.
It’s been like this ever since I left home. It got worse when Topher offered to go out to dinner with me earlier today. He wanted to discuss thisthing we talked about.
I declined, but it’s never stopped bothering me.
“I said I might.” Parker places his empty tumbler on my desk. The ice cube is gone. Melted. Unlike Parker’s confidence. His devious grin. “I covered my?—”
I raise a hand to stop him, at the same time Oliver says, “Hold it right there.”
We can’t be accomplices to a felony. Which, obviously, there was. No number of connections and threats would save us from being disbarred. This is bigger than any of us.
“All right, all right.” He chuckles, the prick, leaning back.
One foot over his knee shows just how at ease he is. How he’s grown with the knowledge that Daddy’s money will save him from anything. Same as the men in our families.
Not Ophelia.
Brave, resilient, strong Ophelia.
Perfect Ophelia.
On her knees.
Or here at my side. As my partner.
Maybe both.
Shut up.
“Came here to give you guys a heads-up, that’s all.”
Oliver chuckles, shaking his head. “Kids these days.”
Kids. He’s twenty-fucking-five.
A murdering twenty-five year old.
Yes, I might be the devil for defending demons like Parker. Never said I was a saint.
I might not even be a lawyer by the time the dust settles.
And what exactly are you planning to be?
The question is as disturbing as it’s redundant.
At the present moment, Parker is my client. I have to do what I can to defend him. I’m ticking items off the list of shit I have to do to prepare my line of defense for this motherfucker.
Shit will hit the fan soon, by the smug look on his face.
It might even happen before I go through with the plan of bringing down the other man sitting across from me.
But not before I get to go home, to Ophelia.