Page 3 of Guilty As Charged
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be there in a second.”
Scout leaves, and I take one last look at the shared office space. I doubt I’ll come in here for the next month, which is probably a good thing. The fewer reminders about Landon and Gideon, the better.
Once I’ve got my things, I make my way down the hall to my office. On the way, I focus on what Scout told me about Abbie and her situation. I recall her being harassed by someone who contracted her for illustrations, and it’s since turned into online harassment. Scout didn’t have specific names, just a general idea, so I’m kind of going in blind.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Mann, I’m—” My words stop when I walk in my office, and I see the woman standing in front of my desk staring at me. Her eyes are a soft brown. They're beautiful, but there’s something about them that’s familiar. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know her. “Spencer. I’m Spencer.”
“Abbie,” she says quietly and holds her hand out.
It dawns on me that I’m frozen in place, and I blink a few times before I hold out my hand while walking closer. In my daze, my shoe catches on the rug, and I stumble forward. I barely manage to catch myself on the chair before I tumble down on top of her. The threat of my almost seven-foot frame crashing down on her forces her to jump back and bump into my desk.
“Shit, I’m so sorry.” I grab on to her upper arms to keep her from going to the ground as I steady myself and straighten. “My feet are so far away from my brain that sometimes they don’t get the message to walk until I’m already in motion.”
She lets out a small laugh, and then her eyes widen like she hasn’t made that sound before. “It’s okay.”
I release her and step back, but the more I look at her, the more certain I am that I know her. But I can tell by the way she pulls the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands and how her shoulders are around her ears that she’s trying to hide. Deciding to take it slow, I walk around my desk and sit down.
“Can I get you something to drink?” She takes a seat in the chair across from me and shakes her head. “All right, then, let’s get started. Scout told me that you’ve had some problems with your previous employer.”
Her laugh this time doesn’t reach her eyes, and it sounds hollow. “You could say that.”
“Scout sent over a copy of the contract, but I wanted to wait and read it.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re my client, and I’m here to protect you.” I don’t miss the way her shoulders relax at the reassurance. “The only side of the story that matters to me is yours. Everything you say stays between us, and from here on out, I’m your shield. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I’m going to do everything I can to give you back your power.”
She’s silent for a long moment before a single tear streams down her cheek.
“Oh fuck.” I’m out of my chair and around my desk in two seconds. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No, no, it’s actually wonderful to hear.” She’s wiping the tears away as I grab the box of tissues on my desk and hold it out to her. “It’s just that I’ve been really scared for a while now, and it’s just nice to hear that someone wants to help.”
“You’ve been scared?” Scout mentioned harassment from her boss and some stuff online, but Abbie is shaking as she uses the tissue to dry her eyes. “Are you hungry?”
“What?” Her eyes meet mine, and I realize they’re not just brown like I originally thought but have a little green in them too.
“I think we’re going to need some wings.” She looks at me with confusion as I reach over and grab my cell. “I’ve done the research, and it’s easier to talk about painful shit while eating chicken wings. Trust me.”
“Okay,” she says, and I see the barest hint of a smile turning up at the corner of her mouth.
Chapter Three
ABBIE
Spencer is far more charming than I thought he would be. It’s not in a cocky way either. I get a sense of calm from him, like he wants to put me at ease. After only a few minutes with him, I’m already feeling a tad safer.
That, however, is easy to achieve while I’m a million floors up from the city, with security at the front desk. On top of having a very tall, handsome man in a suit who wants to protect and feed me.
Right now, though, the glare on his face is kind of scary. I'm glad it's not directed at me and is fully on the printed-out papers in front of him. He’s reading the contract I signed, and he is not happy.
"Geoff Hale. I recognize the name,” Spencer says, and it doesn't temper his anger about the contract.
I was worried he could be a fan of Geoff's. Scout told me how Spencer collects comics, and it’s not out of the realm of possibility. But the scowl on Spencer's face deepens as he scans the pages.
"You've been doing the illustrations for his new series?”
"I'm not supposed to admit that. There’s an NDA.” It’s more common that a person does both the drawings and the writing, but drawing wasn’t Geoff’s strong suit.
