Copyright © 2022 by Robin James
All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
If he could have killed a man with a spatula, Detective Eric Wray would be looking at life in prison.
“Eric,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm and even. He knew what I was going to say. For a brief instant, he pointed the spatula at me.
“Your eggs are burning,” came the Irish brogue-laced voice of Killian Thorne. He stood in my hallway, leaning against the wall, watching the two of us with an amused, infuriating half-smile.
The last time these two men were within ten feet of each other, one had come away with a fat lip, the other a black eye. Now, only I and my two yapping dogs stood between them. Marbury and Madison had quickly chosen sides in the pitched battle to come. Madison was far more vocal. She splayed her front legs out, arching her back. She growled at Killian. Marbury curled himself around Eric’s feet, ready to serve in the rear guard if need be.
They hated each other. Plain and simple. In addition to being my most infamous former client, Killian Thorne had once been my fiancé. Now he was … well, a complicated visitor, to say the least.
“You should have called,” I said to Killian. “This isn’t the best time.”
“Is there somewhere we can talk in private?” Killian asked, nonplussed by Eric or either of the dogs.
“She said it’s not a good time,” Eric barked. “That means you should leave.”
“This is between Cass and me,” Killian said.
“I believe I told you what would happen the next time I saw you,” Eric said.
“You what?” I said. “I’m sorry. What?”
Eric took a step forward. He at least put the spatula down. The dogs stayed at his feet, ready for action. Madison emitted a low, rumbling growl. At least I think it was the dog. Eric was turning damn near feral himself.
“All right,” I said. “Killian, take a walk with me.”
“Cass,” Eric started. I turned back and glared at him. I jutted my chin out, grimacing to give him my best attempt at a “stand down” signal. I imagined I’d mostly pulled off some sort of lizard face.
I didn’t wait for Eric’s response. I grabbed Killian’s arm and pulled him with me out the front door. Killian followed me all the way down the paving stones and out onto the dock.
Mid-November, but it was still warm out. My brothers were planning to pull the dock out later this morning. Which was great, except it would exponentially raise the testosterone level. If there was anyone who disliked Killian Thorne more than Eric, it was Joe and Matty.
“What’s going on?” I asked Killian. He took his time walking to the end of the platform with me. The water was unnaturally calm. You could throw a single pebble and watch it ripple across almost the entire lake.
As if Killian could read my thoughts, he did just that. A small stone had wedged itself between the aluminum planks of the dock. He picked it up and skipped it with an expert flick of his wrist. We watched together as it bounced four times across the water.
“You should have called,” I said.
“Things are going well with Detective Wray, I see,” he said. There was sarcasm in Killian’s tone. It made me want to shove him straight into the lake.
“Let’s pretend for a second that it's any of your business,” I said. “What are you doing here? And what’s with the suitcase?”
Killian had graced my doorstep carrying what looked like a fully packed black bag. He’d made a show of dropping it in the hallway as Eric watched. It was then Eric had picked up the spatula and brandished it.
Killian didn’t answer right away. He looked out at the water. A gaggle of geese landed maybe twenty yards in front of us. The lead goose rose up, flapping his wings, creating a ruckus, before settling back down.
“Your great-grandfather knew what he was about when he picked this land,” Killian said. “It’s the flattest point on the whole lake. Facing west like that. He never wanted to miss a sunset. I can close my eyes and be in Ireland.” Then he did. Killian lifted his chin, drawing in a breath of fresh air.
“Why aren’t you?” I asked.
He opened his eyes. “Why aren’t I what?”
“In Ireland?” I asked. “In Chicago. Anywhere. Why are you here?”
He turned to me. “I’ve a favor to ask.”
“You said that,” I said. “And you told me it was one I couldn’t refuse, if I recall. So clue me in. You’re in trouble again, aren’t you? I know that look. I’m not your lawyer anymore, remember?”
I’d spent over a decade as the person most responsible for getting Killian Thorne out of trouble. As the main litigator for the Thorne Law Group, I’d defended him countless times against criminal charges. Killian had taken over the family business. To the outside world, and to me until the very last case I defended, Killian ran an import/export business. To the FBI, Killian led one of the most lucrative branches of the Irish mob in North America.
His silence spoke volumes. He just kept staring at the geese, ignoring my increasing frustration. A common tactic of his.
From inside, I could hear Marbury and Madison still barking at the window. Eric could have put a stop to it, but didn’t.
“Fine,” I said. “Stand out here and brood. I still haven’t had breakfast.”
I also still hadn’t gotten dressed. I was wearing a pair of old boxer shorts and a University of Michigan sweatshirt. When I turned to try to storm back up the dock, Killian caught my sleeve and held me back.
“I need a place to stay,” he said. “Just for a few days. I’ve got business nearby.”
“You want to stay here?” I asked.
“If it’s not too much trouble.” He smiled.
“Not too much …”
He had me speechless. I took a breath, centering myself. “What’s going on? You show up out of the blue. With a suitcase. On the morning after Eric and I …”
I swallowed the last part of my sentence. There was no need for it. At the same time, an unsettling feeling crept up my spine. Eric and I had been through hell and back over the last couple of years. Now, finally, we were in a place to move forward with our relationship. And yet here Killian, my ex, was.
“Do you have someone watching my house?” I asked, my anger rising.
Killian met my eyes. “No. Of course not.”
Was he lying? Had he ever told me the truth about anything?
“Are you in trouble?” I asked.
He smiled. “No more trouble than usual.”
I looked skyward. “Great. As I recall, your usual is pretty awful. Is there a warrant this time? Who have you talked to?”
“Relax, Counselor.” Killian laughed. “It’s not that kind of trouble. Even if it was, it’s not your job anymore, remember? You quit.”
“I was fired,” I said. “I was worse than fired. Maybe you’ve forgotten. Your brother Liam nearly sent me to the bottom of Lake Michigan with a cement briefcase tied to my waist.”
Killian winced. “No one will ever put you in that position again,” he said. “You’re safe.”
“But you’re not,” I said. “Is that it?”
“Don’t be so dramatic, a rúnsearc,” he said, using an old Gaelic term of endearment he had for me. “I just need a place to stay for a few days where no one knows me. I told you. I’ve got some business not far from here. And I wouldn’t have asked if there was a better option.”
“Any option would be a better option,” I said. “Killian, I have a life here. You can’t just come crashing into it. Complicating it again.”
“I don’t recall things being complicated between us,” he said. “Now that one? That’s a different story.”
Killian pointed toward the house. Eric was apparently done waiting quietly inside. He stepped out onto the porch. He’d dressed in a tee shirt and jeans. His service weapon was clipped to his belt. It meant he was heading into work. Or that he was about to shoot Killian. At the moment, I wasn’t sure which I wished least for. Eric and I had an unfinished conversation regarding his future plans.
“Just a few days,” Killian said. His hand was on my arm. “That’s a promise. There’s never been a promise I made you I haven’t kept. Can he say the same?”
“Don’t start,” I said through gritted teeth, hoping Eric couldn’t hear him.
“You owe me,” he said. “So does he.”
His words stopped me cold because they were true.
“This is how you plan to collect?” I asked.
I walked back up to the house. If I couldn’t move the mountain that was Killian Thorne, I’d have to try to move the one that was Eric Wray.
“What’s he want?” Eric said, his voice low.
“I’m not fully clear on that yet,” I said. “Can you just let me handle it though?”
“If he’s here, I’m not leaving,” Eric said.
“Eric …”
“Not up for discussion,” Eric said.
My phone rang from inside the house. I moved past Eric to get to it. It was Miranda, my office manager. I’d never been more glad to talk to her.
“What’s up?” I answered.
“Hey, Cass,” she said, her voice cheery, but with a mysterious lilt to it. It meant some other kind of trouble, I knew.
“There’s a woman in your office who wants to talk to you. I tried to get her to make an appointment but she says she won’t leave until she talks to you in person.”
“Are you okay? Are you there by yourself?”
“No,” Miranda said. “I mean, I’m okay. Jeanie and Tori are here. Actually, your brother Matty is too. He dropped Tori off.”
“What does she want?” I asked. On the porch, Eric and Killian were having words. I just prayed it wouldn’t come to blows in the few minutes I turned my back on them.
“I think she wants a lawyer,” Miranda said.
“I’m on vacation,” I said. Two weeks ago, I’d just wrapped up a major murder trial. This was supposed to be my time off.
“Yeah,” Miranda said. “I figured you’d say that. Only, she showed up with a briefcase full of cash.”
“What?”
“Ten thousand dollars, Cass,” Miranda said. I could practically see the dollar signs floating behind her eyes. “She says you’re the only one who can help her. How soon can you get here?”
Eric and Killian had resorted to shouting. They were both oblivious to my presence. I could have burst into flames and neither of them would have even noticed.
That’s when I knew my answer to Miranda. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I said. I hung up the phone, threw on a pair of jeans, and headed out to my car. Eric and Killian were still arguing with each other as I drove away.
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