Harlow: A Military Bad Boy Romance: The Bradford Brothers (28 page)

I turn around and walk out to the elevators— shoulders back, head up, as cool and collected as I can possibly act— before anyone at the firm can see me in this sorry state. I’ll come back later to collect my things. Mr. Holt hadn’t told me what to do with them but I’m assuming they’re not going to let my office sit occupied by my things while I’m not here.

As I leave the building, my shock soon turns to anger. Just like that, I’m single and unemployed. But I’m determined to save both my relationship and my career, and Brian’s right that I always come out on top. I always get what I want.

I hear the wise version of myself whisper: It’s just that for the first time in a long time, the only reason I want it so badly is because I’ve been deprived of it.
Shut up
, I tell that voice.
I do want this and I will get it back. You just watch.

Do it. Just do it.

I’m at home, and I figure what do I have to lose? I’m in need of a salary, and I know that this position could help my chances of getting back to the firm. I’m just not that excited about representing criminals.

But what if it’s that Jensen dude?

A chill runs down my spine. I still can’t figure out why I hate him yet feel strangely attracted to him. And I need to keep thoughts of him out of this. I have to worry seriously about saving my career, not have wistful, conflicting thoughts about some loser criminal with tattoos and a beard that’s way too long. He’s not even my type, at all, in any way, shape or form.

“Tim McDonald,” says Tim’s voice after I’m put on hold for a few minutes.

“Hello Mr. McDonald.” I clear my throat, hoping I didn’t just croak out his name. “This is Riley Morrell.”

“Oh yes, Riley!” His tone sounds instantly more cheerful. “I was beginning to think I’d never hear from you again. I know the prison setting can be scary, but that’s really how you had to be thrown into the organization…”

“I understand, Mr. McDonald.”

“Call me Tim. Please.”

“All right. Tim. I was thinking about what you said before about there possibly being a paid position available?”

“Oh.” There’s silence, and I feel rejected for the third time today. “Well this is a bit of a surprise. I meant maybe later, down the road, if you decided you preferred working for us over… your current firm…”

“How about a trial run?” I ask him. I force myself to choke the words out, knowing I’m being a bit deceptive, but feeling that I’m faced with no other choice. “A temporary, even part-time if necessary, job? If I like it, I’ll stay there. If not, there’s always Holt.”

“Well. I’ll certainly see what I can do.” There’s a long pause, and I can tell he’s seriously considering it. It feels good to be wanted again, even if it is by a non-profit organization. “We have a shoestring budget and I didn’t anticipate such an addition to the payroll… and we certainly couldn’t pay you anything close to what I’m sure you’re used to…”

“I understand.”

I don’t even want to know how low the salary will be. I just want to know I have something in place…
some
kind of job lined up. Something to do with all my seemingly endless free time that’s suddenly been bestowed upon me.

I hate uncertainty more than anything else. I would feel like such a loser without any kind of job at all, and I feel I must do everything I can to continue forward momentum, until I’m back at Holt where I belong.
Don’t I?

“Budget issues aside— and those are only for me to worry about— your call really couldn’t have come at a better time,” Tim continues, slightly changing the subject. “We have a former military client who wants to change lawyers. He’s a rather… difficult… client but I’m sure you can handle him. In fact, if you can’t, I don’t know who could. But he has a pre- trial conference tomorrow morning. If I can clear some room in our budget, can you be at court at nine o’clock tomorrow morning?”

“Ummm…” I stammer in disbelief.

I’m not used to cases moving so quickly. And I didn’t know I’d be thrown into court— a criminal court with which I’m completely unfamiliar—so soon.

But then again, there’s something exciting about a sink or swim challenge. Hadn’t I always begged for more court opportunities at Holt? I’m sure the partners will be glad to hear that during my break from their employment I’ve gotten in a lot of trial time and courtroom experience.

“Sure,” I tell him, throwing caution to the wind. “I can be there tomorrow at nine.”

And this ex military guy better not be as hot as that Jensen guy
, I can’t help but add, to myself, as I hang up.
The last thing I need right now is a distraction.

When I walk into court for my pre-trial conference, Dylan isn’t there. I’m not expecting him to be, since I fired him. But I’m still taken a bit off guard, feeling out of sorts. If Dylan’s no longer my lawyer, then who is?

“You’re in luck,” says Tim, as he strolls into the courtroom, looking peppier than I’ve ever seen him. “I told you there was no attorney in our organization that rivals Dylan, but now he’s got some competition. A very talented lawyer has just joined us… temporarily, at least.”

And just like that, Riley Morrell enters the courtroom, looking as wide-eyed and out of place as a baby doe. She’s all dressed up as if she’s about to argue my case to the United States Supreme Court. So prim and proper and stuffy. But there’s a small amount of cleavage protruding from her silk blouse under her black blazer. Just enough to make me think she has a wild side, or maybe she will after I find it and bring it out…

Back to reality
, I chide myself.
This is my lawyer we’re talking about here, not some girl at a party. And I don’t want her to be my lawyer.

“
Her
? You’ve gotta be kidding me. You’ve assigned me some
temporary
lawyer?”

She can’t even take this gig seriously enough to commit to it?

“Jensen, calm down,” Tim says, patting my arm as he says a phrase I’ve heard way too much in my lifetime. But it’s easier said than done, to calm down about my case and my defense.

“I heard you say she doesn’t even have criminal law experience.” I glare at him accusingly.

“But she is one of the best young civil lawyers there is, and that’s what matters,” Tim says. “She’ll learn her way around the criminal court, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, I’m the lucky first client who gets to be her guinea pig…” I mutter, as Riley approaches.

Her uniquely colored eyes flash shock— or is something more?— upon seeing me and for a moment I just sit here like an idiot. The logical part of me is screaming, “I don’t want this flaky, newbie lawyer! Bring Dylan back, or let me hire my own lawyer outside of this incompetent organization,” but the primitive part of me is screaming, “Holy shit is this woman hot.”

“Everything will turn out as it should, Jensen,” says Tim, as he stands up to leave. He hands Riley a file that has my name typed up on a label. “We here at Veterans Legal Alliance are very happy to have Riley on board. And I repeat my assertion that you are very lucky to have her on your case. I’ll let you two discuss that in further detail now, since you don’t have much time before the judge calls your case.”

“Hello again,” says Riley, as she sits down in the spot that Tim just vacated. “Jensen, right?”

“Right.” I nod at the file in her hand.

“Oh yes, of course,” she says, and blushing, begins opening the file. I realize that she had remembered my name without being reminded by the file.

Hmmm
.
Maybe this attorney/ client relationship will work out better than I thought.

“Now let me see here… I just got your file right now. I mean, obviously. Now let me see…”

She begins grabbing at various papers in the file, obviously flustered.
It appears I have quite an effect on this otherwise put- together lawyer
.

“…your other lawyer, Dylan, was in the process of securing an expert to testify as to your PTSD,” she notes.

“Forget about that,” I snap at her, fuming mad now and not even caring whether or not she’s as attracted to me as I am to her. I just want to get my point across. Leave it to Dylan to paper my file with the defense I didn’t want him to pursue.

“I’m sorry?”

“That’s why he’s not my lawyer anymore. I don’t want to pursue the PTSD defense. I don’t have PTSD.”

“Okay.”

I look at her, trying to figure out what she’s thinking.
Was that an “okay” as in, “I’ll give you lip service but do what I want,” like Dylan always meant when he said “okay”? Or was that an “okay” as in, “Okay, I’m on your side and I agree?” Or maybe it was just an “Okay, I have no idea what I’m doing here so I’ll just say okay to whatever you say?”

I look at her furrowed brow as she continues to rifle through the pages of my file and I decide it’s most definitely the last option. Although I do like the idea of “lip service…”

“State versus Jensen Bradford, Case Number 11-203-cr-29788,” announces the bailiff, starting me out of the dirty thoughts I was about to escape into. Riley looks startled as well.

“I’m up,” I announce, despite my better interests rather intrigued to see how this will play out.

“Yes,” Riley says, as she walks ahead of me to the podium in front of the judge. She’s looking around and then back down at the file in her hands, rather frantically.

It’s obvious that she has no idea what she’s doing in my case. But I just can’t stop staring at her perfect ass.