EIGHT

Jace: Present Day

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WHEN I WAS IN LAW SCHOOL, my professors warned me about a certain type of opponent. They said this type of opponent would always be willing to bend the rules of the law to their own will, to reconstruct the lines in a way that fit them best, and that if I should ever encounter someone like this, I could either risk my license to practice or try to beat them at their own game.

In Seattle, I’d handled plenty of these rogue lawyers with ease, but right now, even though this current war was personal, Courtney was definitely closer to winning.

Sliding her pen into her mouth for the umpteenth time this afternoon, she crossed her legs and cleared her throat. “The CEO of the utility company is willing to come into our office for a taped deposition,” she said. “His lawyer says he’ll be too busy to participate in a trial—if this goes to trial.”

“I’m sure.” I shut my book, noticing the imprint of lace panties under her dress. “Who was the guy in your apartment last night?”

“What?” She blushed.

“The guy in your apartment last night,” I repeated. “Who the fuck was he?”

“Don’t curse at me,” she said, glaring. “And stick to questions about the case, or I’m leaving.”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

“No.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Anything else that’s not about this case and I’m walking out right now.”

Silence.

I tapped my fingers on my desk, debating whether now was the time I needed to ask when the last time she’d been fucked was, but I decided to wait until later.

“What did you tell the lawyer after he mentioned the deposition?” I asked.

“I said I’d get back to him.” She let out a breath, and the tension between us slowly gave way. “I’ve read the depositions from previous cases like this, and I’m not trying to insinuate anything but...”

“But what?”

She sighed. “Can we have a truce for like two minutes?”

“Only two minutes?”

“Seeing as that’s how long you had a woman over your apartment the other night, that’s how long you last these days, right?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Are you sleeping with her?” The words rushed out of her mouth.

“I thought you only wanted to talk about the case.”

“I do.” She paused. “But are you sleeping with her?”

“No.” I pointed to her computer. “Say what you need to say over our two-minute truce, Miss Ryan.”

“Okay, well—” She opened her laptop and spun it around to face me, showing me a screen where she’d pieced together video clips. “Bryson Power & Water Company has been involved in over three hundred similar lawsuits dating back to 1969. Of those, two have made it to court, and the rest have been settled.”

“I’m well aware of that. What’s your point?”

“The depositions from all the opposing counsels are all the same.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“I’ve watched every single one—Well, the ones from the eighties. I read the ones from the sixties. And in every single one, the counsel agent asks the current president or CEO the same questions, sometimes in the same order.” She hit play on her laptop, and a collection of the videos began to play at the same time.

“Do you always make sure your water facilities are up to current federal code?” “How do you deal with issues that arise when customers bring it to your attention?” “Did you purposely use cheaper materials to construct your piping wells?”

She stopped the tape and looked at me. “There may be some variation here or there, but each of these is the same. So, unless every lawyer who wanted to sue Bryson, Inc. over the past few years came up with the same exact questions in the same exact order—”

“They were all paid under the table.” I hit play on the video again—letting the video roll for eight more questions. “You watched all of these?”

She nodded.

I hit pause, impressed.

At my previous firm, whenever I told the second chair lawyer to do research on a huge company, they’d handpick up to ten cases. Never more.

Before I could tell her that she could call the utility company lawyer and tell him to go fuck himself, my desk phone rang.

“Yes?” I answered.

“May I speak to Mr. Kennedy?” It was the lawyer.

“This is he.”

“Mr. Kennedy, hello. I’m calling to let you know that we’re willing to concede to a deposition and a very generous settlement with your clients.”

“Define very generous.”

“We’ll offer fifty thousand per family member for a total of two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”

“Surely you’re smart enough to know better than to waste my time with an offer like that.”

“If you agree, we’re willing to be more than generous to you and your team for working on this case as well. I know you were a hot shot in Seattle, but this is a whole different ballgame. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“For your sake, I would hope not. I’ll see you in court, Mr. Redford.”

“Why are you acting like this is personal?”

“It is.” I ended the call and stood up the second Courtney crossed her legs. I needed to take a cold shower, and I wasn’t going to spend the rest of my afternoon being tortured by the sight of Courtney’s pen game or dealing with her sarcasm.

“I’m leaving early today,” I said.

“What? Why?” Courtney looked confused, but then she cleared her throat and tried to look nonchalant. “I don’t recall asking.”

“I just thought I’d let you know that if you’re interested in leaving early and practicing your pen-sucking skills on something thicker and longer, I’ll be right next door all night.”

Her cheeks turned redder than ever. “You know I can file a sexual harassment claim against you, right?”

“You can.” I pulled out my phone. “And if you do, I’ll share the video of all the bullshit you’ve pulled this week as well.”

“I didn’t know you still cared so much.”

“I’m still trying to figure out if you do.”

She shook her head—the truth etched all over her gorgeous face. “I don’t. Our truce is long over by the way.”

“That means you’re back to the petty shit?”

“Yes.” She picked up one of my favorite pens, sliding it between her lips again. “Back to the petty shit.”