Total pages in book: 183
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 174715 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 874(@200wpm)___ 699(@250wpm)___ 582(@300wpm)
“Yes,” she confirms. “You say I buried my attack. Maybe you’re right, but this book about this case, our case, won’t let me. It makes me, and us, face the attack and get beyond it. I think it’s good for both of us, but I know this affects us both, so I won’t move forward if you’re wholly against it.”
I resist my need to just get her, and us, the hell away from a trial that lead us to so damn much torment, but she’s right. This keeps her, and us, from burying something in a box that will later come back and haunt us. “Do it then,” I say. “I’ll help where you need me, but you and Cat write the book.”
She gives me a beaming smile, pushes to her toes and kisses me. “I’m excited about doing this. Cat and I are good together. She brought me to you.”
“Well then,” I say, my hand molding her closer, “I owe Cat a thank you I haven’t given her.”
We arrive at the office to find Ashley sitting at her desk, the flowers she’d received from her ex nowhere in sight.
“What happened to your flowers?” Lori asks.
“I had them delivered to a retirement community who won’t see a bastard when they look at them.”
Ouch, I think, when Lori softens her voice and leans on Ashley’s desk. “How are you?”
“I have Smith as my hot bodyguard,” she says, her voice strained. “How can I not be fine?” She glances at me. “Thank you for that by the way.”
“No thanks needed,” I say. “I’m always happy to supply my assistant with a hot bodyguard.”
That earns a tiny laugh from her and a bigger one from Lori, but everyone sobers quickly. “We’ll get answers today,” I promise.
“You have about ten prospective clients to deal with,” she says. “You don’t have time for me and this.” She holds up a file. “I put together notes on all of them.”
Lori accepts the file and glances at me. “I’ll do this.” She looks between us and then focuses on Ashley. “Then Cole can help you.” She doesn’t wait for an answer, but rather glances at me. “I’m going to my office. I’ll let you know if there’s anything important to deal with.” She takes off, and I try really damn hard not to watch her leave, but she’s in that damn pink dress that hugs her backside just right.
Forcing my attention back to Ashley, I get back on task. “I need to speak to Alexander Montgomery. Hunt him down for me, will you?”
“Alexander Montgomery? Are you working a case with him?”
“More like a business proposal and you can tell him that.” I soften my voice. “We’ll handle this,” I say, and then head to my office.
I’ve just settled behind my desk when Royce calls. “The FBI wants to talk to Ashley. I’ll sit in and host the meeting here at my office.”
“The FBI,” I repeat. “I thought this guy she was engaged to was potentially CIA?”
“They’re sharing limited facts right now, but I’ve pressed to ensure Ashley’s safety and I feel they are responsive to my pressure more than anything.”
“I’m going to need to sit in,” I say. “I don’t want her pulled down in some criminal investigation like she was in Paris.”
“Understandable,” he says. “The meeting is at six. Do you want to talk to Ashley or me?”
“I will,” I say grimly, not looking forward to this talk. “We’ll be there.” I disconnect and buzz Ashley. “I need you.”
“Of course you need me,” she replies, trying to be her flippant self, but it’s a choked attempt that tells me how stressed she really is.
She enters my office and I motion to the door. She shuts it and crosses to stand in front of me, her black dress as dark as I suspect her mood to be. “What’s wrong?” she asks, sitting primly on the edge of her chair.
“Royce found out that your ex may be CIA.”
“CIA?” she breathes out. “Really?”
“Really.”
She makes a frustrated sound. “I want this to somehow make him less of an asshole, but he didn’t tell me. I was still some token in a game. Clearly, I still am.”
“I don’t know how to respond to that other than to remind you that we don’t have facts. The FBI wants to interview you tonight. I’ll sit in and so will Royce Walker. It will be at his office.”
“Is that a good or bad thing?”
I repeat what Royce said. “He’s working to protect you. Let’s assume that’s what this is.”
“But I need you,” she says flatly.
“Of course you need me,” I say, giving her a wink.
She swallows hard and gets up. “I need to go work and get my mind off of this.” She walks to the door and I call after her.
“You aren’t alone,” I promise, and she hesitates with her hand on the knob but doesn’t turn. A few beats pass and she says, “Thank you,” and leaves.