“You took my car,” I accused.
“I wanted to go see Cai at the jail. And change.”
Luis cleared his throat, and we both turned to glower at his intrusion into our exchange. I rubbed the bridge of my nose and stalked into the kitchen. Much as I wanted to slam cabinets, the sharp thud of swords in my brain reminded me to close them softly. After pouring a glass of water and taking a few aspirin—or was it ten?—I joined Luis in the living room, trying to forget that when I had walked by Peter I could smell cinnamon.
I was going to be mature about this. And ignore him.
“Shouldn’t you be at work?” I said to Luis.
“You didn’t finish telling me about the accounts yesterday,” Luis replied, turning a laptop screen to me. I leaned over to glance at it.
Immediately the idea of working buoyed me, then I remembered Peter could hear us. With a scowl, I looked up at him standing a few paces behind us. The way Peter was staring at the screen nagged me. “You recognize some of this?”
Peter eyed me sideways and nodded. “I recognize the vendor names from when I took over the accounts after Joe died.”
“Glass.”
“Which?” I asked, ignoring Luis’s abbreviated warning about sharing case information with Peter. What the hell. I was suspended and off the case anyway.
“Cai,” was all Peter said.
I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed. “I said I can’t do anything. One, I’m suspended. Two, he’s probably guilty, and three—”
“I don’t need you involved. I need you to pay your father’s fees.”
There wasn’t a juror on earth who would convict me of murder right now. “You’re going to barter information about Iss’s death for money?” Why the fuck was Luis smiling?
“I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“Christ.” I huffed. “My father?”
“Is the best defense attorney in the state.”
“Ay, Dios mio.” Luis exhaled noisily. “This can only end well.”
“I’m not on the case.” I pointed out to Luis. “I don’t have to follow the rules.” Shit. Was I really going to do this? How much information did Peter have? More importantly, how much could I trust him? If at all?
“I have records,” Peter said, as if reading my mind.
“Not my father,” I insisted. “I’m not paying my father.”
“He’s the best criminal attorney in town. I know. I looked it up.”
“No, he’s not,” I sighed. “Angelica is.” To Peter’s non-vocalized query, I responded, “My ex-fiancée.”
Peter nodded at me. “You get her there today. I want him out before the fucking P.D. gets Cai held without bail. I’ll give you more information than you can handle.”
Devious, conniving, scheming, deceitful, manipulative… I ran out of synonyms on my way upstairs.
I AM My Own Worst Enemy
Angelica and I had parted on amicable terms, though she had asked me to give her time. I was breaking the promise to stay away by calling her, and not for completely altruistic purposes. Part of it was that Peter was going to supply information. The other part, the largest part, was Peter’s voice echoing in my head, “Please.” That entreaty was so earnest and plaintive, I couldn’t help but be moved. Peter had me so twisted up in him that I wanted to believe the faith in his brother was justified. For both those reasons, I phoned Angelica from the privacy of my bedroom.
“Are you really moving in with a male prostitute?” she asked when Pauline, her secretary, patched me through. There was anger and hurt lurking in her question, but amusement puddled around there as well. Ten years of friendship seemed only warped, not irrevocably broken, by our breakup.
“I would, if I thought it might give my dad an aneurism. Did he seem close to one when he told you?” I asked hopefully.
Her breath was loud in my ear. “Three days is not giving me time, Austin.” All amusement evaporated from her voice.
“I know. But I have a case for you.”
“The last time you gave me a case, it ended up costing the firm twenty thousand dollars.”
“Pro bono cases are good for the image.” I threw in, “Besides, I’m paying for this one,” before she could argue.
“Austin, abuse cases belong with family court attorneys. You can’t keep sending me these types of—”
“It’s Baby Capone,” I interrupted with the press’s nickname for Cai. The receiver was silent, then there was a flutter of papers, and what sounded like the TV in her office. She was probably checking for a frenzy of reporters surrounding the courthouse and flashing pictures of Cai.