“I don’t need your help handling my relationship with Autumn.” That’s way more than I intended to give him.
“So you admit it’s a relationship.” Cash catches my slip and calls me on it.
“I’m not admitting anything.” I listen to my older brother laugh on the other end of the line. “Now, I’m busy. Working.” We both know that’s a lie, but he doesn’t call me on it.
After hanging up, I wrangle my crazy emotions under control and get to work on Autumn’s case. First, I contact Finn “Hacker” Taylor, another of Cash’s MC brothers, to ask for a favor. The computer guru is the best at digging up skeletons, and there’s no doubt that a sleazy motherfucker like Jimmy Gatlin has a ton of dirt to find.
I explain the situation to Hacker, leaving out the part about me losing my heart to my new client, and he agrees to do some digging. “I’ll see what’s out there and get back to you.”
“I owe you one,” I tell him, feeling more in control of the situation.
“Just don’t fuck over Autumn.” He doesn’t beat around the bush.
Goddamnit. “Does everyone in this town know what happened this morning?” After living in New York for several years, I guess it will take some time to get accustomed to the small town way of life.
“Nothing stays secret in Silver Spoon Falls for more than five seconds,” Hacker confirms my worst suspicion. “But you’ll get used to it.” I’m not too sure about that. “Or you’ll die when Playboy figures out you’re sniffing around his little sister.” That thought has crossed my mind several times, but the risk doesn’t stop me from wanting to find out everything there is to know about my little rebel.
For this purpose, I decide to use the firm investigator and call it a routine client investigation. Jack Solis gets back to me within an hour with a full report on Autumn Gianna Romano. I glance over it quickly but don’t find anything I didn’t already know. My stomach growls, reminding me that I forgot to eat breakfast or lunch, so I pack up my things to head home. I plan to read over the report and figure out my next move. And maybe get these crazy feelings under control before I make a total fool of myself.
CHAPTERTHREE
AUTUMN
Ineed to fire Zane Montoya as my lawyer. It’s been the first item on my list for two days in a row, and for two days in a row, he’s managed to keep his job as my lawyer. I think the universe is conspiring against me to keep me from following through.
It’s not because I like him. Definitely not. Nope. Because Idon't. Not even if he is sexy as sin with that dark stare and those broad shoulders.
“What the fuck is going on with you and Zane?” Andreas growls, stomping into my office with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie undone.
He never had much patience for paperwork and red tape. It stresses him out faster than I do.
“Zane who?” I ask.
He turns a dark glower on me. “Cash told Finn who told Giant who told me that Zane is all worked up over you,” he says, inviting himself to take a seat at my desk as if this is happy hour. It’s not. I have work to do. The company's environmental policy isn't going to rewrite itself.
Now that Andreas has given me free rein to repair some of the damage our father did to the environment, I'm doing everything I can to make sure Romano Shipping pays for the damage they've caused. The lawyers don't like it much, but I don’t really care. Maybe they should have stood up to my criminal father when he was dumping hazardous waste into the oceans or running ships through fragile ecosystems.
“Is he fucking bothering you?” Andreas demands.
“Oh my God,” I groan, laying my head on my desk. “Your MC is worse than the old ladies down at the diner. You have way too much time on your hands. All you guys do is gossip.”
“No, we do not.”
“Yes, you do. Cash told Finn who told Giant who told me,” I repeat, mimicking his deep baritone as I lift my head to scowl at him. “I lived with two other women, and we gossiped less than you guys do!”
“We do not gos—” Andreas narrows his eyes on me. “You’re avoiding the subject.”
“What subject?” I ask innocently.
“Zane,” he growls. “What’s going on with the two of you?”
“He’s my lawyer.” I grimace. “Temporarily.”
“Temporarily?”
I tear my to-do list from my notepad and pass it across the desk to him without a word.
“Fire Zane Montoya,” he reads, one brow arching. “And it’s underlined. Twice.”