Page 45 of Rough Hard Fierce (Chicago Underground 1-3)
Colin nodded as if he’d expected as much.
“Bad enough the quality issues,” Philip said. “Now with shipping trouble too. It’s gotta be a setup.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Colin said.
Philip inclined his head as if that settled things. I wondered if I could have as much trust in Colin as that.
I let my mind drift while they talked shop. I’d gone to the parenting clinic for testing and contraception earlier today. The doctor had been different, but the nurse had been the same as two years ago. She hadn’t recognized me. I’d gritted my teeth against their vacant expressions and impersonal touches in my most private areas, but at least that was better than the alternative.
Laramie joined us soon after. Laramie the Lawyer, though I kept that moniker to myself. He had soft features and kind eyes, all the better to trust him with. He, at least, was introduced formally to me. This was Drew Laramie, attorney-at-law and family friend. I was Allie Winters, the one with “the problem.”
I had a short speech prepared. What I’d told Colin but with details. When Bailey was born, what her birth certificate read, how I’d supported her all this time. These things had seemed important in the light of day when I’d anticipated and dreaded this meeting.
But here, in the dark, with the men settling in and throwing their words above my head, my planned words seemed superfluous, as if the details hardly mattered. Laramie sat across from Colin. Philip served us all drinks, somehow managing to not look the least bit subservient. He served me first, as the lady, I supposed. I brooded into my glass of water while the men were given an amber liquid.
“It looks like he hasn’t filed yet, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Laramie said, finally addressing the case. “These things take time.”
“And you know we’d rather avoid that altogether,” said Philip.
“I understand. I have Roark looking into his background. If we can find something appropriate…” Laramie let the sentence die as he took a sip from the drink Philip handed him.
“That’s risky,” Colin said.
Laramie nodded. “Hard to say how a man’ll react until he’s pressed into a corner. You mentioned paying him off, but that carries its own risks. Technically there’d be no guarantee he wouldn’t file at some future date or press for more money.”
“Oh, he’ll stick to the deal,” Philip said.
Laramie smiled without humor. “There’s persuasion, but you don’t need me for that.”
God, no more violence. Please.
“She doesn’t want that,” Colin said.
They paused in unison and looked at me.
“Definitely not,” I said. Which seemed to work, because they resumed talking around me, about negotiations and agreements. Riddles cloaked in ordinary words. At least there was no more talk of persuasion.
It was like I’d stumbled into some sort of Mad Hatter’s tea party. I should speak up, I knew. I should advocate for Bailey, but despite the questionable ethics of some of their suggestions, they seemed to have a much better grasp on the possible solutions than I did.
If only Philip would look at me when he talked about me.
Laramie did, giving the occasional sympathetic glance, particularly when he mentioned Bailey specifically. Colin also looked at me with his usual impassivity, though he directed his comments at the other men.
Philip looked at the other men and, on occasion, at the air beside me. Never at me. After Andrew, I’d lost any claim to be a great judge of character, but everything about Philip made me nervous.
I trusted Colin, and he trusted Philip. Colin seemed to think that was enough, but I was starting to realize trust didn’t work by proxy.
Laramie’s eyes caught mine, an apology in them. “This man, did he ever hurt you?”
“What?” The very worst liar in the world, my eyes widened and my hands clenched.
“If he did,” Laramie said carefully, “it would certainly help our case. Give us leverage.”
I stared into his gentle eyes with my mouth open.
“Allie?” Colin said, but I couldn’t look at him.
Laramie was silent, watching me.
