Sharon Ashwood - Unchained

“Yeah. Thanks for dealing with the natives.”

He looked satisfied with himself, and the smile he gave her was pure deviltry. “The senior partner assures me there will be no legal action against you for assaulting their colleague. Bannerman’s poor judgment in clientele is enough of an embarrassment to the firm for them to keep this altercation quiet.”

“That’s the best news I’ve heard so far today.” She took his hand, squeezing it and wishing they were alone so she could kiss him. “Guess I need a new lawyer, though.”

“Not necessarily,” said Hashimoto. “Custody settlements can be mediated.”

Ashe squinted at him. For a moment she’d forgotten he was there. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “If both parties agree, a mediator can help them come to an arrangement without going to court. It takes conflict off the table and focuses on a plan everyone can live with.”

Ashe opened her mouth to speak, but Hashimoto held up a hand. “I know this isn’t the time to talk, but let me say this much. The de Larrochas don’t like your lifestyle, but they’re more upset about not getting to see their granddaughter because she’s not in Spain anymore. If you cut them a deal on visitation, I think they’d back off on the unfit-mother routine.”

A ping of surprise made her frown. “I never said they couldn’t see Eden. I just want her living with me.”

Hashimoto handed Ashe his card. “I can’t see how an adversarial court case is going to help either of you. As for you, Ms. Carver, you’ve got too many strikes against you as far as a traditional judge is concerned.”

Ain’t that the truth. I nearly staked my attorney.

He bobbed the card in the air, urging her to take it. “Call me if you want to talk about alternatives. Mediation isn’t necessarily a walk in the park, but it’s your best option.”

Ashe took it. “Aren’t you doing yourself out of a job?”

“I’ve mediated for clients before, and I’d rather have a reputation as a problem solver than a shark. Plus, I’ve wanted to kick Bannerman’s ass for years.” He gave a toothy smile that made him look a lot less sophisticated. “I’d have paid to see that.”

Ashe put his number in her pocket. “Thanks.”

“Nah,” he said, packing up his slim attaché case, “the pleasure was entirely mine.”

Hashimoto gave a casual salute and left the office.

Ashe pulled into her driveway. The house looked quiet, as if all the neighbors were out. By the front fence, tulips shivered in the fitful wind, their pinks and yellows almost painfully bright in the gloom. As they got out of the SUV, Ashe pondered Reynard’s quest. Or really, their quest. Everything led back to the collector demon. At least she didn’t have to feel guilty anymore about taking Reynard away from his mission. Their enemies were the same.

Reynard stood contemplating the flowers as if he hadn’t seen anything blooming for centuries. Maybe he hadn’t. With his hair loose and damp, she could see a chestnut tinge in the waves. It softened his face, except for the eyes kept secret behind sunglasses, even though it had started to drizzle.

“What now?” he asked, clasping his hands behind his back.

She kept her voice businesslike, as if she didn’t want to bury her fingers in that hair. “We need to strategize, but first I have to clean up.”

“I should do the same.”

“Do you want to come in?”

“My clean clothes are in the Castle.”

The statement was simple, but nuances lingered underneath his clipped tone, taking her back to the gym that morning. To the memory of his crushing her between his body and the mirror. She shivered, disappointed and relieved that she wouldn’t be trying to shower and change with him there. Her brain could sure do Technicolor when it needed to. Hot running water, soap suds, and Reynard was a combination akin to a tsunami. It would wipe everything else off the map.

But oh, my Goddess, talk about temptation.

“Come find me when you’re done. We’ve got a lot to talk about.” She turned and walked away, leaving him standing beside the flower bed.

If she didn’t, she was going to jump him right there.

Saturday, April 4, 6:30 p.m.

101.5 FM

“This is a CSUP news bulletin.

“There is a fire in the twelve hundred block of Fort Street. Traffic near the Fort and Main intersection has been blocked off by police. Motorists are asked to take alternate routes through the downtown.

“The Book Burrow, formerly known as Cowan’s Books, is engulfed in flames. Fire crews are concentrating on containment. Neighboring businesses are in no immediate danger, but that could change at any time. Due to the extreme nature of the blaze, which seems to have begun in the attic, firefighters have not been able to enter the building or search for survivors. However, arson is suspected.

“Cowan’s Books, a Fairview institution, had been in that location since 1965. It was recently sold to new owners after the death of the previous owner, William Cowan.

“We will provide updates as more information becomes available.”

Ashe switched off the radio, a rock in her stomach. Spilled oil. Candle. Attic. She finished toweling off from the shower, put on a robe, and then phoned Holly. More and more, she was calling her sister when she needed to talk something out.

“How’s Eden?”

“Enjoying spaghetti, meatballs, and television.”

“No wonder she loves going to your place. Thanks again for looking after her. I know you’re swamped.”

“Not a problem. She’s actually not a bad little baby-sitter.”

Ashe felt an almost irrational pride in her daughter. Way to go, Eden. Then her mind flipped into business mode. “Hey, you hear about the fire?”

“Yeah.”

Ashe hunched, feeling the loss of her childhood bookstore like a physical pain. “I think I might have started it. I spilled the extra oil you sent. I left the candle burning when I had to run.”

“I don’t know if that’s enough to make a blaze that hot.” Holly sounded doubtful. “There was a lot of magic going on. That can change things. Plus, that place is stuffed with old paper.”

“Oh, Hol, all those old books. I loved that place.”

“At least we’re sure that poor little-girl ghost is freed.”

“What if the urn was in there?”

“Did Reynard say anything about feeling it?”

“No.”

“Then probably not.”

Ashe was silent for a moment. “I burned down Mr. Cowan’s bookstore.”

Holly’s voice dropped to her special talking-Asheoff-the-ledge tone. “You don’t know that. The demon might have done something. If he tried to shut down the spell, that might have made something go wrong. Don’t jump to conclusions. You went there to cleanse the store. Maybe this is how it had to happen.”

Ashe was silent. If only demons burned as easily as vampires, but the Tony demon would still be out there, and now it would be pissed.

Before Ashe could dwell on that horrific idea, Holly brought up something else. “Alessandro’s going to meet Lore down there as soon as it’s full dark. Lore’s hounds were guarding the place when it went up, but from the sound of it, they didn’t see anything. Sandro’s going to check the place over for himself.”

Ashe looked out the window at the fading light. “Alessandro’s leaving you and the kids on your own?”

“I’m not helpless, Ashe. Plus we’ve got more hellhounds digging up the flower beds outside.”

Ashe smiled at her sister’s disgusted tone. “You don’t mind keeping the kiddo a bit longer?”

“Let her stay overnight. It’s safe here. No vampires. No demons. You should come stay, too.”