Jay Crownover - Charged

“I’m retired, Avett. What else am I going to do with my time?” I guess he had a point, and as he came around to open my door, I hooked my hand in the elbow he offered, and took a deep breath. My nerves kicked into high gear and my tummy started to tie itself into knots.

“I hope they appreciate you and what you do for them.”

He patted my hand where it had gone clammy against his tattooed arm. “Doesn’t matter if they do, or don’t. I appreciate them and what they do for me.” And there it was. He was giant-sized, he took no shit from anyone, he was grizzly, and he was gruff, but there would never be a better heart than the one that beat strong and true inside of Brite Walker. He was amazing through and through. I knew I had never done a single thing in my short life to deserve him, but I was selfish and greedy enough to know I would never, ever let him go. Even if I knew I would never feel entirely worthy of his loyalty and devotion to me.

His voice rumbled over my head and distracted me from my dark musings. “You ready to do this, Sprite?”

I took a deep breath as he pulled open the door and guided me towards the security line. “As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

We didn’t say anything else as we passed through the security checkpoint, the officers giving my dad pointed looks and predictably pulling him aside to run the wand over him before they let us go. We found the tiny room Quaid had instructed us to meet him in outside of the actual courtroom. When we walked in, he was already there tapping away on his phone and looking as sharp and as pulled together as ever.

Today’s suit was black and the shirt under was a charcoal gray. The silk tie knotted at his tanned throat was a pretty royal blue and all of it made him look good enough to eat. The man wore a suit well, but I was curious to know what he looked like out of it. There had been one picture Google was generous enough to share with me of him in his Army fatigues, but he was so young then—a boy, really, and not the tall, imposing man that stood before me now. I wondered if he ever relaxed, if he took the suit off when he got home and rocked a pair of tattered sweats and a stained T-shirt. I doubted it, but I would bet good money that he looked as good in casual wear as he did in a thousand-dollar suit.

His eyes roved over me and he gave a quick nod before reaching out to shake my dad’s offered hand.

“I see you took my advice to heart, Ms. Walker. This will do, this will do nicely.” I rolled my eyes at him when he called me Ms. Walker. For weeks now, I’d been Avett when we were alone in his office, and he had been Quaid. The formal title was a reminder that it was showtime and I better get my act together for the powers that be.

“Thanks. Dad picked it out and I spent forever trying to hide the pink hair. This is the best I could do.” I turned my head slightly to the side so he could see the bun, and if I hadn’t been standing right in front of him, I would’ve missed the barely there breath of what seemed like relief that whispered out of him.

“The work paid off.”

I nodded my head a little and met his chilly gaze with one of my own. “Whatever happens today is happening to me. I’m going to face the music, own up to the fact I messed up, picked the wrong person. Again. And I’m going to do that as me. Me, who has pink hair and won’t be caught dead in a power suit.” I let my eyes roll over his long and elegant frame draped in material that cost more than my dad’s monthly mortgage payment. “No offense.”

Like he would take any. No man on Earth had ever looked as good in a suit as this one did. I mean, I was pretty sure that was an actual fact.

His eyebrows lifted a hint as the edge of his mouth dipped because he wasn’t going to let himself smile at me. “None taken and you don’t need a power suit. What you’re working with is fine and more importantly you seem comfortable. That comes across as earnest and honest. We don’t need you in anything that would make you fidgety and uneasy. That behavior comes across as anxious and guilty.”

He turned away from me and moved to the table where his computer and a bunch of paperwork was laid out. “Remember the State gets to play their hand first. They’re going to bring up every single thing on your record. They’re going to bring up the fact you dropped out of school. They’re going to hammer the point that you worked at the bar, that you were fired, that you were upset your dad sold it.”

My dad stiffened behind me but I didn’t turn around. I nodded at Quaid. “I’m ready for it.”

“They are going to try and convince the judge you were there to help Jared, that you are a legitimate threat to society, and that you would be better off behind bars, then they are going to try and sway the judge with generosity by offering up the plea bargain.” He gave me a pointed look. “I don’t get to do my part until all of that is over, so you have to sit there and keep it together while they drag you through the mud. Both of you need to keep it together. Am I making myself clear?”

I peeked over my shoulder and saw that my dad was scowling again and that he seemed almost as anxious as I was feeling on the inside.

“I hear you, son.” My dad’s voice rumbled low and hard through the tiny room.

Quaid nodded. “Good. I’m here for one reason and one reason only, to win this judgment for you. The State has a decent enough case, but mediocre isn’t good enough when I’m the opposing counsel. We’re in this together, got it?”

He’s been telling me that for weeks, saying this was his battle as much as it was mine, but since I was the only one with something to lose, namely my freedom, I’d had a hard time believing him. Here in this tiny room, with my dad practically vibrating with tension at my back and him seeping confidence and talent in front of me, I actually started to believe him.

“Okay. We’re in this together.”

His eyes thawed just a hint and warm shots of pewter blazed from the depths. That look made my heart beat faster and some of the anxiety that was riding me warmed into something that was heavy and more languid. Even though it was the least likely thing in the world to happen, I realized I would totally fuck my attorney. Exactly like those girls had been talking about at the arraignment. He was hot in a way that was totally foreign to anything I had ever considered sexy before, beautiful even, but it was his steadiness, his indomitable attitude, that pulled at me.

Quaid wasn’t reckless or rash. He was a man with a plan, with the kind of fortitude to put that plan into action, and follow it through to the end. He most definitely had his shit together. While that never appealed to me before, it was suddenly the most desirable trait I had ever seen in a man. He was flawless, and to someone that was deeply and tragically flawed, it was impossible not to be fascinated by that kind of perfection.

I pulled a whoosh of air into my lungs and held it as I followed him out of the room and into the courtroom. Since this was the preliminary hearing, the only people in the room were the court recorder, the prosecutor plus his assistant, and our little entourage. It should be less nerve-racking to have all my mistakes laid out in front of a smaller audience, but since this audience mattered more, and my father was a part of it, my stomach churned and burned as we took a seat on our side of the room.

The prosecutor was the same one from the arraignment. He walked over and shook Quaid’s hand before he sat down and let his gaze skim over my attorney’s slick attire.

“Nice suit, Jackson.”

Quaid gave the other man a smile, but it wasn’t a nice one. It was a smile that had too much teeth in it and it didn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy like I usually felt when he grinned.