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I shoved his shoulder. “Don’t be a pain in my ass.”
He chuckled. “I’m going to tell Bud you said ass so you’ll have to chop onions.”
We got out of the car and walked toward the entrance. “Be nice. Or you won’t have the opportunity to take Bud up on his offer.”
Bud had asked Storm if he might be interested in an old bike he had in his garage in exchange for painting his backyard fence.
“Can you take me over there next weekend so I can start painting?”
I nodded. “Let me talk to Autumn and see what she says.”
Inside Park House, I checked Storm in at the front desk. He surprised me when he extended his hand. “Thanks,” he said.
I smiled as we shook. “No problem.”
On my way back to the car, I felt pretty damn good. It had been too long since I’d spent time with Bud. Plus, I’d gotten the feeling that maybe Bud could use a Storm in his life almost as much as Storm could use a Bud.
Then there was the added bonus—I had a reason to call Autumn tomorrow.
CHAPTER 9
* * *
Donovan
“Everything go okay?” my assistant asked when I finally strolled into the office midafternoon. “I thought you’d be back in a couple of hours.”
I sighed. “Yeah, so did I. Judge O’Halloran denied the plaintiff’s motion for a continuance, so we wound up starting the trial. I’m lucky my opening argument was ready to go.”
“Oh, wow. Yeah, good thing.” She pointed toward my office door. “Your messages are on your desk, but a woman called twice. I don’t think it was a client because I didn’t recognize the name, and when I asked her what it was in reference to, she said it was personal.” My assistant winced. “She sounded sort of upset and frustrated, so you might want to call her back first.”
My forehead wrinkled. I hadn’t pissed any women off lately, at least that I knew of. “What was her name?”
“Autumn Wilde. Her number is on your desk.”
Shit. What did Storm get himself into now? And here I thought I’d gotten through to him a little bit yesterday.
I took off my suit jacket and tossed it over the back of my chair. Before I even had time to look at the stack of messages on my desk, my assistant popped her head into my office. “Umm…you have a call on line one.”
I shook my head. “Tell them I’ll call them back. I need a minute to get organized.”
“It’s Autumn Wilde again.”
I nodded. “I’ll take it. Can you shut the door behind you, please?”
Sitting down at my desk, I grabbed the receiver and pushed line one. “Autumn, what’s going on?”
“Why haven’t you called me back?”
“Because I was in court all morning and afternoon. What happened? Did Storm get in trouble again?”
“No. But I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before he does considering you have him hanging out with drug addicts.”
My head reared back. “What?”
“Why in the world would you think taking a troubled twelve-year-old kid to an abandoned building filled with drug addicts would be a good idea?”
I held my hand up, even though she obviously couldn’t see me. “Hang on a second. I think you only have half the story.”
“Really? So you didn’t take Storm to an abandoned building last night? One that was boarded up?”
“I did, but—”
“And the building wasn’t filled with drug addicts and homeless people? Oh, and one guy calls himself Jesus and offered to have Storm join his disciples?”
I shook my head. “Artemis is harmless. He’s a little mentally ill, but he’d never hurt anyone.”
“Seriously, Donovan? A little mentally ill? What the hell?”
“Listen, I know it sounds bad. But you’re getting everything completely out of context. Did Storm tell you why we were there, or about Bud?”
“Storm didn’t tell me anything. When I saw him earlier today, I asked him how his weekend was, and he just shrugged and said fine. But apparently he’d been bragging to some kids about hanging out in a crack den, and one of the younger boys was smart enough to come tell me—mostly because he looks up to Storm, and the kid’s mother died of a drug overdose, so he was worried.”
Shit. I scrubbed my face with my hands. “Okay. It’s really not what it sounds like. I took Storm to meet Bud—a local who serves a nightly dinner in the community. I’ve known him for more than twenty years. He’s a good guy, and Storm was never out of my sight. He was never in any danger. I swear.”
“If he was never in any danger, and where you took him was such an upstanding place, then why did you lie to the house manager?”
“I didn’t lie. I said I was taking him to dinner.”
“Don’t lawyer me, Donovan. Omitting information is as much a lie as telling an outright lie—because you’re not divulging the true story. It may be perfectly acceptable in your line of work, but it isn’t in mine, or in life in general.”
