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“I need you to pick up another pro bono case.”
Fuck. I’d already done my annual allotment. What I needed was to bill every last hour I could before the partners’ vote, not spend hours on an unbillable case. Yet…I needed Dickson, so I sucked it up. “No problem. Send me the file, and I’ll look at it first thing in the morning.”
“I need you to jump on it right now.”
“Now?”
“Can you get down to the seventy-fifth precinct?”
That was the last place I wanted to go at any time of the day. I frowned, but answered, “Yeah, sure.”
“The kid’s name is Storm. He’s a minor.”
“First or last name?”
“Pretty sure it’s his last name. He goes by Storm, so I’m not sure what his first name is. His social worker is on her way and will meet you there.”
“Okay. No, problem.”
“Thanks, Decker. I owe you one.”
I swiped my phone off. The fucker better remember that in two months.
***
I hadn’t stepped foot in this place in more than thirteen years, yet the minute I walked in, I recognized the familiar smell. Trying to ignore the memory, I headed right to the desk sergeant.
“How you doing? Do you have a kid named Storm here? I’m not sure if it’s his last name or first.”
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m his legal counsel.”
The old timer looked me up and down. “I’m guessing this is pro bono for some fancy firm.”
“Good guess. I take it he’s here?”
The cop picked up the phone and punched in a few numbers. “I got a pretty boy out here for Storm. Looks more expensive per hour than my ex-wife’s asshole divorce attorney I had to shell out for, so…no rush.”
The police weren’t exactly fans of defense attorneys. I shook my head. “You should try a more original hobby. Being miserable to all lawyers is pretty cliché. But regardless, I shouldn’t have to remind you that all questioning stops now. And I assume you’ve made the requisite good-faith attempt to contact the kid’s parent or guardian before asking him anything.”
“Are you sure you’re not related to the kid? You have the same winning disposition.” He motioned toward the other side of the room and went back to staring at his computer. “Make yourself comfortable on the nice wooden bench. I’ll call you whenever we get around to it.”
I sighed, but I knew arguing at a police station was generally pointless. So I did as told and parked my ass on the bench. A half hour later, I was engrossed in answering emails when I heard the station door open and close. I didn’t bother to look up until I heard the sergeant say Augustus Storm. He was talking on the phone again, while a woman stood in front of him at the desk.
Augustus, huh? I smirked. No wonder the kid stuck with Storm. It was hard enough to gain respect in this neighborhood without being saddled with a name like Augustus. I straightened my tie and stood, intending to walk over to the woman I assumed was the kid’s social worker. But one look at her profile and my step faltered.
I froze.
The side of her face looked awfully familiar…
As I stared, she again spoke to the desk sergeant, so I leaned in and paid close attention.
That voice.
I knew that sweet, feathery sound—the kind that could tell a person to fuck off without them even knowing it.
But it wasn’t until the sergeant pointed in my direction, and the woman turned, that I realized this woman had told me to fuck off—not in so many words but with her actions. Our eyes met and I smiled, though the sentiment wasn’t reciprocated. Instead, the woman’s eyes widened as I approached.
“Hello, Autumn.”
CHAPTER 3
* * *
Autumn
Oh crap.
The desk sergeant, completely oblivious to our reactions, waved his hand in Donovan’s direction. “Kid’s lawyer is over there.”
“Umm…yeah. Thank you.”
I took a few hesitant steps. Lord, he was even better looking than I remembered. Wow. Just…wow.
His eyes were a unique blue-gray color to begin with, but the sparkle currently emanating from them made it nearly impossible to look away.
I cleared my throat. “Hello.”
He held out his hand. “From the look on your face, I assume you didn’t expect to see me either.”
I shook my head. “Definitely not.”
His hand was still outstretched, and he pointed his eyes down. “It’s clean, I swear. Washed them in the men’s room a little while ago.”
I felt foolish avoiding contact, so I put my hand in his. Just like the first time, it hit with a spark. My pulse raced, and goose bumps dashed up my arm, over my shoulder, and straight to the back of my neck, making all the little hairs stand up. Except now it was even worse than the first time, because I knew what it felt like to have those hands all over my body—best sexual chemistry of my life, by a landslide, and we’d never even had actual sex.
