Page 3 of Lawyer

“Just give me a name. Something I can dangle in front of the prosecutor,” I say. “I want to give them a bigger fish to go after.”

Her skin seems to grow ashen as she visibly draws in on herself. Aria slumps down into her chair, ducking her head down, almost as if she’s trying to make herself even smaller than she already is. Eyes wide, she shakes her head.

“No, I can’t,” she stammers.

“Aria—”

“No. No names.”

I blow out a long breath and run a hand through my hair. As I look at her and grit my teeth, theclack-clack-clackof me tapping my pen on the tabletop fills the air between us. My back is rigidly straight, and I shake my head. Intransigent clients aren’t anything new to me. I’ll get the information from her, but this isn’t a hill I need to die on. Not right now anyway.

“All right,” I say.

“So… what’s next?”

I run my hand along my jawline and the light-colored stubble that dots it makes a dry, scratchy sound.

“Now, we get you out of this hellhole,” I tell her.

2

Aria

“Aria, your order’s up,” my boss calls. “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I call back. “Be right there, Dale.”

I roll my eyes and struggle to keep from scowling at him. Dale’s not a bad guy, but he’s wound a little too tight. Especially during football season. Whenever there’s a game on, the place is flooded with drunk, rowdy guys who are sometimes a little too grabby, and that stresses Dale out to no end. I keep telling him if he wants to cut down on the groping incidents in the bar, then stop making us wear shorts so short, half our ass cheeks are hanging out and tops so tight, they leave nothing to the imagination.

But he always tells me in return that if he did that, the drunk, horny, rowdy guys who frequent the place would find someplace else to go and spend their money. According to Dale, aside from whatever sporting event happens to be showing on any of the half dozen big screens in the place, the waitresses are the bar’s biggest draw. And that’s probably only because our outfits are the skimpiest of any other sports bar in LA.

If I didn’t need the money so badly, I’d find a different job—one that’s less degrading than this one. A job where I don’t have to worry about having some guy who reeks of cigarettes and stale beer grabbing my ass a thousand times a night. But the tips are usually pretty good—probably better than the money I’d make working some nine-to-five job in a cubicle farm. As decent as the tips are though, it’s still not enough for books and tuition for both me and my little brother.

My grades and test scores got me into UCLA. But they weren’t good enough to earn me any scholarship or grant money. Nor do I have the money to pay for my brother’s education at the boarding school I sent him to after our parents died. There was no way in hell I was going to let the streets get hold of him after that. That’s why I’ve had to find creative ways to supplement my income. And that’s why I’m in the pickle I’m in right now.

“Well, hey there, Aria. Good to see you.”

The moment I hear his voice behind me, my heart nearly stops dead in my chest. I turn around and when our eyes meet, my stomach roils and my hands tremble so hard I nearly drop the tray I’m carrying. Lucas Reynolds is sitting at a table in the dim corner of the bar, a wide smile splitting the dark goatee on his face. His dark eyes bore into me, and I shudder, my veins suddenly feeling like they’ve been filled with ice water.

“L—Lucas,” I reply. “What are you doing here?”

“Came to have a beer. And to see you, of course,” he says.

“Okay. Yeah. Well, it’s pretty crazy in here tonight so I’m not going to have much time to talk to you.”

“I suggest you make the time.”

“Lucas, I—”

“What did you do with the product?” he asks. “Did the cops get it all?”

I look down, my heart thundering hard in my chest. The way Lucas is staring at me, with a predatory glare, makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end and the breath catch in my throat. I lick my lips nervously and give him a small nod.

“They took it when they arrested me,” I confirm.

“The entire stash?”

I nod, my pulse starting to race even faster. A bead of sweat slides down between my shoulder blades and nausea turns my stomach. When I first met Lucas and he offered to help me earn some money, I’d been reticent. I knew he wasn’t a good guy from the start. I’d heard the stories about the terrible things he’d done to other people.

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