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“Playboy overheard Autumn call you that.” My boss’ annoying smirk causes me to grip the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white. “He told Hacker, who told Cash, who then told the entire MC.” He shrugs unapologetically. “Welcome to Silver Spoon Falls, the home of no privacy.”
“Does anyone else know?” Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire town knows by now.
“Oh, I’m sure they do.” Jude laughs as I pull up at a stoplight. The light turns green, but I wait until he takes a sip of his coffee before stepping on the gas. “Fucker,” my boss sputters as the hot liquid drips down his chest.
“Oops.” My reaction might be considered childish, but I don’t regret it. Good God. A thought suddenly occurs to me. My little rebel is rubbing off on me.
“Oops, my fucking ass,” Jude growls and dabs at the stain with a napkin. “You owe me a new goddamn shirt.”
“Bill me.” Buying this fucker a new dress shirt will be a small price to pay for the enjoyment I received.
“Don’t you worry. I plan to,” Jude tells me before grumbling under his breath. “You’re lucky you’re a brilliant lawyer or I’d have you back taking care of traffic tickets with the new hires.” We both know that won’t be happening.
We spend the rest of the nearly four-hour drive going over our strategy. Jack’s report gave us quite a bit of insight into the Broussard women. Josie’s husband died when her daughter, Lynn, was two years old. Josie worked three jobs at a time to support them without family support.
When Lynn was sixteen, Josie took a job working as a maid for Jimmy Gatlin and his wife. A year later, Josie abruptly quit her job and moved several hours away after filing a police report claiming Jimmy had made sexual advances to her underaged daughter. Four months later, Josie dropped the charges. Within hours, her bank account mysteriously increased by six figures, and Jimmy Gatlin created a college fund to benefit Lynn Broussard. Jack couldn’t find the actual agreement, but there’s no doubt the dickhead paid them off. Now, I need to convince Josie and Lynn to confirm it. Then I’ll hang that motherfucker by the balls and move onto the very important task of knocking my girl up.
We pull up outside the modest ranch house on the outskirts of San Antonio just before lunch time. It’s easy to see that the woman who opens the door has had a hard life. According to our report, Josie Broussard is forty-one, but she appears to be at least ten years older. “Ms. Broussard?” I ask.
“Yes,” she confirms as I hold out my hand to her.
“I’m Zane Montoya,” I tell her and shake her hand before pointing to Jude. “And this is Jude Despora.”
“Please, come in.” She steps back to let us follow her in. “Would you gentlemen like a drink?”
We both shake our heads no and follow her into the living room. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.” I’ve practiced this fucking speech a thousand times. “We really need your help.”
“Before you get started,” she interrupts me, “your investigator told me a little about why you men are here, and I don’t want to waste your time. I don’t think I have any information to help you.” Fear flashes through her eyes, telling me she needs reassurance.
“Please, let me explain the situation to you.” I’m not giving up. I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my little rebel. Josie Broussard listens intently as I describe what the asshole is doing to Autumn. “The success of his lawsuit depends on his lawyer proving that my girl damaged his reputation using false information. We believe you can shed light on Jimmy Gatlin’s true nature and show a pattern of inappropriate behavior with young girls.”
“I can’t help you,” the frightened woman insists, but I’m not ready to give up.
“What can we do to reassure you that you and your daughter won’t be harmed by helping us?” Jude steps in as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I attempt to ignore it, but whoever’s trying to reach me is persistent. The third time it vibrates, I pull it out and discreetly glance at the screen. I see two missed calls and a text from Jack.
I click on the text and read it.
Big news. I need to talk to you now. Urgent.
“Excuse me,” I tell Ms. Broussard as I give Jude a look to convey that this is important. “This is urgent.”
I step out into the hallway and dial Jack’s number. “What news?”
“Jimmy Gatlin’s twenty-three-year-old step-daughter just made a police report claiming that he’s been having inappropriate relations with her for several years. Evidently, a few of her friends also have stories to share. The dumbass actually sent inappropriate texts to a judge’s daughter.” The rat bastard. Disgust roars through me at the thought of this dickhead preying on other girls. “He isn’t going to weasel his way out of this one.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” I tell him as all the implications roar through me. This is much bigger than just my girl. “Can you email me the full report?”
“It’s already on the way to you.”
“Thanks.” I hang up and rub the back of my neck as my mind whirls.
I walk back into the living room and interrupt Jude. “Ms. Broussard, there’s something you need to know.”
I explain the new turn of events to Josie Broussard and Jude. She doesn’t appear to be shocked at all that the bastard had more victims. After thanking her for her time, we leave to head home. Tomorrow morning, Jude is going to file an emergency request to have the suit put on hold until the criminal proceedings against Jimmy Gatlin are adjudicated since they have a direct bearing on the defamation suit.
It’s the longest fucking drive home, but I want to discuss the situation with my little rebel in person. My soft-hearted troublemaker isn't going to be happy that there are more victims.
After I drop Jude off at the office, I race home. It’s after ten o’clock when I finally unlock my apartment door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I find the alarm activated and my little rebel sound asleep on the sofa.
