Stanford Carlisle has his fingers pressed into a firm triangle in front of him, pressing his lip at the apex.
Deep in thought as he listens.
It’s the longest hour of my life, but once it’s over and he’s heard everything he looks up at Jett with impassive, almost cold gray eyes.
“So?” he finally says. His deep voice is like a gong.
Jett’s brow creases and I can feel him tense, long before I shift my eyes over to his.
“So…” Jett drawls impatiently. “My agent, lawyer, and the director of the prison company suing me already, have plans to take my livelihood right out from under me is so,” he snarls, making Stanford twitch a micro smile, just for a second.
“Purely circumstantial, and a voice recording that could be torn to shreds. If it even did get in front of a competent judge,” Stanford says icily, shrugging and glancing at the mantle clock.
“But is it enough to do anything?” Jett asks, his voice rising with disbelief.
“Oh, plenty,” Stanford snaps back after an agonizing silence, lifting his huge bulk up from his equally huge leather chair.
“So what can we do?” Jett asks.
“Leave it to me, my boy.” The notable lawyer says absently, making it sound like a faraway thing. Not something urgent like Jett and I both know it is.
“But,” Jett says.
Stanford clamps a firm hand on his shoulder.
“What’s that saying about a magician never revealing his tricks?” he asks Jett.
Both of us go quiet.
“Mr. Masters, I have personal connections that would make even your newest acquaintance, Sebastian Hawke blush. When I say leave it to me, I mean leave it to me,” he adds somberly, making his way to the door which he holds open for us.
“And just so you know,” he calls after us once he’s pretty much thrown us out, “I can move pretty quick when I want to. I’ll be in touch. Do not call me. I will call you.”
He closes the heavy oak door with a thud, leaving Jett and me looking at each other. Wondering what just happened.
“I guess we wait.”
As much as I believe him when he said money doesn’t matter, it makes me so mad that anyone would even think about just taking everything from him.
Especially in such a horrible way, making Jett out to be the bad guy.
“They haven’t won yet,” Jett assures me with a smile I know is for my benefit only.
“I’ve got other people ya know,” he tells me. “People I do trust. And I haven’t heard anything from them about whatever these guys have said they’re gonna do.”
“So. You think it might be all bluff?” I ask, confused. Wondering aloud why anyone would even joke about something so sinister, let alone sit around talking about it.
“Oh they mean it,” Jett assures me holding the door open as we step out into the street.
The truck is parked right out front, looking totally out of place by Stanford’s offices downtown.
“I just hope the old man and that Stanford fella are right. I hope they can do something and quickly before we’re beaten to it.”
I have a sudden moment of doubt. There’s a split second when Jett’s eyes meet mine once we get in the car.
The thought of him being beaten, actually losing everything, and going to jail is something my brain can’t comprehend.
“Why don’t we just forget it for now. There’s not much either of us can do anyway?” he says, straining to sound upbeat again.
“I know a good diner we can grab a coffee and Danish?” he asks, smiling. But I’m not laughing.
The very mention of diners is enough to make me feel sick right now.
“Sorry,” he concedes when he sees the look on my face. “That was bad timing.” But I don’t hold it against him. I lean over and kiss him before we pull out into traffic.
The knot in my stomach was no looser than before we went in to see the best lawyer in the state, in the country.
Apparently.
We paint a pretty gloomy picture as Jett cruises around, asking if he thinks we should drop the truck back with John once we stop for some takeout.
“I like it,” I say affectionately.
Only because it already has the memory of my first time, our first time together under the stars attached to it now.
Etched in my mind forever.
“I do too.” Jett smiles, gripping the wheel a little harder and smiling to himself with the same memories.
There’s even enough room for a couple of baby seats in the back…
I’m thinking it out of reflex now. And despite everything else going on, I still can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to babies for some reason.
As if by magic, we pass a baby supply store once we get mobile again and I shoot Jett a curious look as he stoops his head a little to see the store better.