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“What does that have to do with Lake killing Mitch?” Dash asked before I could.
She sighed as if exasperated. “You’ve got too many eyes on you. Your enemies, the law,”—she ticked off on her fingers—”and as soon as someone breaks a fingernail because of you, even if they are trying to kill you, you’re going down. You can’t watch your back and keep your freedom. She figured that out.”
“She wanted to protect him,” Willow whispered.
I couldn’t process this—Lake believing she needed to or could protect me. I’d never given her a reason, but she would give me answers. First, I needed to get my hands on her.
“Fuck this. How do we get her out?” I glanced at my best friend, knowing the answer before it was spoken.
“We need my dad,” Dash replied with gritted teeth.
* * *
I followed behind Dash, feeling uneasy for the first time when entering the overstated extravagance of his childhood home.
Cale Chambers was a ruthless man.
It was fitting that he had one of the most cutthroat legal team known in the free world. It was also known that he was hell-bent on extricating me from Dash’s life. I had become a liability issue to his family’s name. His legal team had kept me from answering for many violent and damaging offenses. There had only been one slip-thru with my stint in juvie seven years ago, but I would have been slapped with a much larger sentence if it weren’t for Cale’s lawyers—and he never let me forget it.
I had believed then that Lake set me up, only to find out it had been a jealous team member and an ex-jumpoff. I felt the muscle in my jaw twitch at the reminder of all I had done to her because—simply put—I was a tool. If they had succeeded, not only would Lake not have been mine, but also I would have hurt her.
“Dash, what a pleasant surprise,” the haughty voice of his mother greeted him followed by the click of her heels. She appeared looking very much like the well-kept trophy wife she was. Her gaze passed over me briefly and just as quickly, dismissed me as insignificant. She may not have despised me as much as her husband, but she never did little more than tolerate me.
Dash brushed his lips against her cheek and took a step back, too distracted to show proper affection. “Where’s my dad?”
“He’s in his study, as usual.” Her back stiffened as her now cold gaze flickered back to me. “What’s this about?” she asked with unmistakable exasperation in her tone.
“Lake’s in trouble.” He missed her surprised reaction because he had already taken off for the back of the house.
“I knew you’d corrupt that girl,” she hissed when he was gone.
“Yeah?” I kept my emotions in check. Dash would never tolerate me tossing his mother over my shoulder and then on her ass. “You should have stopped me then.”
It was a reminder that I didn’t like to be challenged. She huffed and stomped off, no doubt after Dash.
I ran through the mental checklist Lake taught me after one too many jealous rages over the course of our relationship.
1. Take a deep breath.
2. Think about the person in front of you. Are they worth it?
3. Think about yourself. Is it worth your freedom?
4. Think about what you have. Is it worth losing those important to you?
5. If any of the answers are no then release and move on.
I still didn’t get it, but at least it was better than counting to one hundred as some dipshit counselor advised when the university ordered me to take anger management classes.
I followed behind and found them all tense in Cale’s study. Dash must have already relayed why we were here. Cale took one look at me and instantly froze over the Arctic.
“No.”
Dash shook his head and calmer than I knew he was feeling inside, he stated, “That’s not an option.”
“It’s the only option. I’m not cleaning up his mess anymore,” he shouted while pointing a finger at me in the doorway. I was having a harder time remembering Lake’s checklist more by the minute.
“An innocent girl will go to jail, pops.”
“She probably isn’t innocent. Have you thought about that?”
“What the fuck? Lake’s not a murderer. You don’t even know her.”
“But I do know they couldn’t make a legal arrest without some kind of evidence connecting her. Guilty by a little or guilty by a lot, you’re still guilty.”
“Fine. I’ll hire him myself.”
“I’ve been his client—his biggest client—for over twenty years. He won’t take you on without my say so. Now get the fuck out of my house.” I stood up straighter at the hateful glare he imperiled on his son.
