Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(3)
When my dad started doing Freedom Project cases four years ago I didn’t think about how or why people got convicted. And then I noticed that the bulk of wrongful convictions were because of official misconduct—police, prosecutors, and other officials abusing their authority just to clear a case. I know I could do more working for the district attorney’s office than I could ever do working on only one case a year here at Nash Security and Investigation. Unfortunately, this means that Dad’s dream of his son taking over the business like he did from his father just isn’t going to happen.
But right now it’s the start of the summer and I don’t have f*ck all to do for the next couple months except be the office gofer and save my measly paychecks for the coming school year. Only one more year of school and then I’ll be applying for jobs that will take me out of San Diego and out of the running for the new head of Nash Security and Investigation.
Savannah has the radio on because she’s hoping to catch a rerun of Dad’s interview. I’ve already heard it and the recording of it that Dad played for Mom, so I’ve got my earbuds in, listening to Jay-Z uh, uh, uh his way through a song while trying to figure out if I should file The Viking Group’s file under T for The or V for Viking. The door opens. I know this because of the draft that comes in and the sunlight beam that runs along the carpet next to where I’m standing.
The door is open longer than necessary for just one person to walk in, and that’s what makes me turn around. My first thought about the chick coming through the door, hefting one of those tax boxes with the lids, is that she’s got to be in the wrong place. She doesn’t look like a delivery girl and she’s definitely not someone Dad would hire. But she is, without a doubt, absolutely, the most bangable girl I’ve seen in a long time. Too long.
I adjust my stance by the file cabinet for a better view without seeming obvious about it and jerk on the cords of my earbuds so they pop out of my ears. I want to hear what this girl has to say and what her explanation is about the box.
“Can I help you?” Savannah asks the girl.
Savannah’s a couple years older than me and I made the mistake last summer of sleeping with her a few times. She wants a repeat this summer, but I’ve kept my options open. And now, seeing the chick with the box, I’m glad I did.
“I’m here to see Ed Nash,” the girl says, as she flips her blue-and-black streaked hair out of her eyes.
It’s the same blue, I notice, as her eyes. Which is weird because the blue is not an ordinary blue and I don’t normally notice a girl’s eyes. Tits and ass, yes. Legs, maybe. Eyes, no. And now I’m letting my lecherous gaze wander from those startling blue eyes to the rest of her, which is just as extraordinary.
“What’s your name?” Savannah asks.
“Cora Hollis.”
Cora catches me staring as Savannah lowers her head to look at Dad’s appointment book. Cora’s gaze takes the same slow route down, then up my body as mine had done hers. When she finishes I’m half hard and trying not to grin at her smirk. She liked what she saw every bit as much as I liked what I saw. I close the drawer of the file cabinet and lean against it.
“I don’t have you on the books,” Savannah says, her tone set to bitch.
“I don’t have an appointment,” Cora replies, her attention off me and on Savannah. “Do I need an appointment?”
“What’s this about?”
“I was hoping Mr. Nash would take a look at my brother’s case—”
Savannah puts up a hand, interrupting. “You need an appointment to see Mr. Nash to hire him for a case.” Savannah clicks around on her computer and I can see over her shoulder that she’s jumped ahead a few weeks on my dad’s appointment book, past lots of open spots. “His next available appointment is July twenty-third at two o’clock.”
Such bullshit. Savannah must have caught the once-over Cora gave me.
Cora drops the box on the edge of Savannah’s desk like it’s heavy. The way it thunks against the faux-wood laminate, it sounds heavy. “My brother can’t wait a month. I’m here now.” Cora smacks the flat of her hand on the top of the box. “And I’ve brought all of my files. Is Mr. Nash here or not?”
I can see this is going to get ugly, so I slip into Dad’s office. He’s scrolling through a report on his computer.
“Dad?”
“Yeah?” he answers, without turning around.
“Savannah’s trying to scare off a client.”
He turns and blinks up at me over his reading glasses. “Did I forget about an appointment?”
“No. This girl doesn’t have an appointment, but shouldn’t you at least talk to her? Could be an interesting case.”
My father chews this over for a moment. He loves interesting cases, but he loves interesting paying cases more, and I have a feeling that Cora Hollis is going to be the former, not the later.
“You want to sit in on it with me? See how it’s done?”
Up until now I’ve managed to find an excuse to be anywhere but where I might learn how anything in this office is done. I shrug a shoulder, trying to hide how glad I am that I get to find out what Cora’s deal is. “Sure.”
He tosses aside his glasses and runs a hand over the three hairs he combs back to hide his bald spot. “Show her in, then.”