Vindicate (Recovered Innocence #1)(4)
I arrive back at the reception area just in time. Cora’s leaning across her box, pointing a finger in Savannah’s face. Savannah hates that shit more than she hates being stood up, which I did to her last night. This is why she’s been such a bitch all day and giving Cora a hard time for no reason.
I finally understand the phrase “Don’t shit where you eat.”
“Mr. Nash has time for you now,” I say, moving to pick up Cora’s box.
She jerks it away before I can get a hand on it. “Thanks,” she says. “I’ve got it.”
“Are you sure? It looks heavy.” I can feel Savannah glaring at me like a hot laser on the side of my face.
“I just carried it up a flight of stairs,” Cora says. “I think I can manage another few feet.”
I gesture for her to precede me. As she passes I get a whiff of something spicy. My thoughts immediately go into the gutter and my gaze fixes on her ass as I follow her into Dad’s office. I’ve got to find out what this chick’s story is. Does she have a boyfriend? Does she live close by? Can I get her number?
As I close the door to Dad’s office, I catch Savannah flipping me off. Shit. She caught me checking out Cora. I really screwed up with Savannah. She’s nice and all, but I’m not looking to hook up permanently, which was all she talked about when I wasn’t drilling her into the mattress. I’m such an * sometimes I can’t believe any chick would want to have anything to do with me half the time.
I’ve got to find a way to fix things with Savannah. Or this summer is going to be a living hell.
“Cora Hollis,” I begin the introductions. “This is Ed Nash. And I’m Leo. Leo Nash. Dad, Cora Hollis.”
Dad comes around his desk to try and take Cora’s box for her, but she won’t let him. I like her independence. I like a whole hell of a lot about her.
She sets the box next to one of the chairs and holds her hand out to my dad. “Thank you for seeing me without an appointment.”
“My pleasure. Please, have a seat.”
She takes the one closest to the door, next to where she put her box, and I take the one on the other side. I can look at her now without seeming like a big giant creep. It’s like my senses have gone supersonic where she’s concerned. I take in everything about her. Like her nails, which are long and painted that same vivid blue—Cora blue—all except for her pinkies. Those she’s chewed to nubs. She dresses like she couldn’t care less what people think of her. I respect that. There’s something about her that’s lost, but she acts as though she knows exactly where she’s going. And she doesn’t seem to give a shit about me, which makes me like her even more.
“What can I do for you, Ms. Hollis?” Dad asks.
“I understand your agency does pro bono work for The Freedom Project,” Cora begins. “My brother, Beau, was falsely convicted of the rape and murder of his ex-girlfriend five and a half years ago. He’s serving a life sentence without the possibility of parole.”
“I’m sorry,” Dad says, and I want to kick him under the desk, “but we’ve already taken on our one case for the year. If you come back in December—”
She pops out of her seat, her hands out in front of her, pleading. She’s suddenly vibrating with anger, frustration, desperation, or maybe a mixture of all three. I can’t stop staring at her. She rivets me. She’s like one of those warrior women, going into battle. I imagine her with a shield and a cape that flaps out behind her.
“Every day my brother sits in prison is another day he could be killed.” Her voice cracks on the last word. “He’s survived two thousand seventeen such days already, including today. I’ve spent every single one of those days working to get him free.” She folds her hands over her heart. “Please reconsider. I’ll pay you what I can. I have some money. I’ll even help with legwork or whatever.” She gestures to the box on the floor, the one I’ve been curious about from the moment I saw her with it. “I’ve brought all my work with me. Please. I need your help.”
She doesn’t look like she wants or needs anyone’s help, but here she is, standing in the middle of my dad’s office, demanding it. I switch my attention to Dad, who seems just as struck by her intensity as I am. I can see him wavering. But he can’t afford to take on another charity case.
“He’s only twenty-three,” she says. “Maurice Battle sat in prison, convicted for a crime he didn’t commit, for thirty-nine years. He was nineteen when he went in and fifty-eight when he finally came out. I don’t want that for my brother. Please.”
“I could help.” Both of their heads swivel in my direction. I didn’t realize I’d opened my mouth, but now that the words are out I’m not sorry I said them. “With your guidance,” I add lamely.
Dad considers me for a moment. I can see the wheels turning in his head. He’s thinking that this might be the way he gets me to finally agree to take over the agency. He looks at Cora, who’s staring at me like I just ruined her moment, like she can’t believe what a dumbass I am. I can’t blame her. I am a dumbass. This is a stupid idea. I’ve just put the noose around my own neck. But I don’t really care about me right now.
I look up into her face, into those electric-blue eyes, and I want to be her hero. I want to go through that box with her, follow leads, and do other investigative-type stuff. I want to find the clue that will set her brother free.