Desperate Girls (Wolfe Security #1)(31)

“It’s not just about the firm,” Brynn said, shaking her arm free. “It’s about my client. His entire future’s at stake, and he’s been sitting behind bars for five months. This kid has no voice, and it’s my responsibility to make his case not just in the courtroom but in the court of public opinion.”

Erik didn’t respond, just glowered down at her.

“I’m his spokesperson. It’s my job to make a positive impression on the public to help offset all the negative things the prosecutor’s already planted in people’s minds through all his leaks to the media!”

“And it’s my job to keep you alive.”

She tipped her head to the side. “Come on, Erik, let’s be real. I researched you guys. You work for celebrities. Do you tell your NFL clients they can’t sign autographs outside the stadium? Do you tell your pop divas they can’t walk the red carpet at the Grammys? Do you tell your senators they can’t give stump speeches? My job is every bit as important as theirs—I’d say more so—and I can’t do it effectively if you make me invisible.”

Erik stared down at her. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Then you can listen.”

“I—”

“Hey.” He held up his hand. “I listened to you.”

She huffed out a breath and crossed her arms.

“We are not a PR firm,” he said, trying to keep his voice even. “You didn’t hire us to put you in front of a camera.”

“I didn’t hire you at all.”

“Are you saying you want to fire me? Because I strongly don’t recommend it.”

“I’m not saying that. I’m saying I want input. I told you in the beginning, I don’t like being bossed around. It pushes my buttons.”

Erik clenched his teeth. Drops of water slid down her neck, disappearing between her breasts, but he managed to keep his focus on her face.

“I’m saying we need to talk about things ahead of time,” she said, “instead of just springing things on me in the moment.”

“I agree.”

She blinked. “You do?”

“Yes. I’m willing to explain our security plans ahead of time and the rationale behind everything, and you can weigh in. But what you can’t do is change the plan and threaten my guys—”

“I didn’t—”

“If you have a problem with something, you take it up with me.”

“Fine.”

“Another thing? Your phone. I have to be able to reach you, so don’t ignore my calls. I won’t contact you unless it’s important.”

She looked suspicious, and he could see his willingness to compromise had caught her off guard.

“Do we understand each other?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

She reached for the towel on the chair and patted her arms dry.

“So what’s wrong?” he asked. “You seem stressed.”

This, too, seemed to catch her off guard.

“I am stressed. It was a long, tedious day. I came up here to blow off steam and get away from annoying people.” She wrapped the towel around her waist and glared up at him.

Her skin was flushed, and it wasn’t just from exercise. She was all fired up, and maybe he shouldn’t have plucked her out of the pool, but he’d had it with her ignoring him. That shit was over, as of right now.

Brynn twisted her hair into a knot. “You said there was something important. What is it?”

“You have visitors downstairs.”

“Visitors?”

“Homicide cops,” he said. “They need to talk to you.”





LINDSEY WAS expecting business attire, but Brynn Holloran showed up in a damp swimsuit and sweatpants, with a towel around her neck and her supersized bodyguard trailing closely behind her.

Max tried to cover his surprise as he stepped forward to shake her hand. “Ms. Holloran, I’m Detective Gorman. We spoke on the phone the other night. Thanks for meeting with us.”

“Of course.” The lawyer looked at Lindsey. “And you are?”

“Lindsey Leary. I’m pitching in on the case.”

“Great.” She glanced around the apartment, which looked about as homey as a dentist’s waiting room. “We can sit in here,” she said, leading them to a long table.

Brynn took a seat at the head of the table opposite Jeremy, the bodyguard who had let them in here. Everyone claimed a chair except for Erik Morgan, who leaned against the bar. Lindsey had just met the man, but she pegged him for ex-military based on his perfect posture, short haircut, and steely gaze.

“So what can I do for you?” Brynn asked.

“We hear you’re on the Sebring trial,” Max said.

“That’s right.”

“Conlon trying that one?”

“He is.”

“Tough case.”

“Yes. But I assume you’re here to discuss Jen Ballard’s case?”

“We are.” Lindsey scooted her chair in. “We believe you can help with our investigation. I understand you and Jen were friends?”

“Yes.”