Take a Chance on Me(80)

Instead, she followed his lead and reached for him. “Yes, please.”





The following morning, after Mitch had finally satiated his desire to claim Maddie in every physical way possible and become saner, he asked Maddie again about the day before. Like the night before, she refused to comment. Instead, she looked guilty and avoided the questions by giving his mother her undivided attention.

Mitch had no choice but to take matters into his own hands.

The first stop on the list had been Gracie, who’d been coy, full of smiles, and ultimately unhelpful. Sam had been there, watching him in that speculative way of his, probably filled with some mystical bullshit that would only confound Mitch. Gracie had pushed him out the door with a plate full of pink frosted cupcakes and a “Have a nice day.”

Now, he opened the door to Tommy’s garage and spotted the mechanic sitting in his glass-enclosed office with his attention fixed on a computer screen. Mitch scanned the rest of the place, relieved that Mary Beth was not in sight. Good. Tommy was always more forthcoming when his wife wasn’t around. He pushed his way into the office without knocking, and Tommy whirled around.

When he saw Mitch, his mile-wide shoulders relaxed. “Hey.”

Mitch didn’t see the point of preamble. “I heard Maddie came for a visit yesterday.”

“That’s right,” Tommy said, returning to the computer screen with rapt attention.

“Why?”

Several seconds ticked by. “To pay her bill.”

“I already paid you.” The trained lawyer skills that he’d abandoned long ago stirred. He crossed his arms.

Tommy scratched his head, his face glowing slightly from the monitor. “Yeah, that’s what I told her.”

“And?” Mitch pressed.

The chair under Tommy creaked as he swiveled back and forth. “End of story.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t have to.” The female voice behind Mitch made his stomach sink.

Mary Beth skirted around him, putting her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “She came to pay her bill, we told her you’d already taken care of it, and she left.”

Mary Beth’s cool blue eyes were implacable, unreadable.

Mitch felt like a dog whose fur had been rubbed the wrong way. “What are you hiding?”

She smiled, a bright, cheery expression. “Nothing, but for the record, Counselor, I told her how you bailed on Luke’s case.”

Mitch ground his teeth and spat, “I didn’t bail. I’m doing the right thing.”

“Ha! By being a coward.”

There was that f*cking word again.

“Shit!” Mitch dragged a hand through his hair. Why was this concept so hard for everyone to grasp? “Do you want your nephew defended by someone who’s going to be disbarred?”

One blond brow rose up her forehead and she huffed. “I want Luke to be defended by the best lawyer I know.” She pointed straight at him. “You.”

“You’re crazy.” He glanced at Tommy, appealing for help, but saw nothing but speculation behind the feigned dumb-jock look. “You don’t know the first thing about my skills as a lawyer.”

Mary Beth huffed. “Sam told me you were the one.”

“Oh, for f*ck’s sake!” Mitch yelled.

Why was it that after three years of numb solitude, living on the fringe of this town, everyone now felt they were free to meddle in his life? “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?”

“Not.” Mary Beth’s chin shot up.

Mitch wanted to roar, but he kept his composure, clenching his hands into tight fists. He looked at Tommy. “You?”

Tommy shook his head, and once again, his wife laid her hand on his shoulder: the picture of solidarity.

“Fine.” Mitch stormed out.

Ten minutes later, he sat in front of Charlie, frustration clawing at him like a caged jungle cat. “What the hell do you mean, nothing?”

Charlie’s hard black eyes narrowed. “I mean, nothing.”

“You’re full of shit.” Mitch got up from the plain wooden chair and started to pace in the small, cluttered space. Charlie, more than anyone, should be on his side, but that wasn’t happening. “Something is going on.”

“Relax,” Charlie said, leaning back in his chair with a small smile on his face.

“What the f*ck does that mean?” Mitch pointed at him. “And why are you grinning?”

“Maybe you should concentrate on your real problems,” Charlie suggested mildly.

“The list of my real problems is growing by the hour.”

“Fix the most important one.”

“And what would that be?” He was irritated that no one would tell him what was going on.

Charlie studied him and Mitch snapped, “Don’t try that cop shit on me.”


“Fine.” Charlie shrugged. “You can go now.”

Mitch jerked to a stop. “That’s it?”

“I’ve told you everything I’m going to.”

“You haven’t told me anything.”

“Your point?”

What was the point? Guys like Charlie didn’t break. “Fuck you.”