Unbreakable (City Lights, #2)(105)

Reginald Munro, clearly loosened a bit from the $70 per glass Scotch the partners had been plying him with, threw up his hands when he saw me.

“Well, hell’s bells, gentlemen! Who finally came to their senses and called this angel of mercy down from heaven to save your sorry butts?” He chuckled, threw back the rest of his drink and got to his feet. “Ms. Gardener.”

“Mr. Munro. Good to see you again,” I said, the lie slipping like butter off my tongue. I greeted my bosses coolly, hardly glancing at Dooney but sparing Jon Lawson a brief smile. Then I turned back to my client. “How are things?”

That was for Mr. Dooney. I knew perfectly well that Munro would now regale me—and him—with another earful of what they’d been getting all week.

And I was right. Munro ranted for a solid five minutes, peppering his complaints with sloppy laughter, sips of Scotch, and messy bites of table crackers smeared with caviar while I listened intently, my attention focused solely on him, nodding my head and clucking my dismay in all the right places.

“Yes, I can understand you’re upset,” I said when he paused to take a breath—and another drink. “Christopher Upton is a first-rate attorney, but there are challenges associated with taking over a case mid-way.”

Munro snorted. “First-rate? Is that the PC for ‘total blithering incompetent’?” He tossed back a final swig and gathered his jacket. His driver—a huge, bald man in a dark suit who’d been standing in the corner like a statue—helped him into it.

“She’s here, so my job is done. Now it’s time for all of you to do your jobs and get my case back on track. The mistrial was bad, but Ms. Gardener should have been given a chance to make it up to me. Instead you saddled me with that Upton boy.”

He gave me a parting glance that made me think of an eel, and said, “I forgive you. You’re re-hired. Just don’t go and get yourself held hostage at the beauty parlor or something next.” He laughed and bowed mockingly. “Lady. Gentlemen.”

No one replied, and when he was gone, it was as if a noxious vapor had been vented out. I slowly turned and faced the partners. Dooney sat at the conference table, Lawson paced about, as per his usual.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Mr. Dooney began sternly, clearing his throat. “What do you want? Full partnership?”

“It’s yours, Alex,” Jon said, “but not solely for Munro. I’d be proud to have you as a partner, for your acumen and professionalism on every case.”

I didn’t doubt he meant it, but the timing of his compliment was convenient.

Dooney rested his elbows on the conference table, tapped his fingers on his chin. “We can hash out the details of the partnership with the accountants, and will put together a package I think you will find more than adequate. In the meantime, we’ll need you to get back on Munro today. There’s a great deal to catch up on. I expect it will take no insubstantial amount of time on your part, but I have complete faith in your abilities.”

“That’s quite a different message than the one I received several weeks ago,” I said coolly. “I can’t help but wonder at the change of heart.”

Dooney pursed his lips. “Don’t be coy, Ms. Gardener. It’s uncouth for the winner to gloat. A simple, ‘check and mate’ will suffice.”

Jon cleared his throat. “I do hope you’ll consider our position. The package we’re prepared to present you will more than make up for any…misunderstandings that were made regarding your leave of absence and will surely dispel any doubt about our faith in you.”

He means a separation agreement that will make it very worth their while to keep me. The mother of all golden parachutes. I took a steadying breath without letting on that I had. “I appreciate that, Mr. Lawson.”

“Very good,” Mr. Dooney said, rising. “I see that Mr. Majeed has provided you with the materials needed to resume Munro. I don’t need to warn you that it will take many late nights and weekends to catch up. I don’t know the extent of Mr. Upton’s progress—hindered, no doubt, by our client—but I presume it wasn’t much. So.” He extended his bony hand to me. “Are we in accord?”

Nights and weekends. Seventy-hour workweeks, and no time for anything else. No visits with family, no swap meets, no baseballs games…

My cool surety fell away at the sudden rush of pain that swept across my heart. I didn’t take Mr. Dooney’s hand. Mine trembled too badly. “I…uh, it’s a very generous offer, but I need time to consider it. If you could have the actual package put together, I’d appreciate it very much.”

Mr. Dooney’s tense smile slipped off his face like the mask that it was.

“Alex,” Jon began, but I moved to the door.

“I’m sorry, I…I…just need time to think. Thank you.”

Dooney shot his partner a dagger glare as if to say Do something! Jon only held up a hand. “Take all the time you need, Alex. And we’ll see you Friday? At the party? We’ll have the package for you then. I hope you’ll consider it a worthy gift.” He smiled but it was strained, and his eyes spoke volumes, begging me to show mercy.

For his benefit, I mustered a smile. “I’m sure I…yes. The party.”

The party.