Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (49 page)

It’s weird to hear a news report on a case I’ve worked on. I’d be with them there today if I hadn’t quit. I’m both relieved and frustrated about that. This was my first real case, and I didn’t even see it through to the end.

Not that anyone blames me. There might be some debate in the family about who exactly caused what, but the one part everyone agrees on is that I’m the one who got screwed. Oh yeah, the video made that part
really
clear.

Garrett and my mother have both tried to get me to talk to him, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it. Either he did it, and can go burn in Hell, or he didn’t, and he hates my guts.

I’ve been too chicken to find out.

The perky blonde news anchor turns to an older man in a dark blue suit with a graying combover. “Herb Andover from the Andover and Andover Law Firm is here with us today. Mr. Andover, is this normal procedure?”

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, indeed it is not, Miss Caraway.” His words come out slowly and evenly, each one carefully thought through before he lets it pass his lips. “Normally, a settlement would be reached. Honestly, I’ve looked at the case, and I’m surprised Cooper’s team didn’t take what was offered. It would astound me if the final verdict isn’t a much larger financial loss for Cooper, not to mention the tremendous loss of face. The fact that his counsel didn’t protest the television broadcast makes me wonder what they have up their sleeves.”

My thoughts exactly. What the heck is Declan doing? The guy on TV is right, but I knew they wouldn’t take the settlement. Cooper would never have agreed to that, even if it would be in his best interests. At this point they should just be trying to get it done quickly and privately to mitigate the potential for disaster.

I’m surprised by how conflicted I feel. Nothing would make me happier than seeing Harry Cooper crash and burn while everyone watches. But even if I should, I don’t want to see Declan dragged through the mud with him, not until I’m completely sure about what happened at the wedding. Then if I still think he did it? I’ll be the first one there to stomp his face into the dirt.

The camera pans to the front of the courthouse just as a group of men and women climb the long elegant steps, all of them in dark, professional suits. Even at a distance, Declan stands out. He’s taller and broader than the rest. He was made to lead the way, just like his father. My heart does a little flip at the sight, but I will it to keep still, reminding myself that the way he leads isn’t where I want to go.

Suddenly the camera zooms, and his face fills the screen, handsome and confident. The field reporter jumps in without a pause. “Mr. Riordan, what’s your plan? Do you really think it’s possible to win this?” Declan’s face is obscured by the fuzzy tip of a microphone, making him back up with a flash of irritation across his face.

“You know I can’t comment on that while the case is still in progress.” He looks squarely into the camera. “But I feel confident that our key witness will be the tipping point.”

Huh? There weren’t any good witnesses for the case. That was one of our biggest problems. Did they find someone at the last minute? They couldn’t have, we did everything but go through the phone book one by one.

“There’s been a lot of talk about your witness, Mr. Lloyd Peterson. Mr. Riordan, could you elaborate? How do you think he can help?” The reporter rattles off his questions like a machine gun.

“No further comments.” Declan pushes the microphone out of his way, creating a short burst of feedback before someone shuts if off. The crowd seems to automatically adjust to let him through as his team goes into the court building. Following closely behind them are Cooper, smoking one of his cigars, and his useless friend.

“Are you sure you want to watch this?” Mom’s voice startles me. She’s walked into the room without me noticing.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I really don’t know.”

“Me neither, and yet here I am.” She sits down next to me, her fingers worrying at the cuffs of her sleeves. “Want company?”

I lean against my mother’s shoulder, quietly accepting her support when she slips an arm around me. “Yeah.”

“This won’t change anything, not for us. But...” Mom’s voice is sad. “Is it horrible to hope my husband’s firm loses so that maybe it does change something for someone else who still needs it?”

“Absolutely not,” I answer without even having to pause to think.

But I think she’s wrong about one thing. I think Declan has a plan, and it could change everything. I just don’t know if I trust it to be for the better or for the worse.

I
’m about to roll the dice on my career in the highest stakes game of my life, and I don’t even know if she’s watching. I fucking hope she is, but I won’t know until after the dust settles.

My heart is pumping, and the adrenaline is kicking in. Walking into court always reminds me of entering the boxing ring back in my college days. Nailing someone with words isn’t always as satisfying as rocking them with my fists, but it has that same rush, just without all the blood and spit.

That’s a good thing, most days.

If she can’t even bring herself to watch me on screen, well, I’d still go through with it. At some point in the last week, it’s become painfully clear to me that we can’t—and shouldn’t—always save the assholes of the world from themselves. Not Cooper. Not Michael.

Not me.

But I’d really prefer she was watching, because I’d hate to think that I’m doing all this just to find that she doesn’t give a fuck. I can deal with jobless, but I’m not interested in jobless and alone. When I close my eyes, she’s the only one I see, and there’s no one else that’s going to take her place.

The fifth floor courtroom is buzzing like a hive of agitated bees. On the right, cameras and microphones stick out of the benches like the spears of a Roman phalanx, ready to catch the bodies of the defeated. Me and my team, that’s who they want to see bleed. Makes for a shitty day for us, but great TV.

Aside from the press, pretty much everyone in the room is there in support of the other side. Sure there’re a few court regulars who go to anything and everything, but mostly it’s disgruntled employees and pissed off family members. They radiate angry energy with no outlet to channel it.

I glance at Cooper sitting next to me, and grin at the sheen of sweat starting to pop out on his forehead. I’m really looking forward to seeing his face when he realizes his whole case is a house of cards. He’s nervous, but too stupid to understand how badly this is going to go for him.

His bet is even worse than mine, risking everything on one player because he can’t bring himself to believe that after so many years of doing whatever the hell he wanted, he’s finally going to get smacked down like the rabid dog he is.

“All rise, the Honorable Judge Bailey presiding.” The whole courtroom moves as one at the bailiff’s announcement. The angry buzz tunes down to a quiet hum as the crowd waits to see the show.

A white-haired man with square glasses and a bit of a paunch enters the room wearing judge’s robes. His wrinkles and spots make him look old enough to retire years ago, but his blue eyes are clear, examining the room with a sharp gaze before he takes his seat on the podium. Judge Bailey. His record is solid. Old-school, but by the book and unimpressed by theatrics. “Please be seated.”

The plaintiff’s opening statement tears at the heartstrings. I’m bored out of my skull, just wanting to get on with it, and I’m sure that plays right into his picture of us as uncaring monsters. Their lawyer is Dave Slater, a tall, black man, square faced and serious. He knows his shit, and he’s a fighter. Both in court and on the softball field. He’d better buy me a beer later for handing him an easy win, and then I’ll even the score next season.

Knowing we were the other side, I’m sure he’s worked his ass off, so I’ll let him have his moment. He’ll be expecting a curve ball, but he’s going to slam it out of the park.

“Mr. Riordan, it’s your turn to present your opening statement.” The voice makes me look up. Oh, Dave’s done already. Suppose I should pay attention. Well, it’s show time.

My statement is well crafted but uninspired. I feed them the line Cooper wants. Business is business, they do the best they can, he’s out there providing Americans with jobs, blah blah blah. Cooper smiles and nods, completely missing the skeptical looks some of the jury members are sending his way. It’s hard to make people believe you care about jobs, when you’re on the stand for wrongful termination on a massive scale.

I wrap up, then sit and wait. Mercifully, Dave’s only set up a few witnesses, probably figuring that the evidence is so skewed anyway. They’re more of a precaution than a necessity. It still feels like forever before it’s my turn.

Hopefully Peterson is as much of a nutcase as he seemed from the phone interview. In the short talk I had with him before we entered the courtroom, he seemed even more unstable than I’d figured. How a whack job like him got to be chief accountant for a large corporation is beyond me.

Even Cooper must have figured something was wrong with him or he wouldn’t have been demoted. No idea why Cooper believes he has this guy’s total loyalty, but I’m on record as having disagreed with putting him on the stand. Eventually bowing to my client’s wishes shouldn’t raise any red flags.

I want this case to combust, but we need to keep our noses clean. The last thing I want is for someone to cry foul after the fact and have it blow back on Riordan and Flynn.

I get up slowly, tugging my suit and straightening my tie. With a nod to the judge, I approach, enjoying the silence in the room as they wait for my words. I won’t deny it. I fucking love being in the spotlight, and I’m going to use it for all it’s worth.

“Your Honor.” Everyone’s watching me to see what my first move will be, their eyes burning into my back. “I’d like to call Mr. Lloyd Peterson to the witness stand.”

The judge nods.

Cooper smiles and nods when Peterson rises and comes to the front. Peterson flicks a glance at his boss, but his expression doesn’t give away what he’s thinking.

After being sworn in, he settles noisily into the witness booth. Tapping the mic, he produces a couple of loud thuds followed by a screech of feedback that’s as pleasant as nails on a chalkboard. He pulls his finger back in surprise before easing back with a sheepish grin.

My turn. I smile, full of easy charm. “Mr. Peterson, you’re Mr. Cooper’s chief accountant, correct?”

He leans forward towards the mic cautiously, like he’s worried it’s going to feedback again. When it doesn’t, he speaks cautiously with a quaver in his thin, reedy voice. “Yes, sir.”

“So you’re intimately familiar with the state of the corporation’s economics, like the payroll, for example.”

“Yes, sir.” Peterson relaxes a little at the easy questions.

“And you’ve gone through all of their books in preparation for the trial to determine if they were in order?”

This time he pauses, chewing his lip. “Yes, sir.”

He’s a little screwy, but he’s not stupid. When I prepped him, I told him he needed to be honest, but to not volunteer anything. Deciding what to ask, and how to question a witness is one of the parts of this job I love the most. It’s a dance, like boxing. Draw them one way, feint, jab, dance away. Never let them take the lead.

Except today I want him to do exactly that. I just can’t make it obvious.

“I know you’ve been with Cooper Holdings for many years, but can you tell me how long you’ve been Chief Accountant?”

Peterson’s eyebrow tics. I’m closing in on sensitive tissue, and I’m about to do some chainsaw surgery. “Five years.” He shakes his head. “Five stinking years,” he says in a lower voice, but the mic still picks it up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cooper frown. It’s honestly never occurred to him that his buddy the accountant might not have appreciated being demoted.

“Wow, that’s quite a while. You must have a pretty good handle on the business. Do you believe there is anyone who has a better understanding of the Cooper Holdings financials?” Come on, take the bait.

“No, absolutely not.” Peterson’s voice still quavers, but it’s gaining strength. “Especially considering my fifteen years as CFO.” His gaze hones in on Cooper, sharp and oddly fixated. “Fifteen long, wasted years of my life.”

“Sir, please constrain yourself to answering the question asked,” the judge admonishes.

Peterson flinches but nods. His right eye ticks.

“So you’ve been at Cooper Holdings for exactly how long then?”

“Twenty-seven years. I worked for his father back in the day, and have given that company most of my miserable life.” He’s warming up nicely. “And what did I get for it?”

I hear a few “Yeah!”s from behind me. There are guys in here who’ve known Peterson for years, and know all too well what it’s like to get screwed over by Cooper.

Judge Bailey scowls. “I’ve warned you once, Mr. Peterson. I won’t do it again. Mr. Riordan, please control your witness.”

“Your honor!” Cooper’s voice is a panicked stage whisper that carries clearly through the stunned room. “I need to talk to my lawyer. Now!”

I hold up my hand at him, signaling Cooper to wait. “Just give me a minute. We’re nearly finished.” The judge nods.

“So in your opinion, as one of Mr. Cooper’s most trusted employees, do you believe that the payroll practices at Cooper Holdings are in line with the industry, and financially justifiable?”

“
Justifiable
?” Peterson looks at me like I’m nuts. The rumbling in the gallery gets louder.

“Order in the courtroom, please.” The judge waves at me to continue.

I smile good-naturedly. “Yes, as in, defensible, or appropriate.”

Peterson snorts. “I know what the word means, and no. There is nothing
justifiable, defensible
or
appropriate,”
he spits the words out like they burn his tongue, “About his practices. That man would sell his own grandmother if he thought he’d get a quick buck out of it.” Peterson’s voice is full of bitterness.

“I’m sorry, your honor. Mr. Peterson could you—”