see Marcy Sims with Jace. He knew instantly that something was up. “What’s wrong?”
Not waiting for an invitation, Marcy swept past him and into his apartment. “Quinn’s in trouble. He wants us in Nashville by tomorrow.”
“What kind of trouble?” Aaron asked.
“That Lulu Vanderley he was going to Nashville to see got herself murdered last night.” Jace closed the door and came inside behind Marcy.
“You’re shitting me?”
“Quinn found her body,” Marcy said. “So you know what that means.”
“He’s a suspect,” Aaron replied.
“He didn’t do it. He didn’t kill her,” Jace said emphatically. “The boss would never murder anybody.”
“Yeah, you’re right, he wouldn’t,” Aaron agreed. “But I’ll bet there are a lot of people who’re getting a big laugh out of this. The most famous criminal lawyer in the country, who’s gotten dozens of accused murderers acquitted, might get charged with murder himself.”
“They can’t arrest Quinn for murder.” Jace’s cheeks flushed with emotion. “We gotta do whatever we can to help him.”
Sometimes Aaron found it amusing the way Jace hero-worshiped Quinn. But then the kid owed Quinn a lot, didn’t he, even more than he and Marcy did? They were all three misfits, kids who’d been in trouble, heading for a life of crime. Marcy had been abused by her father and wound up on the streets, ready to turn tricks at sixteen. A cheerleader-type blonde with big brown eyes, she could have made a fortune as a prostitute. Her salvation had been that the first guy she’d approached on her first night on the job turned out to be Quinn Cortez, a real crusader for kids in trouble. He’d gotten her placed in a good foster home, helped her attend junior college and then hired her as his personal assistant.
Aaron’s story wasn’t much different, except he’d wound up at the Judge Harwood Brown Boys’ Ranch, a place built and run by Quinn and several other guys who’d been boys in trouble themselves way back when and had been saved by old Judge Brown. When Aaron turned eighteen, Quinn had encouraged him to go to college, but he’d known college wasn’t for him. He wasn’t stupid, but he was no Einstein either. He made Quinn understand that he didn’t have the smarts for college. He’d been working for Quinn as his chauffeur and all-around gofer ever since. The pay was good, the benefits great.
Jace, another Judge Harwood Brown Boys’ Ranch alumnus, had been working for Quinn for the past year. He was a pretty kid, with hazel eyes and curly sandy brown hair that he kept short to control the curls, but Jace’s story wasn’t a pretty one. He’d admitted that he had been molested by a priest when he was twelve, which had screwed him up pretty bad. And it didn’t help that he’d grown up without a dad and had lost his mother, too, only a couple of years ago.
“I’ve booked us flights for tomorrow morning,” Marcy said. “And I’ve lined up a four-bedroom house and a rental car. I’m hoping the police will clear this up pretty quickly and we can all head home in a few days, but—”
“Aaron, who was at the door?” Wearing only his rumpled shirt, Gala stopped dead still in the doorway between the bedroom and living room. “Oops. Sorry.”
“We…er…we were just leaving.” Marcy started backing toward the door.
“Don’t leave on my account,” Gala said. “Stick around. I was just going to order pizza.”
Marcy looked directly at Aaron. “Jace will pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning. Be ready.”
“No problem,” Aaron told her.
“Quinn’s counting on us, man,” Jace said, eyeing Gala disapprovingly. “We can’t let him down.”
“I get it, okay,” Aaron said. “I’ll be ready to go at eight-thirty in the morning.”
As much as Aaron admired and respected Quinn, he wasn’t in love with the guy like Marcy was nor did he worship the man the way Jace did. But he’d cut off his right arm before he’d let Quinn down.
“Let’s look at this rationally,” Griffin Powell said. “I can’t take on each of you individually as clients for obvious reasons, even if I assigned one of my employees to handle the case for one of you. However, if you two could work together, you could hire me jointly. After all, I assume you both want the same thing—to discover the identity of Lulu Vanderley’s murderer and see him brought to justice.”
Annabelle nodded.
“Yes, that’s what I want.” Quinn thought Powell had brass balls for even recommending such an odd proposition. Selling Annabelle on this unholy alliance wouldn’t be easy.
“I believe one of us should simply hire another agency,” Annabelle said.
“Griffin Powell is the best.” Quinn looked her square in the eyes. “I hire only the best.”
“Are you suggesting that I look elsewhere?”
“Yes, I am. Unless you’re willing to work with me.”
She stared at him quizzically and he caught a glint of something peculiar in those cool blue eyes. Did the lady want to be persuaded? Was that it? Did the thought of their working together intrigue her as much as it did him?
You’re a fool, Cortez. The very last thing you need in your life right now is a personal relationship with Lulu’s cousin, a woman who thinks it’s possible you might have killed Lulu.
“I believe we have a stalemate,” Kendall said. “Apparently neither Quinn nor Ms. Vanderley is willing to accept second best.”
“I’m flattered,” Griffin said. “But I think you should know that unless I can take you both on as clients who have consented to work together, I won’t take this case.”
“What!” Annabelle whipped around and glared at Griffin. “You can’t mean that.”
“If you knew me better, you’d know that I always mean what I say.”
“And say what you mean.” Quinn made an instant decision, one that surprised him as much as it did everyone else in the room. He motioned to Kendall. “Let’s go. I withdraw my bid to hire you, Mr. Powell. Feel free to take on Ms. Vanderley as your client.”
“What the hell—” Kendall gasped when Quinn grabbed her arm and led her toward the door.
“Wait!” Annabelle rose from the sofa. “Please, Mr. Cortez, don’t go.”
Quinn stopped, but kept his back to Annabelle and Griffin.
“What are you pulling?” Kendall spoke to Quinn so softly that only he could hear her.
“Why should I stay?” Quinn asked Annabelle.
“Mr. Powell is right—we do want the same thing. If you can accept the fact that I don’t trust you completely, then I believe we might be able to work together.”
“Hmm…” Kendall grinned at Quinn before he turned around to face Annabelle.
