The Lawyer by Charlotte E Hart

Chapter Twenty One

LANDON

Roaming the quiet corridors eventually leads me to the gallery. I look up and around, my gaze scanning the portraits on show. We’re all here. Years of us. Grandfathers and grandmothers, great grandfathers and great grandmothers before that. I stop at one of my mother and father, looking over the stately composure of them both in some reminiscence of power. It’s true enough, I suppose. What is around me now has only grown in privilege and influence since he became the head of this family. When I acknowledge the email I received last night from the newest artist to paint for this family, my portrait will be here next.

“Landon?” I turn, looking at Derek as he comes into the space. “Will you and the young lady be staying another night?”

“No. We’re going back to London this morning.”

“Alright. I’ll let Betty know.”

I nod and walk towards the group of family paintings, part listening to the sound of his feet disappearing. “Derek?”

“Yes?”

“The young lady wasn’t here if anyone asks. Do you need more explanation than that?”

I can’t see him, but I can almost hear the smile on his face.

“No. Of course not.”

“Good. Thank you. And thank Betty for me.”

I start threading my tie the moment his feet begin leaving again, this time looking at a painting of us that was commissioned five years ago. Just the four siblings. I smile a little, eyes dropping to a teenage Persephone sitting beneath my standing form behind her. Christ knows where that five years has gone. Most of mine was in the States. Most of hers at theBallet, travelling and dancing around Europe.She’ll be twenty-two soon. A woman. Not quite the baby anymore.

“You’re a hard man to find around here.” My smile widens at the sound of Willow’s heels on the hardwood, my hand eventually landing on hers as it sneaks around my waist. “What are you doing up here?”

“You were showering. I thought I’d give you some space to get ready.”

“By looking at family portraits?”

“Yes. I don’t really have any at home. Perhaps I should.”

“That’s Ivy, right?” My gaze drifts to her standing next to me, a blue dress the same colour as both our eyes. “She really is beautiful. Her hair is totally droolworthy down like that. I want it.”

“I like your hair dark. It matches your more slutty side. Blondes are nowhere near as much fun.”

“I don't know, you're not too bad for a blond.” I chuckle, pulling the palm of her hand up to kiss it. “Anyway, the other two are?”

“Persephone and Neve.”

“Yes, but who’s who?”

My finger points. “Persephone’s the youngest, seventeen when this was commissioned five years ago. She's a ballet dancer. Neve is six years younger than me. She works with computers. No one is entirely sure what she does. The black sheep of the family, perhaps.”

“She’s a little darker than the three of you. Hair, skin.”

I turn in her hold to look at her, watching as she lifts her hands to straighten my tie. “Look to your left.” She does, and immediately finds the portrait of someone almost identical. “Great Grandmother. Quite the image of each other, don’t you think?”

“That’s astonishing.”

“That’s family genes for you. Throwback and all that.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

I wait for her to look back at me, suddenly so satisfied with the image of actual reality in front of me that I don't give a damn about family portraits anymore. She’s back in her suit again, hair tidy in clips and makeup placed accordingly. One of Ivy’s shirts, if I’m not mistaken. None of it hides the tattoo I know is there, though. Nor does it hide my slutty dancer either. Not anymore, at least.

It's a shame really. Leaving here means we're back to sneaking around, pretending we're not something we are. Albeit, that's my choice, and it will be amusing enough, but here we've been comfortable. Quietly so. Relaxed even, but for the unending need to fornicate like teenagers.

I smile at the thought, gently tucking a loose wisp of her hair back into place. “Why a stag?”

“What’s a stag?” she says.

“The tattoo?”

“Oh. I got it after my parents died. The stag seemed majestic and powerful. Protective in a way. All of those feelings were important to me, and I wanted a reminder. Plus, I became the head of the family.”

“I’m sorry about your parents.”

“It was a long time ago. Sooo,” she says, her gaze finally coming back to me. “How do we move forward from here?”

“Not sure I particularly want to.”

“What?”

“Move forward from this spot. Perhaps we could stay here, and you could keep reminding me of my twelve-year-old self.”

“Slightly creepy. And a little perverted, to be perfectly honest. If this has been your twelve-year-old self, he was a dirty little bastard. Although, quite fun.”

I chuckle and start walking, my fingers grabbing for hers to tow her with me. “Alright. First things first then. Jackson. Whilst I might not have been in the mood to discuss it yesterday, I heard enough when you started to explain.” We arrive at the grand hall, and I take a last glance back at the old place before leading us out into the daylight. “I'm assuming he won't be interested in you abandoning your dancing.”

“Not a chance. And not only that, he seems to think I'm available for him. Alone, if you know what I mean.”

My brow arches. “How would you like to proceed with that?”

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve already discussed that dancing for anyone else but me is unacceptable, but if I show my hand to Jackson, he’ll know why I’m interjecting. If he doesn’t already. He's anything but stupid.”

I open the car door for her and watch as she slides in.

“What do you mean, if he doesn’t already?”

“I warned him off Ash.”

“Ash? What’s Ash got to do with anything?”

Closing her door for her, I round the car and get in. “Ash was, in a roundabout way, working for Jackson. Which is why he was arrested.”

“He what?” Her voice reaches operatic levels in pitch.

The engine starts and I pull away, sliding my sunglasses on to counter the glare filtering down from the already hot sun. “I’m not saying anything other than that. As I’ve said before, client confidentiality is a thing, but Jackson and I go back quite a ways. I might be able to manage your way out of this if you want me to, or you can go in and shout your own odds and see where that gets you.”

“You’re not just going to go in and demand like you normally would?”

“Demand what? That he leaves one of his dancers alone? What business is that of mine? Jackson’s business is not my own. I can’t demand or order a damn thing. This all depends on how comfortable both you and I are with the likes of Jackson Reed knowing you mean something to me. Whether you know it or not, you have been in the employment of a miscreant. He is not a pleasant man, Willow.”

“And how will him knowing I mean something to you affect you?”

“It will mean the leverage I have on him will be diminished.”

“Leverage?”

“I’ve defended Jackson twice. Both times he deserved a prison sentence. Both times he walked free. I still have all the capability to put him where he belongs, which is why he is amenable to most things I request. However, if I use such a request, I will lessen my own ammunition because you will become a direct threat that he can use against me if he chooses to.”

“Oh.”

“Quite. How would you like to proceed?”

“I don’t think it’s how I’d like to proceed. I think the ball’s firmly in your court with this one.”

“Hmm.”

We carry on driving in relative silence after that, most of which involves me considering all viable options. There weren’t many last night when I was trying not to consider them, and there still aren’t many now that I’m devoting my time to contemplating it. One thing I do know, without any hesitation, is that I want to go in there and rip Jackson’s head off for the position he’s putting Willow in. Still, he’s been a strange ally in this world I reside in. Loyal in some ways.

And having a miscreant in my grasp is always useful.

The eventual sight of London’s skyline looming makes me glance at Willow’s clothes. She shouldn’t be dressed like this for any meeting with Jackson. Him knowing I’m interested in her is one thing. Him knowing she works for me is quite another.

I change lanes at the thought and head towards her house, part proposing the idea that I can lie my way through this if she’s in something more casual, and then some indignant side of me refuses the very notion. That thought makes me change lanes again and keep going to my original destination.

“Is Ash going to be okay?” she asks quietly.

“As far as prison goes, yes. He’s not going there anytime soon, but he needs a focus. What does he like doing?”

“Nothing that I can see.”

“How about I get him a junior role in the company? He could understudy something. He’ll fall back into the wrong crowd reasonably quickly without a purpose.”

She looks at me, eyes wide. “You’d do that for him?”

I steer through the roads that lead to Jackson’s hovel of a base, finally pulling into the underground parking. “Not for him. For you, Willow.”

“Really?”

“There has to be some perks to fucking the boss. My personality certainly isn’t it, and I'd like to help if I can. It might go some way to you accepting my terms as meaningful.”

Her smile widens, and she leans her head back on the headrest as we pull into a space and I cut the engine. “Is this more of your sweet and cute side?”

“Possibly. I doubt you’re going to see anything remotely sweet or cute in a minute, so make the most of it.”

She sighs and looks out of the window, focusing on the door that leads us both into the viper’s pit it could become. “Have you worked out what to do?”

I toss her the car key and get out, watching as she leaves her seat with me. “Whatever happens here, you get back to this car and leave if you have to. Do you understand?”

“What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. Do not wait around for me if I go down. I’m serious, Willow. Walk away from me and keep yourself safe.”

Maybe she doesn’t like that idea, or maybe she just wants more clarification, but her getting in front of my face now that I’ve made a decision isn’t going to change my mind about anything. I swing her to the side of me and keep walking, intent on getting to his office to deal with the problem at hand.

The main door opens and we both walk through corridors we know all too well. It’s just as dank and sleazy as it always is, regardless of our two suited frames within it. That part makes me smile a little, at least feeling the lawyer in me at the moment rather than the corrupt man I am on occasion.

On finally reaching the office, we find it empty. My eyes narrow, gaze going to the main area through the next set of double doors. It isn’t somewhere I want her going into dressed like this, nor is it somewhere I particularly want to frequent dressed as I am either, but needs must.

I point at a chair and nod her to it, then get my phone out to call him in here. Four rings later and he still doesn’t answer.

“Stay here,” I say, pocketing my phone. “I’ll be back shortly. And don’t say a word unless I ask you something.”

I stride through the den of iniquity until I find Jamie loitering over by the bar. She looks up at me, enough of a lurid smile on her face that I know this damn suit has made more of an impact than I alone usually do. “Where is he?”

She looks over towards one of the private rooms. “New initiate,” she says, still smiling. “We could take the room next to it if you like.”

Not bothering to answer her, I head straight for the door he’s behind. Unfortunately, I’m rewarded with the sight of his backside rutting into whomever this next girl is. Whatever calm I was managing to keep disintegrates under the thought that he’s done that to Willow, too. I grab his shoulders, hauling him backwards and out into the main area before he’s had a chance to pull up his jeans sufficiently. He stumbles over them around his knees, almost falling to the floor in the process until he gets his fucking balance and then glares.

“Office. Now. I am not pissing around, Jackson.”

Everything that was surprised about him turns sour, and he sneers as he buckles his belt and looks around at the passing patrons and girls. “That was fucking stupid, Landon,” he snarls.

“I don’t give a damn. If your lawyer calls, you answer. Move.”

Both him and his brusque attitude wander to the bar, grabbing a bottle of something off the counter before he does, indeed, go in the fucking direction I’m after. It isn’t until he gets to his office and rounds his own desk that surprise registers on his face again.

“June?”

“No,” I answer for her as I shut the door and lean on it. He looks up at me. “Not anymore. In fact, she’d like to leave. Serious claims of sexual harassment are being put forth. Considering the fact that she's managed to track down your lawyer to instigate this, I would suggest you take the situation seriously.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’ve never even touched her, let alone harassed her.” The pent-up breath I was holding releases a little at that at least.

“Still, she says she’s got incriminating evidence. And as you know, incriminating evidence and Jackson Reed do not sit well together, do they? Perhaps the quickest route out of this is simply accepting her right to choose to leave.”

He stands and leans over his desk. “This is bullshit, Landon. She’s always been treated well, and even if she hasn’t, what the fuck has it got to do with you? She hasn’t tracked you down. She’s been dancing for you. Acting like the slut she is no doubt and—”

He stops his mouth and temper in the same breath. I can almost hear the whirls of the clogs falling into place as he looks between us both. “You’re fucking her, aren’t you?” Neither Willow nor I reply. In fact, she’s as much a wall of ice as I am. “That’s why you were so wound up the other day. You didn’t like the fact that she was mine.” More silence, as we let him carry on thinking. “I did wonder what would be enough to rattle your bells.” He rounds the desk to her, his body too fucking close for my liking. "And Ash Etherington must be … what to you?” Not a word leaves her lips. “Brother?” He smirks and reaches for his bottle of drink, pouring a shot. “What a tangled web you're in, Juniper.” He’s right about that. “But I guess that isn’t your name either, is it?” No, clearly not. His eyes come up to mine again. “And this is what, Landon? Your way of threatening me?”

Still, we’re quiet. For my part, I’m giving him time to consider everything that could happen if he doesn’t agree to let her go safely and with some dignity. The only way out of any of that is him killing me, which is still a distinct possibility regardless of what I know about him.

He eventually sits again rather than posturing, presumably calming enough for sense. “And I suppose you think you’ve got enough to put me away if I don’t concede to this crap.”

That doesn’t need an answer. He’s more than aware how much I have on him.

“Do you know how much I make off her?” he snipes. “This whole fucking place runs because they come back for her.”

“Not a problem I believe pertinent to the current discussion. Maybe a career change might be useful for you going forward. You wouldn’t need my services then, would you, you despicable piece of shit.”

“Fuck you, Landon.”

I kick off the door and walk towards him, less than interested in any actual physical harm that might come. My goal is getting her out of here, nothing more than that. If a fight’s coming, I’ll take it, but I'd rather she wasn't here in the middle of it. “As eloquent as that response is, I think the lady in question would like affirmation that she's free to go and will not have any continuing complications following her resignation. Also, stay the hell away from Ash unless—"

The speed of him getting up and into my face makes me brace for impact, sure feet holding firm under potential assault.

“Jackson, no!” she shouts, standing.

He doesn’t acknowledge her in the slightest, he’s too busy with my suit in his hands and his face mere inches from mine. “You’ve got some fucking front, I’ll give you that.”

I lean in closer, using my chest as a buffer. “Take your hands off me before I forget you’re a client and rethink my defence vs prosecution choices. Get a fucking grip of yourself. Remember who I am.”

Slowly, the reality of his situation sinks in, and he shakes off whatever mania he might have been about to fall into. My hand waves Willow up in the next breath, ready to get her out of here before anything changes his mind on the current yielding that’s occurring. It might not last. Who fucking knows with him, but at least we’re a step closer to him being relatively agreeable to negotiations.

“Assuming this is done, we’ll leave,” I mutter.

We move quietly, my frame turning, and it’s in that second that I see Willow being pulled backwards sharply. Fury rages inside instantly, enough so that he hasn’t got a hope of avoiding my fist. It swings hard, smacking his jaw with such force he lets go of her and falls backwards a few steps.

Willow shouts in my periphery, her hand trying to grab at my arm. I shove her off me, desperate to get her as far away from both me and him as possible at this moment. “Leave,” I seethe at her, infuriated with pleasantries concerning this bastard. “Now.”

He’s in my face within seconds, both of us posturing over something that could go either way. I’m too rage-filled to care. He dares touch her when I’ve made the situation perfectly clear to him? “This is done, Jackson. You leave her alone, or God help me, I’ll find a way to kill you.”

More posturing as he takes that in and his frame moves into mine. I might not have involved myself with carnage before, but if he pushes me, I will call in favours owed. “One phone call. That's all it takes, and legal matters will be the least of your concerns. I am not fucking around. Unless you’re prepared for the full force of Logan Cane, back off.”

“One shout from me and there'll be three men in here with holes in their CVs and a bullet for your head. Be careful with your threats, Landon.”

“Shout then.”

His eyes narrow, and then quickly glance at her still behind my fucking back. My body moves sideways to block his view, hopefully giving enough of a sign that I’ll stay between her and him all day if I have to. It might even be in that second that I truly realise her worth to me because what fool would stand here against him like this?

Me apparently.

I half smile at that and bolster myself for retaliation as I move closer to him. I don’t give a fuck anymore. Him touching her was enough to blow any sense I was clinging onto out the window. If this is the way to deal with him, I’ll use every inch of my size to try. “Are we doing this? Or are you going to behave?”

Time seems to stall, both of us weighing our options, until the inevitability of the threat I’ve just put down lands hard enough for him to accept it.

“Go,” he says, glaring at me. “And stay gone.”

Good enough.