Chapter 2
Sienna Giles.
Holy shit, Mr. Quinn is way too handsome to be a lawyer. He should be, oh, I don’t know, maybe on the cover of GQ magazine or on one of those phony reality shows. They could make up a new situation where there’s one lawyer who helps a houseful of desperate women.
I’m still smiling at my own stupid joke until I see the callerID on my cell phone. All of a sudden, a memory pops into my head.
It’s got no visual to back up the audio, just my dead husband’s disembodied voice.You fuck me over, you’re dead. Got it?
There’s no doubt in my mind this is the reason my friend is calling. Dahlyla was the insurance agent who investigated Peter’s accident and I vaguely remember calling her last night.
“Hi Dahlyla.” I scoot flat, my head sinking deep into the pillow.
“Oh my God. I just heard. Are you alright? I’m coming right over. I-”
“No. Don’t. I’m fine.”
But I’m not fine because more of my husband’s voice plays in my head.Screw you. Without me, you won’t get a red cent.
It takes me a second to return to the present and the woman on the other end of the connection. “Sienna? You there?”
“Sorry. What were you saying?”
“I said I was worried. Did they arrest you?”
“No. Someone got me a fancy-ass lawyer.” The curtain around my bed moves and Mr. Sexy-suit pokes his head in and winks.
Dahlyla’s voice distorts as I put my phone on speaker. “No way. If you need a lawyer, my company will pay for one. Stay put. I’m coming. And fire whoever the hell thinks you can pay an exorbitant fee.”
I’m pretty sure they’re not going to let her visit me but who knows? She’ll probably just flash her white teeth, wave her credentials around in the air along with her ample ass and security will let her through.
Dahlyla always gets her way.
“Who was that?” My soon-to-be ex-lawyer slips between the curtains as I set my phone on the tiny chest of drawers beside the bed.
“My friend.”It’s none of your business.
“Wasn’t Dahlyla Stevenson the insurance detective on your husband’s case?” His forehead wrinkles when his dark brows raise.
“Ding, ding. Give the man a prize… By the way, it’s really impolite to listen in on private conversations.”
“You’re the one who put it on speaker.” He scowls and his mouth opens as if to say more but I shut him down real fast.
“Oh, for goodness sake. Don’t look at me with that tone of voice. After the investigation ended, she and I stayed good friends.”
The frown lines deepen as he reaches into his suit’s inner pocket, taps on an expensive looking iPad, and stares into the screen. “It says here the hundred-million-dollar settlement got held up in court last week. You know anything about it?”
He puts the screen in front of my face and I try to recall but my brain is busy hearing voices.
“Damn it. I told you to stay clear until we got the money.”
“You fuck me over, you’re dead. Got it?”
“Screw you. Without me, you won’t get a red cent.”
“Well?” My lawyer’s persistent, I’ll give him that.
“What was the question again?” My headache throbs to the point where I think I may pass out so I press the little button by my bed in hopes it will bring a doctor.
