“Well, yeah. I’ve been through it, sure, but it sounds like that guy’s been through it too.” He waved over at where Ramsey had just made everyone in his relative vicinity laugh.
“Not you too,” Nate said.
“Listen, I don’t know what your issue is—”
“Yeah, you don’t,” Nate retorted. “And you’re not gonna. Did Aidan suggest that you talk to me? I can handle my own shit.”
Dawson did not mention that it didn’t seem like that was true, at least when it came to Ramsey. Nate had a good six inches and fifty pounds of pure muscle on him. He wasn’tstupid.
Optimistic, maybe, but not stupid.
“Of course you can,” Dawson soothed. “And no, of course Aidan didn’t put me up to anything.WouldAidan do that?”
Nate chuckled darkly. “No. He’d never want someone to pull something off where he failed.”
“Exactly,” Dawson said. “We’re just both saying similar things, because it’s so obvious.”
“What’s so obvious?”
Damn. Dawson had really hoped that he wouldn’t have to go into more detail than that. That Nate would be self-aware enough to understand exactly what Dawson wasn’t explicitly saying.
“That you want to go talk to him,” Dawson offered.
Nate frowned. “I absolutely fucking don’t. That guy is a menace. Always showing up and throwing his weight around, like anybody gives a shit about some washed-up hockey player who can’t get on the ice.”
Dawson opened his mouth to suggest that assessment was both too harsh and also a little too vehement in its denial, but Nate shot him a dark look and stomped off.
Well, shit. Now he probably wasn’t going to get Nate’s lawyer’s info, either.
So much for two birds, one stone.
He tipped his drink back against his lips, finishing the rest of it. Wondered if he should head back to the bar, get another. Find where Cam was and maybe persuade him to go make out in an empty bathroom.
But before he could, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He checked it, and once he saw Natalia Kaminski’s name, he picked up immediately.
“Hi, Dawson. Sorry to call so late,” she said apologetically. “Do you have a moment?”
“It’s alright. Let me just see if I can find a quiet spot,” Dawson said. He set his empty glass down on the table and headed off to check out the different rooms that spun out from the main bar. He hit pay dirt in the gaming room, which was still empty. In an hour, it would be full in here, with the guys playing pool and darts, but for right now, they were all still congregating at the bar.
“Okay, I’m good now,” Dawson said, leaning his hip against the back of one of the long leather couches.
“I told you we were talking to Ackerman’s lawyers. They didn’t like that we rejected their last plea,” she said.
“No, they wouldn’t like that. He wouldn’t either.” Dawson assumed if he hadn’t blocked Ackerman’s number forever ago, he’d have called up Dawson and demanded to know why he was being so difficult. And Brynn might have interceded on her father’s behalf, but he’d told her months ago that he wasn’t willing to listen.
“No,” Natalia agreed dryly. “But after finding out what we didn’t like with the original plea deal, they came back with another option.”
“Yeah?” Dawson wasn’t expecting it to be much better than the last one, but he supposed they had to earn their money—hismoney, probably—somehow.
“I’ll send it over,” she said, “but the gist of it is that he’s willing to do time.”
“Not just house arrest?”
“Not just house arrest.”
Dawson was surprised.
“I was surprised too,” Natalia said when he was stunned into silence. “But I think they’re worried.”
