Patrick slumped back in his seat, resisting the urge to cower.
“How much PTO have you taken in the past two weeks, Pendleton?”
“Four days.”
“And are you any closer to getting things straightened out?” The older man’s voice softened a bit.
“I’m trying.” If he could only get Jessica back home, then he could work on convincing her to drop the charges against him. That would help with the other charges he faced. Patrick’s lawyer was trying to build a case of self-defense in his altercation with Winters, but he’d warned Patrick to expect to do some jail time.
Patrick couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t go back.
He sat up straighter and looked Matthews in the eye. “The hearings won’t be for several weeks.”
“Then I suggest you use the next few weeks to pass off your clients to Hendricks.” Mr. Matthews sank into his chair, an air of defeat surrounding him.
“But sir—”
Matthews held up a hand, cutting Patrick off. “I don’t employ criminals, Pendleton. If you’re cleared of all the charges, then you still have a job here. But until then...” He pointed a finger at Patrick again. “One more mistake and you’re gone.”
Patrick gripped the wooden arms of his chair so tightly his hands ached.
“You have less than ten hours of PTO left; use them wisely. And if I get even a single inkling that you’ve let one client down, you’re gone. Do you understand?” Matthew’s face turned beet red.
“Yes, sir.”
“Now get out of here and figure how to recover some of Rosenberg’s money.”
Patrick stood and exited the corner office before Matthews decided to terminate him.
Instead of going straight back to his office, he entered the nearest bathroom. After making sure he was alone, he kicked a stall door, making it bang and swing wildly. He stopped himself inches from kicking the stainless-steel trash can, too.
He propped his hands on the granite countertop and swore. This was all Jessie’s fault. If she hadn’t left him, he wouldn’t be in this mess right now. Winters played a big part, too. Why couldn’t the cocky sheriff have stuck to the schedule and stayed away from the cabin that night?
* * *
Nine hours later,Patrick let himself into his house while juggling his Chinese takeout and the mail he’d neglected to collect all week. He couldn’t wait to take a hot bath after dinner. Working all day with Hendricks, who gloated about becoming the company’s youngest broker, had given him a headache.
He was halfway through sorting out the junk mail when the doorbell rang. Recalling who was on the other side of the door the last time it rang late in the evening, Patrick braced himself as he opened the door.
Relieved it wasn’t a police officer who stood on his porch, Patrick smiled at the young man who wore a too-big navy-blue blazer with an insignia on the left breast.
“Patrick Pendleton?” The kid had a deeper voice than Patrick expected.
The hair on the back of Patrick’s neck raised. “Yes.”
The young man held out a tablet. “Sign here, please.”
“What am I signing for?” Patrick asked warily.
The kid shrugged. “Official documents from an attorney’s office.”
Had Patrick’s lawyer sent him more papers to sign? Did they have something to do with the charges of police brutality he’d filed against the sheriff?
Patrick signed the tablet and took the large envelope the kid pulled from under his arm.
“You’ve been served.” The young man smiled and walked away.
“Served?”
