“The tenant in 503. The one who broke the appliances and sabotaged the plumbing,” Uncle Philip prompted.
“Yes. So?”
“So the lawyer who was supposed to present the case in court was in an accident this morning and can’t be in court today.”
“Call the firm and have them send someone else. Really, Uncle Philip, I don’t have time for these small squabbles.” He punched his arm out to expose his watch and then pointed at it.
“I did. There’s no one else available.”
Someone tapped him on the shoulder, and he turned to find Mayor Scott scowling. “Perhaps you have too many properties to handle at the moment. The Cove has taken so much of your attention that you’re neglecting your renters.” She lowered her chin. “Who happen to be voters.”
Adam knew how to win a game of truth or dare. He always picked dare, and he never backed down. He clapped his uncle on the shoulder, noting that the shoulder pads added considerable bulk to a man who didn’t have a lot of meat on his bones. “I’ll take care of this one on my own and be back before we’re called into lunch, Madam Mayor.”
“I look forward to hearing about your latest battle, Beast.” She lifted her glass, and several others followed suit. The game was afoot. Adrenaline surged through Adam at the thought of commanding the courtroom and winning a case. He hadn’t argued a squabble in ages. This would be fun.
Being known as the Beast had served him well, intimidating opposing counsel before walked through the doors. Heaven help the poor defense attorney who had taken the tenant’s case and unsuspectingly agreed to meet the Beast on the battlefield.
Edward walked stiffly from the room, no doubt to have the car brought around.
Adam couldn’t leave his uncle with this group. They would either eat him alive or pump him for information. “You can brief me in the car.” He propelled the man across the Persian rug and through the great archway to the marbled-floor front entry.
Uncle Philip stopped and sniffed the air. “Lunch smelled delicious.”
“Roast pheasant.” Adam accepted his raincoat from one of the footmen—he could never remember their names, and they all looked alike with black hair and a uniform. “I’ll have Edward send something to your apartment.”
Uncle’s face fell. “Of course.”
The smaller limo, the one they used to go through the busy downtown streets, pulled to a stop on the cobblestone drive at the bottom of the rounded staircase. Two lions—larger than Adam, who was six foot one—stood guard at the bottom of the stairs, their teeth bared.
The men climbed inside, and Philip handed Adam the folder. “That’s all the information I have.” He ducked his head as if his evidence was subpar.
Adam flipped through it quickly, then went back to look a little closer. Receipts for repairs made. A log of phone calls between the tenant and Philip. The tenant’s growing displeasure and refusal to pay the rent. There were pictures of the spray-painted walls, curse words and curses alike, highlighted in neon green and blue. The couch cushions were slashed, the stuffing yellowed, testifying to the time lapse between the vandalism and the picture shoot. He pulled on his bottom lip as he read a man’s catalogued actions as he descended into madness. For one brief moment, he wondered what had triggered the meltdown. Each of his renters were screened. The application papers indicated that he was a pharmacologist and had worked at DGR’s Pharmacy for fifteen years.
Instead of dwelling on the whys, Adam cast them aside and focused on securing the consequences. He’d have the man locked away to protect society.
Uncle Philip broke the silence and Adam’s concentration. “You remind me so much of your father.”
Adam slapped the folder shut. He had enough information to win the case. “I hope you mean that as a compliment, because it’s been said both ways many times.”
The lines around Philip’s eyes had softened. “Same noble brow. Same wavy blond hair. Though I think you’re an inch taller than him.”
“The old man just rolled over in his grave.” His father never gave him an inch in life; it was unlikely he’d give him one in death.
“I offered to take you, you know. After Alicia passed.” Philip ran his thumb over the swollen knuckle on his ring finger. “Your father had other ideas.”
Adam stared out the window as the early days of boarding school, the loneliness, and the emptiness of a child still mourning his mother washed over him like a soft Seattle drizzle. He took in the man across from him. A simple man with a simple life—a life that would have made Adam soft. “Thank goodness for that,” he muttered. At least his father had saved him from a small and unimportant life.
Uncle Philip sighed. “You have more in common with him than your looks.”
This time Adam understood that the words weren’t a compliment, though they were spoken with honesty. The realization unexpectedly stabbed, like a thorn in his flesh. No matter. He would shortly prove that being fierce was better than being … whatever it was Uncle Philip wished him to be. He lifted the folder. “This should only take a moment, and you’ll be on your way.”
The car stopped in front of King County Courthouse. The aged gray building was shaped like a letter H, with two columns of justice connected by a tunnel of office space. There were decorations on the exterior to recommend it as an architectural beauty.
Impatient, Adam threw open the door before his driver had a chance to open it for him and marched towards the entry. He was single-minded in his movements and didn’t notice the woman in the yellow dress until their hands touched on the door.
“Oh!” she exclaimed, a smile blossoming on her face.
Feeling a jolt up his arm, Adam gave her his full attention. Her brown hair was pulled back in a style reminiscent of the 1940s with a few thick, loose curls bouncing to her chin and framing her enchanting, heart-shaped face. She had large, doe-like brown eyes that dropped demurely as his cheeks colored.
