“Can she hand over the dog and not have to pay all these costs, maybe sixty-forty?”
“I’m not handing over the dog,” I force out. “She’s family. Pepper is my baby.”
“She’s not a baby—she’s a vicious animal,” the head lawyer insists. “If you do not cooperate and we cannot come to any sort of agreement, then we will be forced to turn all this evidence over to the police and animal control. We’ll ask that they take custody of the dog, at which point, we will be suing you for repayment of Mr. Pendleton’s medical bills and legal bills. Please, carefully consider our offer.”
I’m in shock as I make my way back to the elevator.
“This is a good deal,” my lawyer says after we exit into the noise of the city. “You can get a new dog, after all.”
“I thought you were going to help me,” I cry. “This isn’t helpful at all.”
Randy’s mouth drops open. “You can’t thinkIcan do anything against those Clarke & Turner lawyers. They’re a huge law firm.”
“Then why did you take the job?” I’m sobbing now.
“Now, just hold on.” He fishes in his pocket and hands me a crumpled McDonalds napkin. “Look, you’re a pretty girl—you shouldn’t be crying.”
“You saw the law firm’s name on the letterhead. You should have told me that you couldn’t represent me and Pepper.”
“You were such a cute little thing, and I didn’t have the heart to tell you no. We’ll work something out.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Now, as your lawyer I really shouldn’t be suggesting this, but can you get a different dog and swap them out? I don’t think they’d know the difference.” He chortles. “I wouldn’t.”
As I drive backto the office, I’m numb. In the parking deck, I park as close to the exit as I can and sit in my car, trying not to emotionally collapse. It’s still early by Rainier Equity standards. I have to go to my desk and try to get some work done.
All I want to do is go home and curl up under the covers. But I have to solve this. My lawyer clearly isn’t going to.
Can I get a different corgi?
Searching through Google, it’s clear that I cannot afford another corgi, and there’s a waiting list at the corgi rescues. Not to mention that I can’t in good conscience subject another dog to Jaxon. What if it was someone’s pet that was inadvertently dumped at the corgi rescue?
What am I going to do?
I wipe my eyes. “We’re just going to go into the office and deal with it tomorrow.”
Salinger’s on the phone, pacing near the exit, talking angrily to someone on the line. His head snaps up as I approach, and he ends the call.
“Hey, Salinger.” My voice is still raw from crying earlier.
Pepper wags her stubby tail at him.
I duck my head and reach for the door. His hand slams on it, shutting it. He’s practically pressing up against me. It’s too close. My heart is hammering.
“You’re afraid,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“Tell me who he is. You saw him today, didn’t you?”
“No,” I lie.
“Mandy.” His hand grips the back of my neck, making me gasp as he forces my face up to his. “I’m done playing games with you. I’m done watching you put yourself at risk for some bullshit reason. You’re literally driving me insane.” His voice is taut. “Trust me when I say I’m going to find out who he is, and when I do, it’s going to be worse for you. So tell me now.”
“Because that’s not creepy.”
With his large hand still on the back of my neck, he turns me back toward the parking deck. “You’re coming with me. Do not argue.”
I’m too tired to protest as he marches me to his car, opens the door, lifts Pepper inside. He drives out of the parking deck a lot less cautiously than I would have, pulling into the evening traffic.
Unlike the last time I was in his car after an incident with Jaxon, Salinger’s not sensitive today. There’s nothing nice about him. One hand’s on the gear shift and the other’s on the steering wheel as he whips through traffic.
