“I rarely joke on the clock.”
Her phone rings. She glances at it and lets out a deeply annoyed breath. “No. Why? Your ex hired Goldblatt.”
“Gold-what?”
“That’s your ex’s lawyer. Ihatethat guy,” she says.
My stomach drops. “Don’t answer.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Well, genius, that’s not an option. I’d prefer it if you let me do my job.” And with that, she picks up. “I’m listening.” Silence on her end. She tenses. “No,” she finally says. “My client did not ‘kidnap’ their child.”
I clench my fist.
“He removed her from a situation under review.”
She shoots me a sharp look—I know she’s running through scenarios of how to kill me if this goes south.
“No,” she says coolly. “You’ll do nothing until we speak.”
Livy stirs in my arms. I hug her tighter.
“If your client wants to press charges, she may,” Jenna continues. “We’ll respond.”
Another pause. “Go ahead.”
She hangs up.
“That went badly,” I say, my heart pounding up to my temples now.
“It did.”
“What now?”
She stands, circles the desk, and faces me. “Now,” she says. “We work faster than him and better.”
SIX
Jenna
It’s official.
I’m working on the most complicated case of my career, partnered with a man who is international chaos in human form, and I’m camped out on my living room floor, eating greasy noodles from a takeout box, while trying to keep my files safe from soy sauce. If you’d told me a few months ago this is where I’d be now, I would’ve sued you for wasting my time.
I type, or at least I try.
It’s anything but easy when you’re stuck cross-legged at a coffee table that’s way too low, hunched over a cheap laptop. But we had no choice. After Livy polished off my entire stash of pretzels, she finally passed out in Colton’s arms. Even his massive biceps were shaking at some point. So, I suggested we lay her on the couch. She’d wake the second he tried sneaking back here, so we simply worked by her side. I can’t blame her for being afraid of being left alone.
Every minute counts now that an emergency hearing could be scheduled at any moment. Once that date is set, everything has to be airtight. The report moved fast—faster than I expected. Thank God we got ahead of it before the authorities removedLivy from the situation entirely. CPS agreed to a temporary safety plan and allowed Colton to keep her until the emergency court hearing. However, our application still needs to be submitted in writing, which is why we’ve been going through the facts for hours now—facts that are meant to prove that Colton is not the perpetrator, but Livy’s rescuer.
“You’re holding your chopsticks wrong,” I say without looking up.
“I’m not.”
I glance at him: there are two poor chopsticks splayed awkwardly between his way too long and massive fingers. “You are.”
“But it works.”
I study him, then the chopsticks, then him again—lounging against my couch, legs stretched out like some Greek god who forgot humility existed. Though I’ve started calling him the Siberian Disaster. The media goes with Siberian Express but mine feels more fitting.
