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  Defend Me

  Grahame Claire

  Defend Me (Free, Book Three) Grahame Claire

  Copyright © 2020 Grahame Claire

  All rights reserved. No part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the express written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Editing And Proofreading:

  Marion Archer, Marion Making Manuscripts

  Karen Lawson and Janet Hitchcock, The Proof is in the Reading

  Cover Design:

  Hang Le, By Hang Le

  Ebook ISBN: 978-1-951878-04-7

  For those who the pain is too much.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Epilogue

  Enjoy this book?

  Bonus Scene

  Book Stuff

  Acknowledgments

  Also by Grahame Claire

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Marlow

  The balloons slipped from my fingers at the sound of a fist on the door.

  He was home. And apparently following his crazy wife’s instructions to knock when he arrived.

  I batted the strings out of the way, ducked beneath the Welcome Home banner, and flew to the foyer.

  “I can’t believe you did what I asked,” I said, breathless as I threw open the door.

  My face fell.

  A uniformed officer stood on the porch, a folded flag in hand.

  “No.” I clutched my stomach. “No. No, no, no, no, no.”

  My knees hit the hardwood floor. The world became blurry.

  “Jack,” I screamed until his name was nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

  “The Secretary of the Army regrets to inform you—”

  “Shut up.” I beat my fists on his thighs. “Shut up.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am.”

  I wilted, dropping my forehead to the floor. “Jack. Why did you have to be a hero?”

  Chapter One

  Marlow

  I wheeled the stroller to a stop.

  “You ready for this, little man?”

  I touched my son’s chubby cheek, his answer a toothy grin.

  “No pressure, but this will probably come down to you.” Drool hit my thumb. “Guess that means you’re up for the challenge.”

  I wiped my hand on my sweater, gripped the handle of the stroller with one hand, and opened the old metal door with the other. A loud creak announce my arrival.

  I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the dim light inside. Somewhere in the distance the sound of a drill pierced my ears, followed by the bang of a hammer.

  This place was a mess. And much bigger than I’d anticipated.

  The stroller left tracks as I pushed it across the dusty concrete. Two faces stared at me from behind the worn reception desk.

  “How!” My son punched his tiny fist in the air, already doing his part to charm them.

  “How, buddy.”

  My chest squeezed as my brother’s expression softened.

  You’ve got this, Marlow.

  I gathered my courage and straightened my spine. “I was wrong.”

  That was a lot harder to say than I thought it would be.

  “Yeah, you were,” he said.

  That was fair. Not the warm forgiveness I’d been hoping for. Then again, I didn’t deserve it.

  “I didn’t mean—” I looked away, all the words I needed to say jumbled in my head. Finally, I figured some out. “I love you.”

  He crossed his arms. Definitely not the response I’d been looking for. “I love you too.” The phrase was spoken tightly, framed by his hurt. Hurt that I’d caused.

  “I just needed—” I closed my eyes. I was screwing this up royally. “Never mind.” I forced myself to look at him, so he could see I was telling the truth. “I’m not speaking to her anymore.”

  His face was like a stone. “Only time will prove that.”

  “I swear I didn’t tell her about the wedding,” I said, almost pleading. “I know I’m the reason for our problems.” Even now, I was so incredibly angry at myself for choosing to believe our mother’s lies. How she pretended to love me, want me, yet was screwing up everyone else’s lives. And eventually my own too.

  My brother appeared stunned. I rarely apologized. “I said my fair share of awful things too.”

  We looked at one another for a long time and came to a silent truce, just like we’d done as kids. It gave me the courage to do what I’d come here to do.

  “Heard you were in the market for a receptionist.” She glanced down at Blake. “How about two for the price of one?”

  Holt blinked at me. Baker’s lips parted. He looked at his girlfriend, and she lifted her shoulder in a helpless shrug.

  I clamped my mouth shut. I tossed him the ball, now it was up to him.

  “You want to work here? For me?” He spoke as if it were the first time, each word a test.

  I brushed imaginary lint off the canopy of the stroller.

  “You’re starting a new business. You need cheap labor, right?”

  “You already have a job. Why would you give up steady income when you have Blake—”

&n
bsp; “I got fired,” I barked as shame filled me.

  He stared at me in horror. I couldn’t even look at Baker’s reaction. I’d worked hard to become a medical transcriptionist. It had been way easier to blow it.

  “What happened?” Holt asked carefully.

  I straightened. “After . . . I couldn’t handle it.” I’d forced myself to go back to work for Blake. Maybe it had been too soon.

  “Marlow, I’m sorry. We’ve tried to be understanding about your . . . situation. If you show up at all, you’re making too many mistakes. We have to let you go.”

  I hadn’t had it in me to be humiliated. I didn’t care about anything except that my son didn’t have a father. Would never know him.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  I glared at him. “Why do you think?” I shouldn’t have snapped, but this was hard enough to admit in the first place.

  “When did this happen?”

  “Almost two years ago.”

  He was quiet for a minute. I shifted in the uncomfortable silence. Maybe it had been a mistake to come here.

  “I need dependable employees,” he said far too patiently. “Ones that aren’t liars.”

  Ouch. I pretended not to hear the dig.

  “When do you plan on opening?” My eyes drifted around the space again. Looked like a long way away.

  “About a month.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

  We hadn’t really spoken much since the trip to Wyoming where I inadvertently almost ruined our brother Andrew’s wedding. I didn’t know how to answer him, only that I was sick of the distance between my family and me.

  “You want a receptionist or not?”

  “Dad said he’d help out until I find someone.” Holt quickly looked away in a why am I telling her this fashion.

  “He’s keeping Ella almost every day. You can’t pile this on him too.”

  “Because he’s buried underneath all the shit you’ve shoveled on top of him?”

  Damn it. I was messing this up terribly.

  “Yeah. That’s part of it.”

  He stumbled back. That was about as much of an admittance of wrongdoing as I could muster.

  I looked past him and then out to the open space where he could work on cars. “Looks like you could use all the help you can get.”

  Baker stepped in front of Holt. “Are you here to cause trouble?”

  “What did I say?” I snapped before I reeled it in. “Look. The offer’s on the table. You want our help, you’ve got it. You don’t . . .” I shrugged even as my stomach knotted.

  Another epic fail by Marlow Linley.

  Holt squeezed her shoulders. We stared at one another around his protector.

  So much for our temporary truce.

  I wheeled the stroller around and headed for the door without another word. Message clear. Big sister wasn’t wanted.

  “Everybody’s meeting at Dino’s in about an hour.”

  Almost to the exit, I froze. Maybe this wasn’t an epic fail after all.

  Chapter Two

  Patrick

  “I don’t care that he killed his wife and mother-in-law. I’m not taking those cases anymore.”

  I slammed the phone down and dropped my head to my desk. Growing a conscience sucked.

  “Mr. Whitley, the hearing date for the Shaw case is set for six weeks. The check for the copier needs to be signed. Monica, who said you know who she is, called four times.”

  “Where’s the check?’ I extended my hand without lifting my head.

  Gerard placed it between my fingers and clamped them on the check.

  “Can we change the number here?” I groaned.

  “I’ll get on it right away,” my assistant said stoically.

  “Don’t bother. They’ll all find us somehow.”

  “Also, there’s a man in the lobby. He’s been here for two hours. Says he doesn’t mind waiting.”

  I propped my chin on the desk. “What does he want?”

  “An attorney.”

  I resisted the urge to scream. No shit. Everybody wanted an attorney.

  “Tell him we’re not taking on any more cases right now.”

  “I did, sir. He’s insistent.”

  “When you call me sir it makes me feel like my great-grandfather.”

  “Did you even know him?” He arched one sculpted brow.

  “Do you get those waxed?”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Your eyebrows. Do you get them waxed?” I repeated. They were perfect. Just like everything else about him.

  “My personal hygiene is none of your concern.” His scowl deepened. “You have court at ten a.m. tomorrow.”

  He strode from my office like the king leaving court. I dropped my head back to the desk. I was the king around here. At least I used to be before this thing spiraled out of control.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket.

  “Go away,” I mumbled, even as I reached for it. I needed a vacation.

  Dino’s in thirty.

  I popped up. Hell, yes. Good Italian food with my favorite family? With the big bonus of the wicked witch being absent? Hell to the yes.

  “Was beginning to think you weren’t going to show, son.” Mr. Dixon stood and thrust his hand out.

  “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t make it myself. How’s the babysitter-in-chief?” I flicked my chin to the two strollers—wait, two? “You pulling double duty again?”

  My best friend’s father got a funny look on his face.

  “We’ve been waiting on your sorry ass to get here so my brother could share some news.” Andrew slapped me on the shoulder. “Leave it to you to have to be the center of attention.”

  “You know me.” I shrugged and made the rounds. And he did. We’d been friends since college, and he’d put up with me all that time for reasons only the universe knew.

  I kissed the back of Mrs. Quinn’s hand, her cheeks turning a shade rosier.

  “Watch it, Romeo.” Mr. Dixon elbowed me as I released his lady friend’s hand. She was good for him. It was about time he found happiness.

  “Trish, my lovely.” I bent and kissed her cheek.

  She smiled. “Glad you could make it, Patrick.”

  I checked my watch. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at Delores?”

  “Cricket’s closing up shop tonight. Should I be offended you haven’t been by my food truck this week?”

  “I haven’t been anywhere but my office,” I complained, though she was a mother, wife, business owner, and survivor of . . . hell, so I didn’t much have the right. How did she do it all?

  “Tomorrow?”

  “He’ll be there.” Andrew shot me a look that said I’d better not disappoint his new bride.

  I saluted. “I want those scalloped potatoes with the Gruyère.”

  “Not that you’re demanding or anything.” Baker flashed a sugary smile in my direction.

  “Did I upset you by not greeting you first?” I rounded the table and made a show of kissing her cheek. “The last lady, but definitely not least.”

  She gave me the side eye, but the corner of her mouth tugged upward.

  Holt put a protective arm around his girl’s shoulders. “Find your own woman.”

  “I could use some pointers on finding a roommate like you did.” I winked, a dreadful habit I’d picked up from those Dixon men.

  The back of my neck tingled.

  I straightened.

  Baker’s eyes cut around me, and Holt smirked.

  “Why are you here?” That icy voice sent a bolt of irritation straight to my dick.

  I turned. The reception didn’t get any warmer. I fashioned a fake smile on my face. “Well, hello, Wicked. I see you’ve decided to take your broom out for a spin to the city.”

  “It was too much to hope one of your lovely clients had made you disappear.”

  Trish gasped behind me. Marlow moved to her chair and sat as if
she’d said nothing wrong. The only open seat was beside her.

  “I see you’ve been spending more time with your mother.”

  The server brought a bottle of champagne and appetizers.

  I leaned over to her ear. “You want to take a shot, aim them at me. Not innocent people,” I hissed, flicking my gaze over to Trish.

  She went rigid. Remorse didn’t even register on her face. “It was aimed at you.”

  “Don’t inflict your misery on your family.”

  Trish passed both of us a glass of bubbles.

  Once everyone had a flute, Holt lifted his. “Baker has something she wants to tell you.”

  She flushed as Holt kissed the side of her head. “We’re getting married.”

  “Are you stupid?” Glasses halted mid-lift to mouth. “They don’t even know each other,” Marlow said, draining her champagne.

  “I suppose Trish and I don’t either?” Andrew looked ready to spit nails.

  “No. But you’ve already made the mistake.” She snorted. “Dad and I know all about the perils of marriage.”