Defend Me: A Brother's Best Friend Romance Novel (Free Book 3) Read online

  Mr. Dixon paled.

  Mrs. Quinn touched his thigh in support. “I’m familiar with them as well. That doesn’t mean all of them go wrong.”

  “Mine died.” Marlow reached for the champagne and refilled her glass.

  “As did mine.”

  She jerked her gaze to Mrs. Quinn. Of course the wicked one thought she was the only person to have loved and lost.

  Marlow unrolled her silverware. “Stop looking at me like that. What’s wrong with me watching out for my little brothers?”

  “Is that what you call this?” I polished off my champagne, grabbed the bottle, and tipped some in my mouth before I passed it to Baker. “When’s the big day?”

  She took a swig of her own. “Don’t know. He already got the marriage license.”

  I captured her left hand. “Where’s the ring?”

  Holt cut his eyes over to me. I got the thanks a lot, asshole message loud and clear.

  “It’s over on West 16th Street.” Baker held out the champagne to Holt.

  “Am I missing something?”

  “That’s where his new garage is,” Andrew volunteered. “He gave her that as a ring.”

  “You knew about this?” Trish smacked him in the arm.

  “Bright Side, I did the paperwork. You would’ve told her.” He motioned toward Baker, who nodded smugly.

  “I hope we can come whenever you decide on a date,” Mrs. Quinn said. “Or at least let us have a reception.”

  Marlow made a disgruntled noise, and I kicked her foot.

  “How!”

  Blake got me every time with that. Sure, it was annoying after a few hours of the word on repeat, but it was still cute.

  I stood and scooped him out of his carrier. “How.” I nuzzled his nose.

  “He was fine where he was.” Marlow glared as I settled her son in my arms.

  “Let’s take a poll. The final decision is mine and Baker’s, but we’ll take the input.” Holt slung an arm on the back of Baker’s chair.

  Ella released a blood curdling scream. The rest of the restaurant went quiet, but we continued like nothing had happened.

  “Does that mean she wants to participate or is against the idea?” I asked Trish.

  She grinned. “Participate. Definitely participate.”

  “Well, little lady. If your sister came to you for a job, would you give it to her?” Holt directed the question at Trish’s daughter.

  “Is she like your sister?” I asked, rocking Blake. “The answer would be a resounding no.”

  Mr. Dixon shifted in his seat, his attention on Marlow. “Are you trying to make peace or stir up trouble?”

  “You know what? Forget it.” Her chair screeched across the floor as she stood. She held out her hands for Blake.

  “Sit down,” I said. “They think I’m the one who has to be the center of attention, but it’s all you, Wicked.”

  “Go to hell.”

  “I went by your house, but you weren’t home.”

  She gripped the back of her chair and glared at Holt. “If you didn’t want my help, you could’ve just said so.”

  “Forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

  “You’ve wreaked havoc for months and then you show up out of nowhere and do your version of nice. Which isn’t, by the way,” Baker said. “We’re starting a new business, a life together. One you’ve made clear you don’t approve of. Neither of us have room for negativity. So if that’s all you’ve got, you can keep it.”

  What would it be like to have a woman like that? That had your back. Would tell your sister off if she was wrong. I’d never know, that was for sure.

  “Give me my child.” Marlow shook her arms, her expression that she meant business.

  Blake gripped the lapel of my suit.

  “You’re not ready to go are you, how now?” We grinned at each other, though I hoped I didn’t have the same string of saliva connecting my mouth and shirt like he did.

  “Let me keep him. I haven’t seen my grandson in weeks.” Mr. Dixon fixed his daughter with a stare I wouldn’t argue with. But this was Marlow we were talking about.

  “Some other time.” She picked up her purse and pried Blake from my arms. “You’re the last person he needs to influence him.”

  The parting shot stung, but it was the one thing she’d said all night that was the truth.

  Chapter Three

  Marlow

  This was a mistake.

  I backed out of the restaurant, nearly hitting a man with the door.

  “Don’t worry, I’m good,” he said.

  I didn’t even look up, let alone mumble an apology. I ran completely out of fucks nearly two years ago. No way would I change for a stranger when I couldn’t give my family the courtesy.

  “Wicked.”

  I gripped the handles of the stroller and picked up my pace.

  “What the hell was that back there? Are you determined to ruin anything related to your brothers and their weddings?”

  “Shut up.”

  “Oh, that’s real nice.” Patrick fell in step beside me. “Why did you even show up if you were going to act that way? It was worse than awful, even for you.”

  “Then why are you chasing me?”

  “Because I don’t want you to alienate the people who give a shit about you.”

  “Don’t act like you’re one of them,” I spat, pausing when I approached a crosswalk.

  “I didn’t mean me.” His words were acid. I deserved them, but they burned no less.

  “Mind your own business.”

  “They know you. Or they thought they did. Your offer to work for Holt was the equivalent of an olive branch. But that attitude”—he waved his hand behind him—“it’s not going to cut it.”

  “When did you become the moral authority? You’ve defended murderers, rapists, husbands who kept their wives as sex slaves.” I flashed him an insincere smile.

  “I’ve never denied any of that.” When the man on the crosswalk signal lit green, Patrick continued with me. “Wicked, you’ve made your feelings about me perfectly clear. Frankly, I don’t give a fuck. But those people around that table are family to me. You can’t treat them like they’re nothing.”

  “They’re my family. Not yours.”

  “Start acting like it.”

  I halted. Heat sizzled between us. Hate and lust in one giant clusterfuck.

  “Get over it, Marlow. Don’t be a bitch, Marlow. Be strong for Blake, Marlow.” I mimicked all the implied advice thrown at me over the years. “I’m a good mother. I’m honest. And if they or anybody else doesn’t like it, they can go screw themselves.”

  I deflated as soon as the rant escaped me. None of them understood. And no one was going to tell me how to behave. If they’d been through what I had, they’d be this hard too.

  “Honesty is appreciated. Could you maybe sugar-coat it a little?” He flashed me this lop-sided grin that I itched to return.

  “No,” I said flatly.

  His face fell, and he shrugged. “If you want them to forgive you, you better do something drastic.”

  “Why do I have to do anything at all?” I cried. “I told them I didn’t know she would show up in Wyoming. That’s on them if they don’t believe me.”

  “It’s on you,” he said evenly. “Hiding a relationship with your estranged mother for years is definitely all on you.”

  “What’s so wrong with having a relationship with my mother? My brothers are just jealous.” Even as I said it, I knew it was so much more than that. I knew exactly why choosing her over them was wrong. Lesson learned the hard way.

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Do what?”

  “Play stupid.”

  “Take your stupid and go back to dinner.” I took off down the sidewalk again without a real direction.

  Patrick didn’t know anything. Or he knew too much was more like it.

  “My stupid is going in the opposite direction,” he said under his breath, givi
ng me a pointed look.

  “We both made a mistake.” I stared straight ahead, though my face got hot.

  “No need to remind me every chance you get.”

  “If you weren’t everywhere I go, I wouldn’t.”

  “You keep it up and you won’t have to worry about it anymore. Your brothers won’t want anything to do with you.”

  They already didn’t. Because I couldn’t keep my mouth closed. Couldn’t stop lashing out.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “A starting point would be getting through one meal without insulting the shit out of somebody. C’mon, Marlow. Holt announcing his engagement was a softball. All you had to do was say congratulations. You didn’t even have to smile. You could’ve done that grimace thing you’re so good at. Everyone would have considered it a win.”

  I scowled.

  “No. That’s not the look I’m talking about.” He cocked his head to the side, and my frown deepened. “Hmm. Getting closer.”

  “How the hell can anyone possibly stand more than three minutes with you?”

  “I could say the same of you.” He put his hands in his pockets. “Because I like Baker and Holt, I’m going to tell you how to fix it.”

  “Can’t wait to hear this,” I said under my breath.

  “You really want to help them? Don’t say it. Show them. Go to the garage ready to work. Volunteer for whatever they need done.”

  No way would that work.

  “That’s your grand plan?”

  “It’s a first step. When you get there, you can’t complain. Can’t insult them. Tell them you had a shitty day, so you didn’t have a great reaction to their news tonight. That you’re happy for them.”

  “Basically become someone else.”

  “Be the person you used to be.”

  I dug a finger into his arm. “I was never that person. You act like I was Miss Sunshine.”

  “The times I saw you, it seemed like you were.” He remained casual while I continued to get worked up.

  “No way.”

  “When’s the last time you really smiled?”

  I knew the exact second. Thinking about it made my knees weak.

  “Not because of you.”

  He winced, but quickly recovered. “Your dad misses Blake.”

  “Why don’t you share something personal I can guilt trip you about?” I suggested.

  I was doing the best I could. No one seemed to understand I’d lost my life but had to keep living. What was I supposed to do with that?

  He held up both his hands. “I tried. I swear I did,” he said to the sky.

  “You’ve done your good deed for the day. Run along now.” I flicked my wrist in a shoo motion.

  He shook his head, blew out what was most probably a frustrated breath, and for a moment, I felt my anger shift to pain. I hated how everyone did that around me. At me. Because of me.

  There was a time when Patrick looked at me without frustration. A time when there was softness in his expression. But not anymore. Now disappointment reigned. That along with his own anger as he said, “You grew up with no influence at all from your mother. So how the hell did you end up just like her?”

  Chapter Four

  Patrick

  What was I thinking?

  The second she’d hit the door of Dino’s, I was after her. And to what end? She wasn’t my friend. Had been a royal bitch to me, if I were completely honest. Why did I care if she pissed away her family?

  Because I’d seen a rare moment of vulnerability. Been behind that thick wall she had between her and the rest of the world. Maybe she wasn’t the easygoing, smiley type like her brothers and Mr. Dixon. But most of all, she hurt and didn’t know how to cope.

  I didn’t want her to push the people who loved her past the point of no return. She needed them, although it appeared she didn’t seem to think so.

  But what she’d done? Volunteering to work for Holt? That meant something. I just didn’t know what.

  “Going after her only encourages her,” Andrew said as we strolled down the sidewalk.

  “I used to think she was just lashing out. But she really goes below the belt,” Trish said as she threaded her arm through her husband’s while he pushed Ella in her stroller.

  “Glutton for punishment.” I kicked at a smashed water bottle on the sidewalk, then thought better of it and picked it up, depositing it in a trash can.

  “I’m trying not to take her shots personal, but it’s getting harder and harder.”

  “What she did, with your mother, it was awful,” Trish said quietly. “That doesn’t mean we should just give up on her.”

  “I don’t want to, but what the hell do we do?”

  “I told her to show up at the garage and play nice,” I said.

  “How’d that go over?” Andrew asked wryly.

  “Worse than you imagine.”

  “No two ways about it, this sucks. But what it’s doing to Dad? As if dealing with that witch wasn’t enough, now Marlow’s adding to the shit pile.”

  “He’s not fragile,” Trish said.

  Yet another woman who defended the men she cared about, even her father-in-law.

  “Can you do me a favor?” She turned those kind eyes on me. Like I could say no to Trish. I owed her until kingdom come.

  “Name it.”

  “You know Cricket,” she started, glancing at Andrew before returning her gaze to me. “I—Could you check into her?”

  “I’m a lawyer not a detective,” I said with a smile.

  “But you have people who dig into things.”

  “You giving away trade secrets?” I nudged Andrew and reached around him, tugging on Trish’s ponytail. “I’ll check into it. Am I looking for anything specific?”

  “No.” Her mouth flattened. “I just think whatever trouble she’s been in may be following her.”

  “What about that cop who comes by the food truck? Have you talked to him?” I asked.

  “She sprinted the first time he showed up. And every time he’s at the window, she finds some way to hide.”

  “The girl is skittish for sure.”

  “She needs help. I recognize it,” Trish insisted.

  “We’ll see what we can dig up. She still living at the shelter?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll get my guy on it.”

  “You’re the best.” She beamed at me.

  “I thought I was,” Andrew protested.

  “You’re the best dad. And the best husband.”

  I loved these two, but I threw up a little in my mouth. Something strongly resembling jealousy roared inside me.

  I checked my phone, tempted to toss it on the sidewalk. Whoever invented this instant access to everyone at all times should be ashamed. It used to be much easier to give the brush off.

  It vibrated in my hand.

  You won’t get away with it

  The caller ID showed as unknown. Unease slithered through me, but the words could mean anything.

  “That a text from Monica?” Andrew emphasized her name. “I thought you quit seeing her months ago.”

  “You had a girlfriend?” Trish piped up.

  “He went out with the same woman more than once. That constitutes a relationship for Patrick.”

  I punched him in the arm, though I was relieved they’d solved the mystery text. “She called the office four times today. And I did quit seeing her months ago.” And now she’d resorted to texting me from an unknown number

  “Because of Marlow?” Trish prodded.

  “No,” I said quickly. “An alligator wouldn’t go out with her.” She flashed me an if you say so bub look. “Monica ran her course.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I know. Let’s meet up with her. See if you can stand an entire dinner with her.”

  “Like she could stand one with you,” Andrew said.

  “Marlow suggested the same thing earlier,” I returned dryly. “I had no idea I was
so difficult to be around.”

  “How’s the shift in focus?” Trish asked, attempting a smooth transition to another subject.

  Guilt niggled in my chest. “Word hasn’t gotten around that I’m not defending just anyone now.”

  “You weren’t before, either. Worst of the worst.”

  I pointed at Andrew. “We can’t all stay on the safe side of the street in real estate law. You have one client you represent.”

  “It was a joke, man. You didn’t used to take this so seriously.”

  He’d dished out his fair share of jibes over the years, but things were different now. After what had happened with Trish, I began questioning my entire career.

  “Now that I’m off the market, I’m getting more calls than ever. Just today, someone wanted me to defend a guy who allegedly killed his wife and mother-in-law.” I pushed a hand through my hair. “I can’t do it.”

  Trish and Andrew exchanged a look.

  “You had no idea you were defending—”

  “I never wanted to take that case.”

  She paused mid-stride. “I don’t blame you.”

  “You should. I’m the one who got that sadistic bastard out on bond. He could’ve . . .” The end of that sentence choked off.

  “I’m okay.”

  “No thanks to me,” I shouted, instantly reeling it back. “I’m sorry. I just—”

  “The women at Paths of Purpose appreciate all you’re doing. I appreciate it, but you don’t have to make anything up to me.”

  She was wrong. She was so very wrong. Because of my egocentric trip, believing beating the jury was better than incarcerating the truly evil guy, Andrew nearly lost Trish. I didn’t think I’d ever forgive myself for that level of vainglory. So, Trish was wrong.

  “Yeah, I do.”

  Chapter Five

  Marlow

  Why was I listening to that ass?

  For the second day in a row, I pulled on the old metal door to Holt’s garage. He paused mid-sentence when I pushed Blake’s stroller toward him.

  “Let’s make sure the framing on the lift is sound.”