“You didn’t get all of the glass out,” he tells me gruffly.
I pretend like his close proximity has no effect on me and stare at the top of his head as he brushes a tiny shard of glass out of a cut in my hand.
“What happened with the police?” I ask him.
Dallas drops my hand and picks up the other one, concentrating on searching every inch of it for stray glass. “I told them I was there following up a lead and we were ambushed. I said it all happened so fast that I didn’t have time to pull my weapon.”
I want to thank him for getting me out of there and not saying anything to the police, but I still have no idea why he’s doing this. What’s in it for him?
“Do you think they believed you?”
He lets go of my hand when he’s satisfied that there’s no more glass and looks up at me. I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold now that he’s no longer touching me.
“Of course they bought it. They dusted for fingerprints while I was there. Please tell me you didn’t touch anything when you went into the house. Doorframe, doorknob, anything like that?”
I shake my head no. The only things my hands touched were the floor and the side of Andrew’s neck. Hopefully they didn’t dust his body.
“Then we should be fine. They won’t find your fingerprints and the people in that neighborhood hate cops. When they go door to door questioning neighbors, no one will tell them if they saw anything.”
Dallas moves around me and walks to the door.
“Why are you doing this? Why did you help me?”
He pauses with the door open but doesn’t turn around. “Maybe I just like the idea of you owing me one, Lawyer. I’m sure it will come in handy.”
He’s lying. His words don’t have their usual snarky tone and he won’t meet my eyes.
“Just do me a favor. Start brushing up on your PI skills. I don’t want to have to save your ass again anytime soon.”
No. Absolutely not.”
I pack my files into my rolling bag, pull up the handle, and head toward the door of Fool Me Once.
Kennedy grabs my arm and spins me around. “Lorelei, come on. I know the guy gets on your nerves, but he needs help. And hey, maybe if you do this for him, he’ll stop being such an ass.”
I really cannot believe I’m contemplating this right now. After Dallas left my house the other night, I thought maybe things were going to change between us. I wasn’t expecting friendship or anything crazy like that, but at least civility. I called Stephanie Covington the following day to question her some more about Andrew Jameson and within a half hour of ending the call, I received a text from Dallas that read, “Stop talking to my suspects. Didn’t you learn your lesson by almost getting shot?”
So much for being civil.
“Dallas Osborne is never going to stop being an ass,” I tell her, glancing at my watch.
“This is true. But at least he’s pretty to look at,” she jokes.
I glare at her.
“Come on, Lorelei. Regardless of what a jerk he is, he still helps us out here big time. We owe him for helping Paige bring down Vinnie DeMarco last month.”
It frustrates me that she’s right. Dallas has dropped what he’s doing several times to help Kennedy with past cases, and he was a big help when Paige got herself into a bind with one of the biggest crime families in the state. But that doesn’t mean I have to drop what I’m doing because he suddenly needs a lawyer to rescue him.
“Tell me again what the charges are.”
Kennedy fist pumps and I groan. “This does not mean that I’m saying yes.”
“Whatever. You’re totally going to do it. The dumbass never paid a speeding ticket so they put a warrant out for his arrest. He pissed off the officer who issued the ticket and the guy got a rush put through on the warrant without Ted knowing about it first. God only knows what he said to the guy. Luckily, Ted was able to sweet-talk this idiot into not throwing Dallas in jail. But he’s still being charged with a misdemeanor for failure to pay. If he’s charged, he’s going to lose his license.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“I can tell by the gleam in your eye that you can’t wait to do this.”
Oh, I definitely can’t wait to do this.
Walking down the aisle of one of the smaller courtrooms, I see Dallas sitting at the front table by himself, nervously tapping his fingers on the wood. The judge enters the room from his chambers and sits down at his bench just as I slide into the chair next to Dallas. He looks over at me in surprise.
“What the fuck are—”
I cut him off. “Keep your mouth shut, your head down, and don’t say one word unless I tell you to.”
I immediately stand and Dallas scrambles to get up, still in shock, I’m sure, from my showing up.
“The Honorable Judge Anderson, presiding.”
Dallas leans over and puts his mouth close to my ear, whispering in irritation, “When I told Ted I needed a lawyer, I meant someone good.”
For once, I don’t let his words bother me. He’s in hot water and he needs me. And believe me, I already decided on the way over here how he’s going to pay.
“Be seated,” Judge Anderson announces. “Case number 479862, the State versus Dallas Osborne. Are all parties present?”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I answer.