Nine-tenths of the Law Read online

  Nine-tenths of the Law

  L A Witt

  L.A. Witt

  Nine-tenths of the Law

  Without Nichola,

  neither this book nor my writing career would exist.

  Chapter One

  Not thirty seconds after my boyfriend left our booth to get another round of drinks, someone else took his place.

  The stranger was broad-shouldered, dark-eyed, and didn’t look at all happy. He glared at me and, although he didn’t speak, the twin creases between his slightly downturned eyebrows were enough to unsettle me. The blue neon sign in the window beside the booth cast sharp, angry shadows beneath his eyes and his jaw. A goatee framed lips that were tightened into a thin, straight line, the kind of line that threatened to curl into a snarl at any second.

  I cleared my throat. “Can I help you?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Um, okay, I-”

  He cut me off. “I believe you have something of mine, Zach.”

  My blood turned cold. I could have brushed this off as a case of mistaken identity, maybe someone getting territorial about a preferred table at this crowded sports bar, but he knew my name. Swallowing hard, I said, “I, um, I beg your pardon?”

  Folding his hands on the table in front of him, he leaned forward, the shrinking void between us doing nothing to calm my nerves. His joined hands looked more like a single clenched fist, his knuckles bleaching and fingertips digging into the backs of his own hands. Still, that was a less intimidating sight than his expression.

  When he spoke again, his voice was almost too quiet to hear in a place like this, but the undercurrent of barely contained fury carried loud and clear. “I said, I think you have something of mine.”

  “Yes, I heard you.” I tried to stay as calm and collected as possible. “But I think you have me confused with someone else. I don’t even know who you are.”

  With a sniff of humorless laughter, he rolled his eyes and sat up slightly, allowing me to draw an uncomfortable breath as he created a little more distance between us. “Don’t play stupid with me,” he growled. Again he glared at me, and again I couldn’t quite breathe.

  “I’m not playing any games with you.” I put my hands up defensively. “I don’t know who the hell you are, and I sure as shit don’t know what I have that’s yours.”

  “You want to know?” He glanced past me, then looked right at me with narrowed eyes. “You want to know what you have that belongs to me?”

  Intimidation ebbed in favor of anger. Through my teeth, I said, “Yes, please, enlighten me.”

  I swore I could feel his hackles go up as he stabbed a finger in the air, pointing past me, and said, “Him.”

  I looked up just in time to see Jake stop in his tracks, nearly dropping the beer bottles he carried. His jaw went slack as he stared at the accusing stranger.

  Twenty Minutes Earlier

  When I’d arrived at the sports bar, the faint smell of cigarette smoke lingering behind Jake’s cologne hadn’t been unusual. Though he wasn’t a smoker, several of his co-workers were and he’d just come from a dinner with some clients. Someone must have been smoking there or on the way back to the office.

  “Sorry I’m late,” I said.

  He smiled and kissed me lightly. “You’re always worth the wait.” Another kiss, then he made an after you gesture and we went into the bar. It was well after nine on a weekday, but the place was packed. Still, we managed to find a booth near the back, far away from the jukebox that was so loud it rattled my fillings.

  “Your turn to get drinks,” he said as he took a seat.

  “You getting your usual?”

  He nodded, and I headed for the bar. The service was, as always, slow as hell, but someone eventually took my money in exchange for a couple of beers. With drinks in hand, I returned to the booth.

  “So how was the dinner?” I asked.

  “Dinner?” He gave me a puzzled look as he took a long drink of his beer, then suddenly seemed to jump to life, as if he’d forgotten where he’d spent the earlier part of the evening. “Oh, right, that.” He made a dismissive gesture. “Just an extended workday with the addition of some overpriced food.”

  I laughed. “Overpriced food on someone else’s dime.”

  Grinning, he said, “That’s about the only reason it’s worth going to those things.” He took another quick sip. “Did you get hung up at work again?”

  I scowled and nodded. “Fucking projector in the middle auditorium keeps breaking down.”

  “Doesn’t anyone else there know how to fix it?”

  “Dylan thinks he does,” I said. “But he always manages to make it worse.”

  “Good point,” he said. “I’d be afraid to let that man near a jammed stapler.”

  I chuckled just before touching my beer bottle to my lips. “Funny you should mention that.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “Why?”

  Setting the bottle down, I said, “He almost had to have stitches a week or so ago after arguing with a jammed stapler.”

  Jake laughed and put his hands up, shaking his head. “I don’t even want to know. How the hell do you work with someone like that?”

  “Could be worse.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I got the damned thing fixed, so I didn’t have to stay too late this time.”

  “Glad you made it.” He rested his elbows on the table and leaned toward me. “I’ve been needing this all week.”

  I shivered. “You’re not the only one.”

  He grinned and sipped his beer, making sure I noticed when he ran his tongue around the mouth of the bottle. I swallowed hard, and he laughed. Reaching across the table, he let his fingertip drift across the side of my hand. “What time do you work tomorrow?”

  I barely kept from shivering again. It may have been a benign question from anyone else, but not from Jake. What time do you work tomorrow was Jake-speak for it’s going to be a long, long night. Wetting my lips-and noting with satisfaction the way his breath caught-I said, “Not until noon.”

  His grin broadened and his eyes narrowed. His beer bottle stopped just shy of his lips, and he said, “Good. You’ll have time for a couple hours of sleep.”

  Knowing Jake, that wasn’t much of an exaggeration. I took a long drink, needing the beer to cool me down. Thanks to scheduling conflicts at both of our jobs, it had been nearly a week since we’d spent a night together. I needed this so bad I could taste it.

  “I think I’m ready for another round,” he said, setting his empty beer bottle on the table.

  I drained the last of mine. “Make it two.”

  He slid out of the booth and walked past me, gently squeezing my shoulder as he went by.

  After almost half a year together, we still spent just as much time in the bedroom as we had in the beginning. The sex was just too damned good and showed no signs of tapering off.

  Lately, though, we’d spent more time together outside of the bedroom as well. Maybe that was promising. Maybe we were moving in some direction or another. I wasn’t in a hurry either way, but I took this as a good sign. I didn’t know where this would be tomorrow, but at least I knew where I’d be tonight. And after the last few days, I needed to get laid yesterday.

  Resting my elbows on the table, I let my head fall forward and rubbed the back of my neck with both hands. Somehow I always managed to get a crick in my neck after working on that stupid projector.

  It couldn’t have been more than thirty seconds after he left when Jake dropped into his seat again.

  Lifting my head, I said, “Damn, the service is fast here ton-”

  But it wasn’t Jake.

  “Jake, what’s going on?” I said. Confusion and anger coiled in my che
st.

  “Yes, Jake, do tell us,” the stranger said. “What the fuck is going on?” From the sound of it, he was close to losing his temper. If someone didn’t explain things in the next thirty seconds, I wasn’t far behind.

  Jake set the bottles on the table and laughed, smoothing the air with both hands. “Come on, now, you’re both blowing this out of-”

  “I’m only asking what’s going on,” I said. “I’m not blowing a damned thing out of proportion, but I’d appreciate some sort of explanation.”

  “You both have this playing-stupid thing down to an art form,” the stranger said, narrowing his eyes at me.

  I glared at him, then at Jake. “Would someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Jake smiled at me. It was probably supposed to be his usual reassuring smile, but now it just came across as condescending. Sleazy. I wondered if it had always been that way.

  Touching my arm, he said, “Why don’t we get out of here? I can explain on the way home.”

  The stranger stiffened, taking and releasing a long breath through his nose. His hands tightened around each other, and his lips thinned, turning nearly as white as his knuckles.

  “I’m not going anywhere.” I struggled to keep my own temper in check. “Not until someone tells me what the fuck is going on.”

  “What’s going on,” the stranger snarled at me, “is that I’m not particularly fond of sharing my man with another man.”

  “Neither am I,” I said through grinding teeth.

  Jake again smoothed the air with his hands. “Guys, guys, honestly. This isn’t what it seems-”

  “Then what is it?” the stranger and I said in unison.

  He made a flippant gesture and shook his head. “This is-”

  “Fuck it,” the stranger said, moving out of the booth and onto his feet in one smooth motion. “I’ve seen enough. I really don’t care to hear what bullshit explanation you’ve come up with.” Then to me, he growled, “Possession’s nine-tenths of the law, so it looks like you have him. Enjoy.” He started to go, then spat, “I’m sure the two of you deserve each other.”

  And he was gone, but not before I saw the pain in his eyes. Guilt cut right through my anger. Sure, I was just as deceived as he was, but he was hurt because of something I had done, knowingly or otherwise.

  I looked at Jake, then at the empty space the stranger had occupied across from me in the booth.

  “Look, Zach, it’s not what it seems,” Jake said. I wondered if he’d taken that used-car salesman tone of voice with me before and I just hadn’t noticed. Either way, I noticed it now. Have I been missing this side of you all along?

  “I’m sure.” I didn’t look at him. I couldn’t get the stranger’s pained expression out of my mind. Chewing my lip nervously, I got up.

  “Where are you going?” Jake asked with a stunned expression.

  “Doesn’t matter.” I grabbed my jacket, and he grabbed my arm.

  “Zach, let’s talk about this.” The sleazy salesman voice was gone, replaced by a pleading tone that bordered on pitiful, though the grip on my arm was demanding.

  I jerked my arm free and hurried out of the bar. Jake could be dealt with later. This stranger would be gone if I didn’t catch him now. Intentionally or not, I’d hurt him, and if I was going to sleep any time soon, I needed to settle this with him.

  Chapter Two

  My heart was in my throat when I stepped out into the chilly evening air, standing in the same place where I’d waited for Jake just minutes before. I looked up the sidewalk, then down, then back up again, disappointment sinking deeper in my gut as I realized the stranger was long gone.

  “Damn it,” I whispered. Somehow I doubted that Jake would give me a way to reach this guy, and I had no way to find him on my own. He was gone, as were my chances of getting a decent night’s sleep.

  Turning to head back inside, I glanced up the street one last time, and my stomach flipped. There he was. His back was to me, each long stride taking him farther away, but it was him. I was sure of it. With blood pounding in my ears, I followed him.

  “Hey!” I called after him.

  He looked over his shoulder, but didn’t stop. In fact, he walked a little faster.

  “Wait,” I said, resisting the urge to break into a run. He walked faster. I cursed under my breath, then said, “Fuck, would you just wait up a second?”

  The irritation in my voice was probably what made him stop and turn. I didn’t blame him. After all, how dare I get annoyed with him for trying to get as far from me as possible?

  He faced me, hands thrust into his jacket pockets, and I stopped a few feet short of him.

  Before he could speak, I said, “I just want to talk to you.”

  His lips once again thinned into that pale, almost snarling line. When he spoke, I wasn’t surprised at all when his lip curled into a sneer. “And if I don’t want to talk to you?”

  “Then you don’t have to talk,” I said.

  He blinked. Shifted his weight. Set his jaw. Waited.

  I swallowed. “Listen, I don’t know what the hell is going on between you two-” He started to speak, but I put up my hand and he stopped. Taking a breath, I continued. “I honestly had no idea. None. But,” I paused. “Obviously my being involved with him fucked up something you had. And for that, I’m sorry.”

  His lips parted and his shoulders jumped slightly. He dropped his gaze. For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then he took a deep breath. “How long?”

  “How long have I been seeing him?”

  Nodding silently, he reached into his pocket. When he withdrew his hand, guilt sank even deeper in my gut.

  Cigarettes.

  “Fuck,” I whispered before I could stop myself.

  He looked up. “What?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing. Just-” I made a quick, dismissive gesture. “Nothing. Anyway, I’ve been seeing him for about six months. Give or take.”

  He flinched, closing his eyes and shaking his head. I thought he cursed, but couldn’t be sure. He put the cigarette between his lips, stowed the rest of the pack, then pulled out a stainless Zippo lighter. With a quick flick of his thumb and the familiar metal clip-clap, the lighter was open and a flame illuminated his face in dancing orange light.

  Then, just as quickly, the lighter snapped shut, severing the flame, and he looked at me as he took a drag.

  I swallowed hard. “How long were-have you been with him?”

  He lowered the cigarette and exhaled. The thin cloud of smoke obscured his features, but did nothing to dull the intensity in his gaze. “Four years.”

  I sucked in a breath, and in so doing, tasted the smoke in the air. How many times had I smelled that on Jake? How many times had his kiss tasted faintly of smoke that I’d foolishly assumed was from being around his co-workers? Guilt rose like bile in my throat. You’re right. I did have something of yours.

  “So is that everything you wanted to talk about?” he asked, lifting his cigarette again and taking a drag, as if the taste of the smoke would cover up the bitterness of speaking to me.

  “Yeah.” I was suddenly breathless. Winded. What do you say to someone whose boyfriend you inadvertently stole? I had nothing left to say, but didn’t feel right walking away. Not yet. Something deep down told me there was more to say, whether I said it or he did.

  “Well then,” he said, dropping his cigarette and crushing it with the toe of his shoe. “Good night.” He turned to go, leaving me with the smoldering ashes.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He turned, exhaling sharply. His eyebrows rose in an annoyed expression of go on, out with it, I want to leave.

  I hesitated. “Can I buy you a beer?”

  A sudden laugh parted his lips, and the half-smile broke the angry rigidity of his features. The sound was one of amusement this time, not bitterness. The smile fell, then rose again. “Are you serious?”

  “Why not?”

  His eyes lost focus for a moment. T
hen something seemed to shake loose in his shoulders and his expression. “Hell, why not?”

  I nodded past him. “There’s another place up that way. About a block and a half.” Gesturing over my shoulder, I said, “I assume you don’t want to go back in there.”

  “No, definitely not.”

  We walked in silence, facing straight ahead, hands in jacket pockets. There was a safely awkward distance between us-enough that a third person could have filled it with a little room to spare-just far enough to remind me of how uncomfortable we made each other, but close enough that to anyone passing by, we were obviously going somewhere together.

  Still not saying a word, I opened the door to the bar and held it while he stepped inside. It was a crowded sports bar with football games on all of the numerous flat screens, but even the noise of drunk people and bad music didn’t pierce the hollow silence between us.

  I flagged down a waitress and we took our seats at an empty booth that was as far from the heart of the noise as we could get. Once she came and took our orders, I looked at him. Now that we were at a table, facing each other, with no destination to preoccupy our minds as an excuse not to speak, I couldn’t think of what to say.

  After a full minute had gone by, I finally said, “I don’t even know your name.”

  He laughed, the sound barely registering over the noise in the bar. “I guess we haven’t really been introduced, have we?” He extended his hand across the table. “Nathan Forrester.”

  I shook his hand. “Zach Owens.” I paused, my cheeks burning. “But I guess you already knew that.”

  He released my hand, reaching for one of the two beers that materialized on our table. “Well, I didn’t know your last name, so…” He tilted the bottle in a half salute, then drank.

  I took a sip, rolling it around on my tongue for a moment. Then, figuring this couldn’t get much more awkward than it already was, “How did you know my name, anyway?”

  Nathan took a long drink. When he set the bottle down, he spun it with two fingers, watching the label instead of looking directly at me. “When I figured out he was cheating,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear, “I did a little digging. Looked at his cell phone when he was asleep or stepped away.” He gave a flippant shrug. “Devious, sure, but I can’t say I feel too guilty about it.”