Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76780 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Since my phone is fucked, I take Dante’s. He’s tense as hell. Thankfully, Jax gives him a comforting squeeze on his shoulder. I do a Google search and quickly find the firm Toby works at. Once I find his direct line listed on their website, I call the number.
“Dante?” His soft voice is tinged with surprise as he answers on the first ring.
“Uh, no, Toby. It’s me. Callan.”
“Callan,” he murmurs, slight disappointment in his tone. “How are you doing? I heard what happened before I left.”
It’s been months and months since that day, but it’s still etched permanently in my mind. A shudder ripples through me at the memory.
“Thanks. I’m calling on an unrelated note. Well, I guess, in a way it’s related.” I sigh heavily. “There are several people in this town who are actively harassing me.”
“What?” He goes from sweet and soft to serious lawyer in a second flat. “What’s going on?”
I spend the next half hour explaining every damn thing that’s happened to both myself and Atlas. The encounters with Ned and the Powers. Mine and Atlas’s relationship. Every detail from last night. The phone calls. Everything. When I finish, he’s quiet for a beat.
“I have a friend in Portland. His name is Jeff Harris. An attorney who’s licensed to practice in the state of Maine. I’ll catch the next flight out of here to see him. He’s the best lawyer in Maine. The Larsons aren’t going to be able to bully him. Together we’ll nail these bastards to the wall.”
After we exchange some information and say bye, I hang up and hand Dante back his phone.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I know he’s the last person you want to see or hear from, but—”
“It’s okay,” Dante assures me.
Jax nods. “We’ll do whatever it takes to get this squared away. Atlas doesn’t deserve to be in there.”
I pick up the maple Long John and stand. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to bring my boyfriend his breakfast.” I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my wallet. I toss it on Jax’s desk. “I’m bailing him out. Use all the cards in my wallet if you have to.”
There are perks to being a trust fund baby.
Bailing out your cop boyfriend because of bullshit charges is one of them.
Atlas
One week later…
“Good luck, Mr. Larson,” my attorney, Jeff Harris, says. “And if you ever want to leave this town, I know people with the Portland PD who’d love to have someone like you on their force.”
I shake his hand. “I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done.”
“Thank your boyfriend.” He winks at me. “The Kincaids paid handsomely to have you properly represented.”
Callan hooks his arm around mine and shrugs it off like it’s no big deal. But it’s a huge deal. He came to bat for me and swung hard. I still can’t believe that he made a few calls and got the best attorneys available to come running to my side. My parents are arrogant, but it took one meeting with Jeff Harris and Toby McAdams before realizing how outmatched they were.
Today, the charges against me were dropped to avoid a countersuit. Jeff wasn’t putting up with their bullshit threats. He’s like a snake. A garden snake if he’s on your side and a venomous rattlesnake if he’s not. When Jeff laid out a plan to unravel my parents’, Ned Townsend’s, and Dean Bell’s lives by placing them at the center of a premeditated attempt to frame a cop, they were quick to retreat.
If they continued pressing on Jeremy’s behalf, they would lose and draw them all into a crime that every single one of them would see jail time for. Needless to say, they dropped the charges and agreed that there wouldn’t be any more problems from any of them.
“If you’re ever out this way again,” I say to Jeff, “come see me. I’ll buy you a beer.”
He tips his head. “I’ll take you up on that.”
Once he’s gone, Callan and I leave the interview room where we’d held the mediation with the attorneys. The police station is empty, being that it’s Christmas Eve. Jax and Brie are on call but aren’t hanging around the station. I’d been surprised that Jeff came before the holidays to finish this nightmare. Not complaining, though.
“Now what?” Callan asks. “Everything’s closed.”
We step outside. A blanket of snow covers everything. The street has been cleared away, but there aren’t many drivers out. Each business on Main Street, including the police station, is lit up with Christmas lights and fancy wreaths hanging in front of the windows.
“We could vote on the best wreath,” I say, motioning to the one that Brie and Cato made for our window.
“You can’t vote for your own window.” He bumps his hip against mine. “But you can vote for Jarrett’s.”