Courtney
I’m just pushing the shopping cart out of the grocery store when I nearly mow down Whitney. And it’s surprisingly by accident. She jumps out of the way and hisses at me.
“Well, if it isn’t the convict, little Courtney Girl Killer.” Her nose wrinkles in disgust. Now I finally know how it feels to be on the receiving end of Whitney’s bitchiness. Not much worse than being her friend, oddly enough.
“Screw you,” I bite out and start to move past her.
She grabs the cart and puts her foot on the bottom to keep it from going anywhere. We’re standing just outside of the doorway and people have to step around us to go by.
“Word on the street is you’re fucking the freak. I always knew you were a bottom feeder,” she bites out. “You proved that when you chose his equally weird-ass sister over our friendship.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me. “Move.”
“Or what? You’ll beat me up again?” she scoffs and flips her silky brown hair.
“Your dad wanted to help her,” I bluff. I’m not sure why Raven had his card but maybe Whitney knows.
For a moment, her eyes widen and her lips part. Then, her face contorts into a nasty expression. “My daddy wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole.”
At that, I lift a brow. “Touch?”
Her neck burns bright red and I’ve never seen her so upset. “Fuck you, dirty slut.” She storms off into the store without another word.
My curiosity gets the better of me. Ever since I found the business card in her notebook, I’ve wondered what she could have employed the help of Mr. McConnell with. I rush to Mom’s car and load the groceries into the trunk. Instead of taking them straight home, I drive to the law office of McConnell, Gruber, and Shelton.
Growing up, we weren’t allowed to visit Mr. McConnell at his law office. Whitney’s mother was all about keeping up appearances. She said by us going up there, it would dampen the professionalism they exude there. I’d never been too bothered, but I could tell it annoyed Whitney. She’s always been more of a daddy’s girl.
When I pull up, it takes me a bit to find a parking spot. Once I climb out of the car, I frown at my appearance. If I’d known I was going to his fancy law office, I would’ve worn something nicer. Currently, I’m anything but. I’d thrown on a fitted pink tank top and a pair of Victoria’s Secret black cotton shorts. My long hair is messily twisted into a bun and my tennis shoes are the ones I wear to the diner, so they’re scuffed and dirty.
Ugh.
With a frown, I fling the giant glass door on the front of the building open and walk inside. The lobby smells of cinnamon and oranges, a surprisingly welcome scent. A woman sitting at the receptionist desk narrows her eyes at me.
“May I help you?”
I walk over to the desk and clasp my hands, resting my forearms on top. “I need to see Mr. McConnell, please.”
Her features screw up into one of displeasure. “I’m sorry, but do you have an appointment?”
“No, but I’m a friend of his daughter’s,” I lie.
She rolls her eyes but quickly turns her head so that I don’t see. Irritation bubbles up inside of me.
“He’s at the courthouse, but I can have him call you when he gets back,” she says blandly as she picks up a pen. “What’s your name again?”
I open my mouth but then the door behind me opens. Two men laugh as footsteps make their way toward us. The receptionist sits up straight and her cheeks bloom pink. I jerk around to see Mr. McConnell and another guy around his age both dressed in suits striding our way.
“Courtney?” he asks, astonished. “What are you doing here?” I’d always thought he was handsome growing up, but he was also so cold and closed off. He’s an exact replica of his daughter, which I used to think was cool, but now it simply makes me nervous. His stare is the same scrutinizing one she has.
“Mr. McConnell,” I rush out. “I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time. As friends.” I don’t want him to bill me at his ridiculous amount. Three-hundred dollars an hour, my mom said. When all the shit went down last year, she called hoping he’d help us out, but then he’d told her his rate. Of course we couldn’t afford it.
His friend snorts, flashing me a devilish look before slapping Mr. McConnell on the shoulder. “Let me know how your meeting goes later.”
Mr. McConnell laughs and waves his friend off as he regards me. “You’re not a child anymore, Courtney. Call me Jackson.” I’ve always been the annoying friend of his teenage daughter, which means he never hardly looked at me before. Now, his brown eyes sparkle with interest. As if he’s genuinely curious about why I’m here. Under his bold stare, I feel my skin heat. He smirks as his hand finds the small of my back. “Come to my office. We’ll chat there. Meredith,” he calls out to the receptionist. “Please don’t disturb us.”
She makes a squeak of agreement and I can’t help but be happy that she’s clearly intimidated by him. We walk down a series of hallways until we arrive at what appears to be one of the bigger offices. He pushes inside the door, his hand firmly guiding me inside. The moment he closes the door, he grins at me.
“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever,” he says and holds his arms open as though he’s waiting for a hug.
His approval warms me and I fall into his embrace. As soon as I’m pulled against him, my emotions overwhelm me. My life has been chaos for over a year now. I catfished someone undeserving and drove her to suicide, I lost my best friend, spent time in jail, and have been thrashing to stay above water ever since. This entire town seems to have discarded me as disgusting trash. So now that an important figure from my childhood and teen years is comforting me, I cling desperately to him.
“Shhh,” he coos. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”
Mr. McConnell has never been kind or gentle. Sharp. Severe. Hard. That is the Jackson McConnell I know and remember. While I sob against him, he rubs comforting circles on my back, his fingertips brushing along the swell of my ass. I stiffen and he settles his palm on my butt.
“When did you grow up?” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling my hair.
My stomach roils with nerves, but I don’t move. He’s just trying to soothe me, not feel me up. Mr. McConnell isn’t like that. He probably doesn’t even realize his hand is on my ass.
“I’ve had to do too much growing up in the past year,” I choke out, my voice shaking.
He pulls away and removes his hand from my butt. His brows are furrowed together with worry, once again calming me. Of course he wasn’t being inappropriate. My mind is a frazzled mess.
“I’m sorry Whitney hasn’t been a good friend,” he says with a hint of disapproval. “She’s having some problems of her own. I hope the two of you can work things out again.”
I force a fake smile. My cheerleader smile. If there’s anything I don’t want to do, it’s try and repair my friendship with Whitney. Whitney sabotaged and exposed my relationship with Raven. She was the catalyst for a series of events that destroyed that poor girl’s life and nearly mine in the process.
“Maybe,” I lie.
His thumbs swipe across my cheeks and he cleans away my tears. When I shiver, his palms slide to my shoulders and down the outside of my arms. “We keep it cold in here,” he says with a smile as his eyes drop to my chest. My nipples are indeed sticking out from the cool temperature, but the fact that he’s staring at them through my tank has me shivering from nerves instead. “Here,” he says as he shrugs out of his jacket. “Wear this so you don’t freeze, sweetheart.”
I feel awkward putting on his jacket, but it’s still warm from his body heat. “Can we, um, talk?”
He nods, a frown marring his handsome older face. “Let’s sit.”
I’m guided over to a small leather sofa near the windows of his office. I sit down and he sits close enough that the outside of our thighs touch. He wraps an arm around me and pulls me against his side. All the sudden affection has my heart hammering in my chest. I feel uneasy about it, but then I worry I’m overreacting. Instead of freaking out, I relax against him.
“Spill what’s bothering you,” he says, his voice holding the authoritative tone I remember growing up.
I let out a sigh. “I was wanting to talk about Raven.”
He stiffens and I look up at him in question.
“Raven Murray?” His jaw clenches and his gaze finds the window. “You know we shouldn’t be talking about this. You’ve already been sentenced and served your time. There’s not much more to discuss.”
I don’t like being wrapped up in his side hug when he loses the softness in his voice. It’s as though I’m a trapped animal and the predator is trying to decide if he’s hungry or not. I start to sit up, but his hand on my thigh stops me. My breath seizes up in my chest. He doesn’t do anything with his hand, just settles it on my flesh near the hem of my shorts.
“Um,” I start but lose my courage when he gives my thigh a squeeze. My heart rate hammers in my chest. “Um. I just wanted to ask you a question.”
“Go on, sweetheart,” he encourages as his hand starts rubbing my thigh. “What’s your question?”
“Raven had your card. Why?”
When he doesn’t respond, I look up at him. He’s invading my space and creeping me out, but I want answers.
“I have no idea,” he replies, a flicker of dishonesty in his gaze. “You look just like your mother. You both have those same lips.”
Embarrassment heats my flesh because now he’s looking at my mouth the way Rome looks at my mouth. Like he wants to eat it.
“Mr. McConnell—”
“Jackson,” he mutters, his head lowering to mine.
When I turn my head, his fingers bite into my thigh hard enough to startle me. I jerk back, my mouth open to ask him to stop, and then his lips are on me. Hard and demanding. I’m so shocked that it takes me a moment to realize Whitney’s dad is trying to shove his tongue down my throat. I cry out and push at him.
His lips are wet and red and his eyes are flaring in a slightly manic way. “If you wanted me, sweetheart, you didn’t need to come in here with an excuse. I don’t play the coy games. You’re an adult. We’re both consenting adults. Adults don’t need an excuse to fuck.”
I jerk away from him and stand abruptly. “Y-You’re married,” I stammer out in horror.
He rises to his feet, his erection obvious in his slacks, and towers over me. “What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Just like what Whitney doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It’s been a long time coming, you and I.” He smirks. “Like I didn’t notice all the dirty, sexy looks you’d send my way when you weren’t even legal. Such a naughty girl.” He winks at me as if we share a secret.
“You have it all wrong, Mr. McConnell—”
“Jackson. Although when you say my name like that, it’s a turn-on.”
“I think you’ve misunderstood,” I breathe, my hands held up as if that will keep him from advancing.
But it doesn’t stop him and he steps into my space, pressing his chest against my palms. “Oh, come on, Courtney. Everyone saw pictures of you riding that man’s cock. Word on the street is that you are into older men.”
His hand finds my hip and he rubs his hardness against my stomach. I’m so horrified, I’m unsure of what to do.
Sheep.
Rome’s voice in my head is mocking.
It ignites the fire within me.
I am not a sheep.
I am a wolf.
With a hard shove, I push him away from me. “D-Don’t touch me like that,” I hiss. “You’re way out of line, Jackson.”
The sultry looks he was giving me instantly harden to a furious glare. “Touch you like what?” he demands.
“Kiss me and grope me,” I snap back, my voice shrill.
He crosses his arms over his chest and levels me with a glare. “Give me my jacket.”
I shrug out of it and toss it to him. With his eyes on me, he slides it back on and buttons it.
“Where shall I send the bill?” he asks, his voice cold. “I’m sure your mother already told you my hourly rate.”
I gape at him. “W-What?”
“When you come see an attorney to discuss suing the Murray family for emotional damage, you must pay for our service.”
“What are you talking about? I never said anything about suing!”
His eyebrows lift. “I know you’ve always had a thing for me, sweetheart, but there’s no need to throw yourself at me. I’m a married man, for crying out loud. It’s inappropriate.”
I gape at him as hot tears well in my eyes. “You’re making all this up.”
“Making what up? I’m not the one who showed up barely clothed in an attempt to seduce an attorney into getting free legal advice.” He shakes his head as if I disgust him. “I’m disappointed in you, sweetheart.”
“You’re disgusting,” I choke out. “A lying pig.”
He stalks over to me and lowers his face to mine. “Get out of my office before I call the police, whore.”
I am a wolf.
I slap him hard across the cheek. Surprise registers in his features before he nearly turns purple with rage.
“I could have your ass arrested right now.” He seethes. “One call and you’d be out of here so fast in cuffs, you wouldn’t know what hit you. Are you sure you want to do that to your poor mother again?”
I lift my chin in defiance and call his bluff. “Maybe you should call them. I’d love to let them know what a sicko you are.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks as he narrows his eyes at me. With lightning quick reflexes, he snags the phone from his desk and dials a number. My heart stops in my chest.
“Security? Yes, this is Jackson McConnell. I have a woman needing to be escorted from the property. She’s making threats and has already caused bodily harm.”
He hangs up and regards me with a smug stare.
“This isn’t over,” I spit out at him as I start out the door.
“Oh, sweetheart,” he says in a condescending tone he no doubt taught Whitney, “but it is. Goodbye and don’t come back. Ever.”