Chapter Five

Maggie

I heard Aidan’s voice before I saw him come through the door. He was talking to someone on the phone, and from the sound of it, it was one of our current clients. He had a court case the next day to prepare for, so there was a lot of back and forth with his client—Tyler Dickinson.

Tyler was being charged with manslaughter because of a bar fight that had gotten out of control one night. Tyler was drunk and killed a man with a lead pipe. He was guilty, for sure, there was no denying that. But his father was a wealthy CEO, and there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Tyler would see a day behind bars.

“Listen, Tyler. There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve got it handled. You’ll be fine. I’ll see you in court tomorrow, okay?”

Aidan sighed loudly. I wondered if Tyler heard it because I sure did. “Yes, I’m sure, Tyler. It’s going to be fine.” Aidan rolled his eyes at me and pointed at the phone melodramatically.

Tyler was one of our more needier clients. He needed his hand held every step of the way. His father was wealthy and had paid for Aidan’s services and that wasn’t cheap—but other than that—Tyler was on his own. After the bar fight, his daddy disowned him, even wrote him out of his will—at least—until his name was cleared. Even then, there was a chance he might not be put back in. Don’t soil daddy’s good name with your drunken shenanigans was the message we all took from this case.

And Tyler wanted to try everything in his power to clear his name one hundred percent. Which meant he was grinding poor Aidan to get it done.

Except there was no way to prove he wasn’t guilty. He’d been caught on tape bashing the victim’s face in. Witnesses saw him do it. There were even videos on the internet of the whole fight. No one could deny he killed that man. He was damn lucky he’d only been charged with manslaughter and should be grateful Aidan was going to keep him out of prison. But all he cared about was getting back in his daddy’s good graces—and back into his will.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled, sipping my coffee. I glanced at the note I’d left for myself the day before. Just a name—Amon Flannigan—and a question mark. I tried to forget about my run-in with that creeper, but it was hard to forget such an intimidating man. I’d have to make sure I didn’t forget to deliver the message to Aidan because I didn’t want to have to deal with him again.

Aidan walked into his office, leaving his door open as he continued talking. I watched as he placed his briefcase down next to his desk and then sat down in his chair. He was no longer listening at this point, I could see it in his eyes. He was already thinking of something else, something more important than entitled brats more concerned with their inheritance than paying their dues for killing a man.

“Ty—Tyler, I have to go. Yes—now. I need to finish preparing my opening statements for tomorrow.”

I chuckled to myself, glad Tyler had called Aidan’s cell phone rather than the office so his incessant neediness wasn’t interrupting the start of my day.

“I’ll see you in court tomorrow, an hour before the trial begins. And don’t worry, everything will be just fine. Trust me.”

Aidan put his phone down on his desk and sighed, “Jesus Christ, not what I wanted to deal with first thing in the morning, Mags.”

He was talking to me through the open door, even as I tried to not stare. He knew I was listening, and he didn’t mind or else he’d have closed the door.

“Yikes, that sounded rough, boss,” I said, cringing as I spoke. I looked down at my note and figured now was as good a time as any to pass on the message. “By the way, someone stopped by yesterday after you left. It didn’t seem urgent so I didn’t call, but he asked me to tell you he stopped by.”

I bit my tongue, leaving out the part about how intimidating and creepy he’d been.

“Who was it?” Aidan asked, already looking over the files on his desk. He sounded bored.

“Amon Flannigan?” I said. “The name doesn’t ring a bell, and he doesn’t appear to be a current client of ours.” Aidan’s brows drew deep, creating creased lines around his eyes as he shook his head. He looked… perplexed.

“Wait, what’s his name?” Aidan asked.

“Amon. Amon Flannigan,” I said, glancing into Aidan’s office. “I’m guessing by the look on your face, you know him?”

“Yes, I know him,” Aidan responded, his voice sounding a bit more annoyed than usual. He typically kept it together, acted calm and charming no matter what the conversation was about, so to see him unravel even slightly was a bit unnerving. “Unfortunately, so.”

“He didn’t tell me what the meeting was about, but perhaps you should call him?”

“He can call me if he wants to,” Aidan said. “He knows damn good and well how to get in touch with me. No need to come here except to be a feckin’ arsehole.”

This was a side of Aidan I didn’t see very often. Mild annoyance when technology didn’t work as it should, sure, but outright disdain for someone? Hate and anger in his eyes? The vulgar spew of his tone. Never. Not even some of the most obnoxious evil murderers we dealt with evoked that type of response from him.

But I knew it wasn’t my business to ask.

“Okay then, I just wanted to pass it along since he asked me to,” I mumbled.

Picking up the note, I crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash can, hoping I might forget about Amon Flannigan just from that simple act.

If only it was that easy.