Page 1 of Not Mine to Rescue

Chapter One

Wombat

Everything has an expiration date. Milk, overdue library books, and relationships. Shit, even toxic family should be kicked to the curb. Because life can be too short to pay for the mistakes of others. Which was the conundrum running through my head as I sat chained to the table while I waited for my lawyer to show his slick mug, spout off some bullshit, and make nice with the cops before I was free again. Or not.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been in this predicament.

But I was running out of second chances. The local police caught me dead to rights as I created a distraction for the club. By making a big enough nuisance of myself, I kept them from looking where the real trouble was. And that was the whole point of popping a wheelie through that intersection and scaring the shit out of some old lady who shouldn’t have been driving late at night.

She crashed her car and blamed it on me.

Reckless driving. Public endangerment. Oh, and the secondary, but worst charge… resisting arrest with a side dish of assaulting a police officer.

Damn straight I did that. The cops hated me, hated the club I hung around with, and hated the stench of disobedience on me. Plus, they swung first.

Hopefully, James Crowne, Esquire, could fast-talk them out of that combo. I doubted he could. He wasn’t that good.

A commotion at the door broke my self-psychoanalysis. The muffled pair of voices grew louder as their argument spilled into the interrogation room.

“—And I’m telling you I don’t need your help. Remember who recommended you to this firm?”

The brunette’s sharp voice cut off as she caught me looking.

James stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

She shrugged it off like he had terminal cooties.

With visible effort, she plastered a smile on her face. It did amazing things. Like short-circuiting my brain, sending a zing to my dick, which up until now had completely “noped” out of the situation, and most precious of all, it brightened her whole face.

I wish I had someone who’d light up like that every time they looked at me.

She stuck out her hand. “I’m Honoria Ryder, your legal representative from Poe and Walsh.” She spoke her first name by dropping the “h” making the first syllable an “ah” and emphasizing the “NOR” portion. If I’d have read it first, I would have ingrained the wrong pronunciation into my gray matter and missed out on the most beautiful word in the English language.

As much as I wanted to touch that outstretched hand and feel the baby-soft skin she offered, I couldn’t. I rattled the chains attached to my wrist cuffs in response. With what little manners I had, I tried to stand, but got stymied by the chain tethering my waist, wrists, and ankles to the table via an eyelet. My movement slid the table, creating a horrible screech.

James the dickface jumped in front of Honoria as he tried to hustle her back out the door.

She wasn’t having it. Through gritted teeth, she berated James. “Get your hands off me. He was just trying to stand up.”

I settled back into my chair. The guard in the room with me shot me a look and a shrug. With exaggerated clarity, he mouthed, “Divorce.”

Oh.

I guess I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t keep a relationship going.

“I was protecting you.”

“Can it, Jim, or I’m telling the partners you put hands on me, again.”

Again? Dude just hit my shit list. Not somewhere down the row of people I’d like to wax, but right near the top. It was getting crowded up there.

“Fine.” Jim turned to me, “Honey’s on this one, sorry. I know Walt wanted me.”

Honey? The evil grin on my face slid into place before I could stop it.

Honoria glared at me, then back at Jim.

“Are you done undermining me?”