Читать книгу The Hardest Fight - Amy Vastine - Страница 14

CHAPTER SIX

IF DYLAN HAD to write a list of words that described Lucy Everhart, it would include every synonym for infuriating. Her nasty attitude toward him was beyond tiring. It was unbelievable that she could be so bitter when she was the one who had ended their relationship half a decade ago. If anyone had a right to be hateful, it was Dylan, not she.

He decided he needed to do whatever it took to get this deal promptly done for Prime Developments. Paige was the key and Dylan had her all figured out. The gifts of furniture and repairs opened the door exactly as he’d planned. What he hadn’t expected was the way she’d taken to Eugene. It was an added bonus.

The good news was that Eugene seemed equally smitten. He was definitely disappointed when Paige didn’t stick around on Sunday while they painted. She had business to attend to at Safe Haven and left them to work under the watchful eye of Hannah, her assistant.

Lucy was not around, which was a relief. He couldn’t take any more of her wrath. She made him question everything about their shared past. The things she had said at lunch made him feel as if she’d doubted his fidelity when they were together, which was unbelievable. When she had been in his life, there had been no one else. No one caught his eye the way Lucy still did.

“I have to go,” Eugene said, wiping his hands on a rag. “Jeremy gets home in an hour.”

They had primed all the walls and trimmed everything in the light gray Paige had picked out. Dylan could finish the rest on his own fairly easily. “Thanks for your help this weekend. I owe you one.”

“You always owe me one. I think we’re up to somewhere around a hundred ones by now.”

“You know I’m good for it, right?”

“Maybe if you give my number to Paige so she can call me, you know, whenever she needs a handyman, I’ll call us even.”

Dylan’s eyebrows lifted. Good ol’ Eugene was more than smitten. Taking care of Jeremy was all he ever focused on. It was good to see him doing something for himself. “Well, well, well. I think someone hopes she calls for more than just a handyman.”

Eugene fought a smile as his cheeks pinked up. “Don’t forget to touch up the ceiling where we patched.”

“I won’t,” Dylan promised, chuckling at his friend’s attempt to change the subject.

Finishing the job alone wasn’t difficult. Hannah was busy gossiping with someone on the phone, classic rock was playing on the radio Eugene left behind and rolling paint on the wall didn’t take too much skill. Dylan let the music move him while he worked. His hips began to sway a little and his head bobbed to the beat. During a particular part of the song, he might have strummed a few chords of air guitar.

“What are you doing?”

Dylan’s head snapped in the direction of her voice. Lucy was staring as if he was spray painting graffiti on the walls. He gave his work a quick once-over to make sure he hadn’t messed something up while enjoying the music. When he was satisfied that everything was fine, his gaze landed back on her. “Painting.”

“Painting?” She cocked a brow. “Not channeling Eric Clapton?”

Was she teasing him? When the corners of her mouth curled up the tiniest bit, he relaxed and shrugged. “You know how I feel about Eric Clapton. I can’t resist when he’s on.”

She almost unleashed a grin but controlled herself and moved on to Hannah, who was more than eager to get out of there. Dylan tried not to eavesdrop on their conversation, but it was impossible. Lucy somewhat reluctantly agreed to stay until he was finished painting so Hannah could have the rest of her Sunday off.

No one wanted Lucy to babysit Dylan less than he did. Things had been going so smoothly, and now he was destined to walk on eggshells the rest of the afternoon. Luckily, she slipped into her office and shut the door. Maybe this way they could each pretend the other didn’t exist.

Dylan went back to painting, ignoring the pull Lucy’s presence had on him. What was she doing here on a Sunday? Did the woman ever take a day off? Had she known he was here and come to check on him? How long was it going to take her to inform him for the millionth time that he was unwelcome and she planned to do everything in her power to win this fight?

Lucy didn’t come out or say anything to incite another argument, but sounds coming from the other side of the wall made Dylan curious. Groans of frustration. Slamming of books. Obscenities shouted, perhaps at the computer. Dylan couldn’t be sure.

Against his better judgment, he set his paint roller down and knocked on her door. “Do I need to call for help?”

The door swung open and a beautiful but frustrated Lucy had exasperation written all over her face. “You’re a lawyer.”

It was a strange statement and one Dylan wasn’t sure what to do with. “I am. Do you need a lawyer? Did you kill someone in here?” He leaned forward and took a peek inside her office for a dead body.

Her shoulders sagged. “I need to consult with someone on a case. I can’t figure out what’s going on and I’m ready to pull my hair out.”

She had pretty blond hair. The last thing he wanted was for her to yank it all out. Dylan’s fingers itched to run through it as they used to when she hadn’t been so opposed to his existence.

“You can consult with me,” he offered. He quickly questioned whether that was the answer she was looking for. He could never be sure with her. “If that’s what you need.”

Lucy stepped back and waved him into her office. Warily, he crossed the threshold. Maybe this was some sort of trick. She might be luring him in only to take him out. He pulled on the collar of his T-shirt and sat down.

“I agreed to take this divorce case, but it’s bigger than that. My client brought me all these files and said that she’s afraid her husband set her up, possibly tricked her into committing a crime. I think he might have embezzled some money from his company and made it look like it was her doing. Do you have any idea what any of this means?”

She turned her laptop around, revealing a spreadsheet. Dylan pulled the computer closer and began scrolling through the information. He was no accountant, but he had analyzed enough similar documents in white-collar cases to know that Lucy had every reason to be concerned.

“It’s called smurfing. You deposit small amounts of money into several accounts. The banks would have to report a fifty-thousand-dollar deposit but not five ten-thousand-dollar deposits. He just had to make sure he did them over a long enough period of time, since he was doing it all under her name. What else do you have that connects your client to this?”

Lucy shared the other files from the flash drive as well as hard copies of some documents, including bank statements in her client’s name. Dylan examined everything carefully and asked questions as he scanned each piece of potential evidence.

What felt like minutes turned into hours. It was as if they were transported back in time, back to when they would work on mock cases in their criminal defense class or when they spent entire days studying for the bar exam. They had always collaborated so well, balancing out one another’s strengths and weaknesses. Dylan realized it wasn’t just working with Lucy but working on something meaningful that made him feel more alive than he had in a long time.

“Look at this,” he said after scanning one of the PDFs with a list of financial transactions. “I think he’s taken more than what he put in the accounts in her name. This company comes up multiple times but it’s not on the list you showed me earlier.” He dug through some papers until he found the right one. “Brick Industries must be something he set up to funnel money into.”