Pack Justice (Nature of the Beast Book 1) (31 page)

I slid my fingers under my glasses and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Dare I ask?”

“Ask. Please ask. It gets so much better.”

“How mortifying. Okay, Kevin. What happened?”

“Our office has a kitchen, and within five minutes of my secretary noticing the file, most of my coworkers were gossiping about you.” Kevin snickered and shook his head. “You had already achieved temporary celebrity status because of the Roberts case. Your wife’s meltdown gave you some longevity. Add in Roberts busting out of prison with your wife’s help, and she’s achieved serious villainess status. One of the reporters got some good pictures of you, so now you’re an eligible bachelor of interest.”

While I had been warned there had been some media coverage, I hadn’t expected it to be robust enough for Kevin to follow it. I worried, wondering what else I hadn’t been told. I didn’t blame anyone for keeping me ignorant.

I had a lot of other things on my mind, including adapting to my life as an oddball shapeshifter.

Sitting straighter, I met Kevin’s gaze and drew on my trial experience to cover my growing dismay. “There’s something strange about this. You’re the first person who has actually given me a halfway straight story on what’s been going on in the media. Do I want to know what the reporters have said?”

There was a long moment of silence before Kevin sighed. “How much do you know? I’m surprised you haven’t been following.”

I shrugged. “Morphine was my doctor’s drug of choice, and when I wasn’t drugged, I was answering questions. I haven’t been watching the news. I’ll likely horrify myself later tonight going over old articles to catch up, but give me the basics.”

“In short, the media claims your wife attempted to kill you while you were on vacation, and when she didn’t succeed the first time, she kidnapped you from a hospital with the help of men you tried over your long years as a rather successful prosecuting attorney. Your wife helped bust Douglass Roberts out of prison, and they took you into the mountains somewhere, probably to take their time torturing you in revenge before killing you. Roberts was killed by the local wildlife, your wife’s missing, and you were recovered in serious bordering critical condition.”

I felt my eyebrow rise. “That’s the short version?”

Laughing, Kevin patted the folder. “You probably don’t want to know the long version. Half the media thinks your wife tried to kill you because you were cheating on her. That one died out pretty quick. Apparently the only woman they found to implicate in an affair absolutely hates you.”

I groaned, as there was only one woman I had had any consistent interactions with in the two months prior to leaving for New York, and I rather enjoyed my trysts with her. “Let me guess: Andrea Morgan, the defense attorney from the Roberts case.”

“Bingo! The reporters managed to find a few pictures of you two together, which sparked conspiracy theory number two.” The way Kevin grinned filled me with foreboding.

“I’m not sure I want to know conspiracy theory number two.”

“Oh, trust me. You do. Since it was obvious you and Andrea Morgan are not exactly on bedroom terms with each other, some idiot reporter decided it might be a good idea to suggest Miss Morgan had conspired with your wife to get rid of you as payback for making her lose the Roberts trial.”

My mouth dropped open, and I sputtered at the thought of anyone accusing Andrea of trying to kill me. “Are they stupid? Roberts didn’t stand a chance in court, no matter how good Morgan’s defense was—and her defense
was
good. What happened?”

“One of the best five minutes of news in months. Someone at one of the local stations thought it was a good idea to catch Miss Morgan on live television leaving the courthouse. She roasted the reporter and left his reputation in a bubbling ruin on the courthouse steps. You should send that woman a bouquet of flowers. She said a bunch of nice things about you while making it perfectly clear the reporter was an incompetent idiot. Thus ended conspiracy theory number two.”

While I had hoped to get some information out of Kevin, the real estate agent’s love of gossip took me by surprise. I tried to imagine Andrea chewing out a reporter and grinned. “Well, I know what I’ll be searching for first when I go to see everything I’ve missed.”

“It’s always nice when a pretty girl says nice things about you, huh?”

“Considering the way she glares at me, it’s no wonder the reporters concocted such a ludicrous theory.” I shook my head and paused to take a sip of water, wondering how to handle the real estate agent—and potentially help spread the accepted story of what had happened.

Hiding the truth bothered me, but there was nothing I could do about it. Drawing a deep breath, I sighed and wrinkled my nose. “The media has a more entertaining story than the real deal, I’m afraid.”

“That’s usually how it goes. How much of it’s true?”

“A surprising amount. Honestly, I don’t even remember most of it. I’ve been told head injuries can be like that, though. I might remember things later, but I probably won’t. Morphine didn’t help, either.”

“I was hoping the report I heard about your wife trying to bash your head in with a rock wasn’t true.”

“I’m a hardheaded son of a bitch, which worked in my favor. You don’t even want to know the sort of headaches I’ve had.” That much, at least, was true, and I grimaced at the memory of how much my skull had throbbed. “Did they settle with a conspiracy theory people will actually believe?”

Kevin grimaced. “The most plausible version I’ve heard is you were filing for a divorce, she found out about it, and decided to try to cash in on your life insurance policy using a rock.”

“Plausible because it’s true,” I said, opening the folder to have a look at the papers Kevin had drawn up. “The weekend vacation was a last ditch effort on my part. I was going to have the papers served afterwards if we couldn’t work things out. Ironically, I didn’t even get a chance to try to work things out with her.”

“Ouch.”

“My skull agrees with you. So that’s the story of how I almost lost my head and just about ended up with my brains scattered over New York State. And no, I hadn’t told her I was filing for a divorce.”

Holding his hands up in surrender, Kevin shook his head. “I believe you. You’re one of the smartest attorneys I know. You wouldn’t have made a stupid mistake like that.”

“Oh, I’ve made mistakes,” I admitted in a grumble. Sighing, I flipped through the sheets, deciding to start looking at potential new homes rather than dealing with the one I wanted to cut out of my life. “The biggest one of all was quietly dealing with her shit for years hoping she’d go back to the nice woman I had married.”

“I hear you. Lord knows I hear you. Sometimes we can do it all right and still get screwed with a stick at the end of the day.”

“Truer words haven’t been spoken. So, what do you have for me?”

Kevin took my shift of the conversation in stride, grinning at me with boyish enthusiasm. “The pages stapled together are listings equivalent to your home in similar areas. I’ve highlighted the lowest and the highest sales so you can make an educated decision on your starting price for the house. The loose listings are properties I thought looked interesting. Get a feel for what’s out there and make yourself a wish list of the types of things you want in a home.”

I nodded, hunting down the stapled set of listings. My home’s actual value hadn’t been too big of a concern for me. The property assessments went into my files without a second thought. I whistled as the increased value sank in.

Even if I lowballed the starting sales price, my home had more than doubled in value. “Okay, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Like those numbers, do you?”

“I bought for less than half, Kevin.”

“You made a good investment, then.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Start in the middle to upper end. The price tag will entice buyers for certain. You have good curb appeal and you’ve taken good care of the house. Should be an easy sale.”

“Make it so,” I said, tossing the stapled sheets down on the folder. While I leafed through the individual listings, Kevin grabbed the rest of the papers and went to work filling out the forms. We ate while discussing homes, although my attention wandered.

My wolf had ideas of what he wanted in a den. I had ideas on what I wanted, too. My cheetah didn’t care, as long as there was a place we could run. Yard space came at a premium anywhere near Los Angeles, which left me wondering how far I’d be willing to drive to work in exchange for space.

“You have kids, Kevin,” I muttered, looking through the listings again.

“Traditionally, men don’t just start thinking about kids right after they ditch the crazy wife, Sean.”

I laughed because it was true. “Oh, I’ve been thinking about kids a long time. That’s why I filed for divorce.”

“So you want a house good for children? Shouldn’t you find a woman first?”

“I’ll get around to it. Worst case, I sell the new house to find something she likes, too.”

“Okay, kids. That eliminates most of these places. They’re nice houses, but they’re not nice houses for kids.” Kevin reached across the table and grabbed one of the sheets. “This is the best of the lot if you’re after the whole white picket fence and kids image.”

The two story house was similar to the place I was selling with a few important differences. First, it had a pool. Second, it had a fully fenced in yard. “When can we go have a look at it?”

Kevin was like me in a lot of ways. While he could have waited to call the selling agent, instead he grabbed his phone and dialed, drumming his fingers on the table. “Hello. I’m Kevin Weston. My client is interested in one of your properties and would like to come have a look.”

I listened to Kevin discuss the property with the agent before he hung up, clucking his tongue.

“That doesn’t sound promising.”

“He’s got an offer on the place, but it might fall through. Mortgage issues,” my former client and current real estate agent muttered, shaking his head and sighing. “He’s willing to do a tour tomorrow morning, however.”

“Tomorrow works for me. What time?”

“Bright and early at seven, right after the owners leave for work.”

“I’ll meet you there.” If it sold, I didn’t care. The first steps were the hardest, and I had no intention of getting cold feet.

“What’s your schedule looking like for tomorrow?”

“Wide open.”

Kevin grinned. “Instead of meeting me there, why don’t I pick you up at six? We’ll make a day of it and take a look at a bunch of places to get your feet wet.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

If I was too busy looking at houses, I wouldn’t spend the time worrying about anything else. I could deal with my house for one more night, then I’d figure out where to stay.

I didn’t end up looking over old news reports. Six in the morning came early, and despite having eaten a normal-sized dinner at the restaurant, I was starved and ended up pillaging the pantry to satisfy my spirit beasts and their voracious appetites.

I couldn’t bring myself to sleep in my own bed, surrounded by Idette’s scent. The couch wasn’t much better, but it wasn’t as oppressive. After a fitful sleep, I was determined I wouldn’t spend another night in the house come hell or high water.

It was raining when Kevin pulled into my driveway. I didn’t bother with an umbrella, enjoying the slight chill in the early morning light. While tempted to whistle and splash through the puddles along my sidewalk, I took my time, limping from the stiffness still plaguing my leg.

“Who would have thought I should have checked the weather last night?” Kevin asked when I hopped into his SUV. “I have five viewings booked for us with a potential sixth if the agent can get back to me in time. Back to back viewings until two in the afternoon.”

“Damn, you’re almost as efficient as I am,” I said, buckling in. “Sounds like a good time.”

“I even had the foresight to bring offer forms if something caught your attention. I also compiled a list of mortgage brokers for you to review.”

“It’s like you do this for a living or something, Kevin.”

“That’s one thing I always liked about you. You’re going to give lawyers a bad reputation if you keep acting like you have a sense of humor. I still remember the first time you met with me. I had heard of your reputation of being a defense lawyer’s worst nightmare in court, but everyone had neglected to warn me you’d come into the conference room humming the Jaws theme.”

“You looked like a diver in a shark cage waiting to get bit. It seemed appropriate at the time.”

“You made it a lot easier than I thought it would be.”

“Part of the job, just like part of your job is dealing with pretentious lawyers who are house hunting.”

“Let’s just hope I have mind reading abilities—or seeing some of these houses helps you figure out what sort of place you’re looking for.”

Joking with Kevin was a little bit like navigating my way through a trial. Every word mattered, and if I wanted to maintain my role as a man primed for a finalized divorce and moving on with life, I needed to play my part. “While you’re at it, do you think you can use your mind reading magic to see what sort of nice woman is in my future?”