Page 9 of Barristers & Bones

“As I’ll ever be. What are we doing this morning?” My insatiable curiosity got the better of me. I loved to learn new things, and my mind never rested. That flaw had almost cost me my life.

“Breakfast and business,” he answered.

“That really narrows it down, thank you.”

He glanced down at our coffee table stacked with an array of law books, nonfiction books, novels, and even an embalmer trade magazine. He picked up a true crime novel and thumbed through it.

“Most of the books in this house are Luna’s,” Alexa murmured from behind her computer screen.

His lip tipped up. “Good to know.”

“She’s smart. Don’t underestimate her.”

“Also good to know.” He glanced at Alexa, then turned to me. “Shall we?”

He owned an expensive, sleek black Mercedes, which didn’t surprise me at all. We drove in silence to a private golf course so exclusive that the air reeked of money and privilege. My father and grandfather belonged to a similar country club in Phoenix. A host ushered us to a quiet restaurant overlooking manicured greens, the sunlight glinting off distant ponds.

“Where the entitled, rich male class goes to do business,” I muttered, observing the crystal chandeliers and servers in vests and ties.

Roman checked his watch. “Mr. Hutton should be here shortly.”

He called a server over to order scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit for the table, asked for three plates, and then poured coffee. “This way we don’t have to wait for Mr. Hutton to order.” He leaned back. “He’s known for two things–being drunk and being late.”

I poured a splash of cream into my coffee. “Who's Mr. Hutton and what’s your role here?"

“Todd Hutton is a commercial real estate developer. His father is the brains behind their company, and they’re known for greasing palms and twisting arms to close deals. He's interested in selling my client some very expensive commercial land in south Las Vegas.”

“Are you on a fact-finding mission, writing up the contract, or reviewing an existing contract?"

He’d picked up his coffee to take a sip but paused and glanced at me. “Due diligence. We’re looking for any legal or development issues, then we’ll draft a contract if our client is still interested.”

Todd Hutton arrived ten minutes later. He wore an expensive golf shirt stretched over a big beer belly. Standing next to Roman, Todd appeared bloated and soft.

“This is Luna Cross, my intern.”

I reached over and held out my hand. “Hello. It’s nice to meet you.”

Todd’s smile turned to a subtle leer, and his handshake was weak and soggy. “You’re the hottest law student I’ve ever met.” He glanced at Roman and grinned knowingly. “I ordered a whiskey neat. Do you want anything?”

I mentally winced–it wasn’t even nine in the morning. Roman shook his head and gestured to a seat at the table.

Tom sat, got his drink, and they exchanged pleasantries before discussing the property. I sipped coffee, dished up some fruit and toast, and listened as the two men talked about acres, zoning, and potential profits.

Then I heard Todd mutter something about utility hookups and water, and I sat up straight. “Mr. Hutton, how many water shares does the property have? Is there water already available at the site?” I’d caught both men off guard, but I knew enough about water and water law, and we lived in a desert.

Roman shot me a sharp look, the edge of his mouth quirking in what could either be amusement or annoyance. I didn’t know him well enough yet to tell.

Todd Hutton faltered for a fraction of a second, a crack in his overly confident, swaggering veneer. “I’m sure there’s water available.”

“Ms. Cross brings up a good point. We need that information on all the utilities, and already requested that information.”

“Of course,” Hutton muttered, glaring at me.

His upper lip broke out in a sweat, which was never a good sign. At that point, Roman smoothly cut the rest of the meeting short, paid the check, and stood. The restaurant had filled up since we walked in, and Roman paused slightly and glanced at a few men sitting nearby. He placed his hand on the small of my back as we walked out.

I didn’t like men touching me in public when they had no right to. But I paused before stepping away from his touch. “Is there a reason you’re suddenly crowding me?” I murmured in a low voice.

“The three men sitting at the table we just passed are vicious, degenerate assholes, and I wanted them to know that you’re with me. They sometimes target women.”

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