Page 18 of Ruffled Feathers

“I need you to come down to my office today. I’ve got a meeting with the assistant DA, and I was hoping you’d come with me—maybe give him that look, like butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth, and convince Strat to change his mind about prosecuting you.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Strat Wilmington?” There couldn’t be that many men named Strat, even in the South. “I was friends with his little sister Elizabeth before she moved to California.” Elizabeth Wilmington was beautiful. An all-American kind of beautiful, like a doll with a perfect heart-shaped face, a button nose, and dazzling blue eyes.

But she listened to metalcore music and hated the world, high school, her parents, and anything to do with high society. We’d bonded immediately, outcasts of the upper class. No one had been more surprised than me when she’d designated early as an Omega, then immediately ran away to California to be a model.

While I’d never out her, I was fairly sure she was gay. It was part of why she’d rebelled so hard. If being poor and from the sticks was a reason to be ridiculed, being a lesbian and an Omega would have been abhorrent to the society matrons. She’d been expected to marry young, produce blue-blooded Alphas, and live miserably ever after, just like they had.

I was glad she’d gotten out.

Truett grumbled. “Yes, that Strat. He prosecutes for the district attorney’s office now, and he’s got the animal cruelty case.”

Well, that was a relief. I’d met Strat a couple of times during my friendship with Elizabeth. He was around the same age as Sonny and Truett, but they’d gone to different private schools. Elizabeth had been kicked out of that school for smoking in the bathrooms, which was a well-kept secret. Publically, her parents had just suggested that the new school was better suited to her ambitions. Her ambition had once been to overthrow a government, so I wasn’t quite sure how another snooty private school would have helped that.

Either way, I’d found Strat to be nice. Elizabeth had adored him, and she’d tended to hate everyone else, and even barely tolerated me, so if that wasn’t an excellent reference, nothing was. He’d been polite and welcoming, basically the exact opposite of his parents.

I knew he’d gone on to become a lawyer, but half our graduating class had gone on to be a lawyer, or business consultant, or a banker. Some big-money bullshit that was generational, rather than earned.

What I hadn’t realized was that he knew Truett, or that they operated in the same circles. I hadn’t spoken to Elizabeth in far too long. I made a mental note to catch up with her, maybe send her a message.

“Well, that’s good news. He must know I’m not out here killing chickens for fun. So why do you sound like someone just pissed in your Wheaties, True?”

He growled down the phone line, and the noise made something tighten low in my abdomen. I squashed down the feeling. I was only allowed one inappropriate crush, and right now, I was pushing my luck with Lancelot. And Sonny.

Who was I fucking kidding? Truett had been a frequent star in my dirty dreams for a long time, not that I’d ever admit it to him or anyone else. Ever.

“I just don’t like the guy, that’s all.”

Hmm.I had a suspicion that it was more than that, but Truett was a surly bastard, so maybe it was that Strat rubbed him the wrong way.

“Can you make it?”

I looked at the cheesecake box, knowing it would be a giant waste of time to go all the way home to put it in the fridge, only to trek back down the freeway again. “Fine.”

Twenty-five minutes later, we stood outside the DA’s office downtown. Truett was dressed in a beautifully tailored three-piece suit that made him look delectable, if it wasn’t for the scowl on his face.

“If you aren’t careful, the wind will change, and your face will look like a cat’s butthole forever,” I teased him lightly. “You don’t have the personality to pull off a butthole mouth and still get laid.”

Giving me an annoyed look, he gently nudged me into the foyer and past the security desk. The guard eyed the box of cheesecake suspiciously, but seemed to decide it wasn’t anything nefarious.

Jabbing the button for the elevator, Truett looked at the box with annoyance. “I can’t believe you brought a fucking cheesecake to a meeting with the person who literally wants to put you in jail.”

I shrugged. “Citrine said it was polite to bring a gift anywhere you go.” I didn’t add that the whole thing had originally been for me. Better he thought I was just embracing Southern hospitality. His expression said he knew I was full of shit, but fortunately, I was saved by the elevator doors opening.

There was a reception desk, the assistant behind it a stunning redhead. She gave us a bright smile, her eyes lingering on Truett. “Mr. Heathstone, welcome. Mr. Wilmington will be with you shortly. Can I get either of you coffee, water?”

I shook my head, though she wasn’t even looking at me. Truett gave her his most charming smile, the one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “No, thank you. We’ll wait over here for Wilmington.” With light fingers on my spine, he directed me toward the leather couches that were too low and hard to be even remotely comfortable. Taking the cheesecake from my hands, he rested it on his own lap. “I understand that you know Strat, but please, let me do the talking. Don’t mention anything incriminating. If he asks you a direct question, try and keep your answers as vague as possible.”

I rolled my eyes. I’d do my best, though. I wanted this to all be over just as much as he did, if not more. It was my criminal record on the line, which could affect my plans for the future. My dreams of my own farm, where I could take as many animals as I could. Where I could finally put my connections to good use for once.

Finally, Strat appeared, the look on his face warm but professional. He was handsome, his blue eyes almost mirthful. Didn’t seem very lawyer-ish, but Truett was my baseline, and he was a surly bastard at the best of times.

“Truett, come on in. Bring your client.”

Maybe Strat didn’t remember me after all. He led us through the spacious hallways, filled with bland art and beige carpet that must’ve been a nightmare for the janitorial staff. Finally, we reached an office with Strat’s name on the door, and he indicated we should enter.

“Please, grab a seat.” Shutting the door, his smile got wider. “When I saw the name in the case files, I thought there was no way this could be the same girl who was friends with my littlesister, but how many Otillie-James Balers could there be in the world?”

Truett raised a brow. “If we’re lucky, only one.” He pulled out the file from his briefcase. “Let’s get down to business?—”

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