Deliciously Damaged (Reckless Bastards MC 3)

“Speaking of,” Angela interjected. “What is going on with all that?”

I took in a deep breath. I was beginning to abhor talking about the trial and I knew we’d spend the whole afternoon talking of little else, which made me even more resistant to talk about it with Angela—but I knew I had to. As my sister, she had the right to know. “We’re meeting with my legal team this afternoon.” I pushed back the sleeve of my navy blue suit jacket to check the platinum watch on my wrist. “In about an hour, actually. This is kind of a drive-by visit.” I smiled apologetically at Angela.

“Then I guess I’d better get the frittata in the oven!” She didn’t wait for a response before crossing the kitchen and busying herself at the fridge. I smiled as she worked.

Although her acting career had stalled while she went through treatment, Angela had already made more money in the five years she’d been working in Hollywood than mos

t people made in a lifetime. She could’ve hired a private chef, or at the very least bought something premade, but that wasn’t how she was. Angela had always loved cooking and baking, and it was the only other thing I could imagine her doing besides TV and movies. If not for her acting career, she could’ve easily been a chef or caterer. In fact, it was an idea I’d been tossing around in my mind since her prognosis had improved. She hadn’t talked much about going back to acting, but the last time I’d been over to visit, I’d seen a stack of scripts on the coffee table. I trusted her judgment, but as her older brother, I needed to give her my opinion. As I watched her glide around the kitchen, I couldn’t help but think she might be better off turning her career ambitions into something that didn’t require sixteen hour days on a movie set.

Angela caught me staring and prompted me with a rolling hand gesture, “Keep talking,” she said, before turning back to press some buttons on the control panel above the double ovens. “Apparently we’re on a countdown timer here.”

Allie took a deliberate sip of her coffee, her silent way of letting me know that she’d bowed out.

“There’s not a whole lot to tell. At the moment, we’re still trying to decide if we want to press charges against this Clay character,” I continued.

Angela stopped working for a moment and cocked a brow at me. “Isn’t that kind of a no-brainer? I mean, the guy tried to sabotage your entire company.”

“True, but it isn’t quite that simple,” I answered quietly. I looked over at Allie, and felt the now familiar press of guilt tighten its grip on my stomach. If something happened to her…I blinked away the thought, telling myself it would be fine. It had to be.

Angela shot me another confused glance, and I continued, “In a nutshell, I had Allie do some hacking while she was working on the Plush account, and it’s possible that it would be brought up during the trial.”

If Angela was surprised, she did a hell of a job masking it. She simply nodded her understanding and came over to join us at the island quietly, as she stirred a splash of cream into her own cup of coffee.

For a few minutes, we sat, sipping on coffee and turning over our own thoughts, no one eager to add to the conversation. I was just about to ask Angela about her most recent doctor appointment, when the oven timer interrupted the silence, and she hurried to pull the bubbling frittata out. “Mmm.” She poked at the top with a fork. “Looks good, I have everything set up on the deck.”

Allie jumped up and smiled sweetly at me as I snagged her coffee mug and headed for the expansive deck off the kitchen where Angela had laid out the patio table with blue and rust colored plates and bowls filled with fresh fruit and a large platter of toast. I followed the girls outside where the tension of the previous conversation melted away in the hot LA sun.

Chapter Two — Allie

“Mr. Brighton, Ms. Rand, Mr. Peters is ready to see you.”

Those were the words I’d been waiting to hear for the last two weeks, but as Cooper started to rise from his seat next to me, my fingers gripped his arm with a sudden surge of terror. Mr. Peters’ assistant was standing in the doorway, her hands politely folded in front of her as she considered us. Justin Peters was one of California’s top lawyers, and had come with a high recommendation from Cooper’s family lawyer to handle our case.

It had been nearly three months since the night in Cooper’s office where I’d discovered the hacker that had nearly taken down Brighton Enterprises. Then, the next day, I found out not only the identity of the hacker, but that it was Clay, the boyfriend of my once-upon-a-time friend, Bryce, who actually turned out to be not a friend after all…

I still wasn’t over it. The experience had called into question the level of trust I’d gave anyone, and at times, I was gripped with a paralyzing fear that made me draw further into myself. I was beginning to feel the same as I had after my nasty breakup with my evil ex-boyfriend, Marx. All those same thoughts, doubts, and insecurities had been drawn out, and everything I’d stuffed away—insisting I’d deal with later— was now staring back at me in the face.

It hadn’t helped that the months following the event had been filled with private investigators, consultants, and tech gurus who Cooper had hired to collect evidence and bring everything together so when we went to Cooper’s lawyer, we had everything they needed in order to build a solid case against Clay and my so-called friend, Bryce. The invasive questions, interviews, and skepticism had only made me more stressed and withdrawn. We’d been waiting for this meeting for weeks, ready to get all the cards on the table, make our decision and move on with our life.

The only thing left to do was tell the other side of the story.

My side.

That was the part that had my heart racing, foot tapping, and my fingernails digging into the thick sleeve of Cooper’s jacket. He slid his hand under mine, loosening my grip, and folding his fingers around mine. “It’s all right, baby. Come on,” he whispered into my ear. His voice sounded calm and confident, like it always did, and I let his strength seep into me as we followed the assistant into an empty office space.

The assistant deposited us in a large conference room that was lined with floor to ceiling windows that flooded the room with light and gave a breathtaking view of the city. Cooper pulled out a chair for me and squeezed my hand before I sat down.

“Mr. Peters will be right in. Can I get you anything to drink? Espresso? Tea?” the assistant asked.

“Water is fine,” Cooper answered before taking his seat next to mine. The assistant smiled and scurried off, leaving us alone in the room. Once the door was closed softly, Cooper turned to me and ran a hand down the side of my face. “Whatever you want to do, that’s what we will do. You don’t have to do anything, or say anything that will make you uncomfortable. I don’t want you to worry.”

I smiled and relaxed against Cooper’s hand. “Thank you.”

His words meant more to me than I could fully express and made me feel even guiltier about the fact that I was holding back from him. But, there were parts of the story he still didn’t know, and although some nagging in the back of my mind told me I should fill him in, I hadn’t quite drummed up the courage to do it yet.

Moments later, a man in a navy blue pinstripe suit burst into the room. “Good afternoon. Let’s get right down to the brass tacks here,” he started, sitting behind his desk. I could feel Cooper bristle beside me at the man’s brash mannerisms, but he kept his face impassive and cool. “I’ve read everything from the investigators and I think you have a solid case. The question is, what do you want to do? Is this about money? Data? What do you want?”

“I couldn’t care less about the money, Mr. Peters. The only reason I am pursuing this is to make sure it doesn’t happen again. I want justice served for what this man tried to do to my company,” Cooper explained.