I hate myself for it, and I hate my best friend a little too. But then I think about where the choice lies for him. This isn’t just between Jules and me. A baby—his baby—is involved and that fucking muddles everything.
“Don’t know. Ask the father-to-be.”
My head snaps up, and I find several of the guys looking at me.
“Brooks?” Gaige asks. “Jules?”
“She’s good,” I tell Gaige because I’m sure if there were any complications that Kit would let me know. I haven’t spoken to Jules since I left her house after going there to persuade her to tell Kit the truth.
Kit showed up on his own that night, and I just couldn’t stomach my best friend thinking I hooked up with the girl he’s always been in love with. The full truth didn’t come out though, and that’s left me in this fucked place where everyone but the three of us thinks I betrayed my best friend.
“And the baby?” Gaige prods when I don’t offer more information.
I look to Kit, hating that the topic of the baby is brought up, and he doesn’t take the opportunity to tell everyone the truth.
“Growing,” I answer.
Kit swallows, and it makes me realize that maybe I was wrong thinking that they’re secretly together.
He doesn’t look happy at all.
My phone chimes with an alert, and I’m grateful for the distraction. It keeps me from opening my mouth and spilling the truth. Archer was right when he guessed that Jules threatened to out me. It’s what she said right here in this very room. I know she was scared. I also know she would never do it, but it made me lose all fucking faith in the woman. I doubt I’ll ever forgive her.
“Fuck,” I mutter as I look down at my phone. I stand from the sofa, cracking my neck in irritation.
“Problem?” Jude asks.
“Fucking Archer Bremen,” I snap.
“I thought you were done working that case,” Jude says.
He must’ve picked up on that news through conversation in the office because I haven’t spoken to him about it.
“Didn’t he hire a new firm?” Jude asks when I don’t speak to him.
I continue to read the article published about the rock star. I set alerts on my phone from the only news outlet that doesn’t post about celebrity shit unless it’s serious. It hasn’t stopped me from spending some of my time searching for related articles about the man, however.
“He got arrested last night,” I mutter, torn on what I should do.
“Need my help?” Quinten asks.
He’s the fixer for Blackbridge Security, and he probably would’ve already solved all of Archer’s problems if he had been given the case instead of me.
“Or me?” Gaige offers. He’s an attorney and is usually the one to get involved with all clients who have legal troubles. “He’ll need an attorney.”
I’m surprised any of them are offering to help, considering the man they all think I am.
“I got it,” I tell them, heading to the elevator, pissed off at the man for putting himself in this situation to begin with.
I should let either one of them help, but I haven’t seen the man in person in weeks, and I’m itching to get my eyes on him.
I watch videos posted of him online from last night, hating to see him stumbling on a sidewalk and yelling at the bouncer who just booted him from a popular club.
I’ve seen it over and over by the time I make it to SUV.
I close out that internet window and call Wren.
“You could’ve given me a heads-up,” I snap the second the call connects.
“You’re no longer working the Bremen case. I didn’t figure it was relevant.”
If I were in the office, I’d strangle the man.
“Is he home?” I ask instead, deciding to take my pound of flesh from the IT specialist at a later time.
“He’s still in jail.”
“On a fucking public intox charge?”
“As far as I can see from minimal research online, he’s refused to call anyone to post bail for him.”
I get the precinct information from Wren before hanging up and heading in that direction.
I decide on the drive over that I’m done with Archer Bremen after this. I’ll turn off all alerts on my phone and I’ll just move on. It may take months, but eventually, I’ll be able to forget the man exists.
Chapter 30
Archer
How sad is it that I’m sitting in a holding cell with fifteen other men, and I’m comfortable?
I’m not physically comfortable because there’s never a time when sitting on cold concrete for hours on end is luxurious.
What’s pleasant about this situation is the fact that no one gives a shit about who I am. All of these men have their own problems to deal with. They couldn’t care less that a rock star is sitting in here with them. Hell, I think there’s only one guy in here who even recognizes me. It gives me the opportunity to be around people without having to be Archer Bremen. I’m just another dude down on his luck.