Compass (Second Chances 1)
“I’m working on that.” His gaze drops to his phone. “I told you when you first came to see me that I would put everything I had into reuniting you with Kristin. Nothing’s changed.”
I hired Dylan to help me navigate the muddy waters of Kristin’s custody because he’s the best divorce attorney in Manhattan.
Even though Madison and I never married, it doesn’t make our situation any less complicated.
In fact, it’s fucking complex. Every minute that passes is another moment in time that I don’t get to share with my daughter.
Dylan tugs on the lapels of his gray suit jacket. The guy invests a small fortune in his wardrobe. His black hair is cut with precision. He’s what you’d expect a textbook version of an attorney to look like.
His tactics are cutthroat though which is why I sought him out after a regular at the bar sung his praises. She told me that Dylan had accomplished something that the three attorneys she’d hired before him couldn’t. Dylan got her shared custody of her kids after two judges had ruled she’d have no visitation.
He’s a miracle worker. I’m counting on him using those skills to get me face-to-face with Kristin.
“Tell me about the old flame.” He takes a pull of beer. “I take it that it’s Katie you kissed?”
Her name came up one night when Dylan and I took to the pool table. A few good shots with the pool cue and even more of tequila got me loosened up enough that story-after-story about Katie poured out of me.
Dylan listened and then mentioned a girl he met in high school. He didn’t expand on that. I didn’t push.
I’ve only known him a few months, but I’ve watched him strike up conversations with women when he’s been here at the bar. He has a type; light brown hair, blue eyes, pretty and petite. He’s left with every woman he’s bought a drink for.
Tonight, he’s more focused on the imported bottle of beer in his hand than any of the women looking in his direction.
“We met for coffee. Things progressed from there.” I keep the details to a minimum.
I haven’t told Dylan that Katie lives in Manhattan. He put those pieces together himself when he overheard me mentioning her to Myles one night last week.
Myles parked himself on a stool next to Dylan and promptly asked if I’d gotten Katie back into bed yet. I told him to go to hell, he laughed and ordered a scotch. Dylan got up to take a call.
As if on cue, his phone rings.
“Fuck.” He hangs his head. “It’s too late for this shit.”
I huff out a laugh. “When I handed over my retainer to you, you told me you were available day and night. Some people take that literally.”
“Thanks for not being one of them.” His gaze drops to the phone’s screen. “It’s a client. She’s under the impression she can pay me in blow jobs.”
I shake my head. I’ve heard it before. He’s got more than a few stories to tell of recently divorced women throwing their naked selves at his feet in his office.
“You’re not answering that?” I tilt my chin toward his phone.
“I don’t fuck clients.” His gaze wanders to the end of the bar where a woman with light brown hair is sipping from a glass filled with vodka and cranberry juice.
“You have no problem fucking my customers,” I point out as his phone quiets.
He tosses the woman a smile. “Not tonight. I’m due in court bright and early. I’m heading back to my office to prep.”
“You’ll keep me updated on my case?” I ask as I clear his empty bottle from the bar top.
“The second I have news, I’ll call.” Standing, he opens his wallet and drops a twenty dollar bill on the bar. “I’m not giving up, Gage. You sure as hell better not.”
“I’ll fight until my dying breath for my little girl.” I exhale harshly. “I’ll never give up on her.”
He stalks toward the door, ignoring the woman at the end of the bar with her eyes pinned on him.
She’s off her stool and trailing him before his foot hits the sidewalk.
My hand dives into the front pocket of my jeans. I tug out my phone and glance at the screen. The only missed message is from Myles.