In Your Corner by Sarah Castille Page B

perversely safe. Like I’m all rolled up in my comforter in my cozy bed. And safe makes me brave.
    Jake’s steely gaze flicks from me to the bouncer and then back to me. “What’s going on?”
    “Something from Hellhole is attached to my ponytail.” I shake my head and the bouncer stupidly tightens his grip.
    Jake stiffens and his lips curl, baring his teeth. “Let her go.”
    The five fighters move forward as one. The bouncer takes a step back, one hand on my ponytail, the other on my shoulder, holding me like a protective shield. Fighters forward. Bouncer back. Fighters forward. Bouncer back. Fighters growl. Bouncer whimpers.
    “Maybe we should ask them what they’re doing here first.” I hold up my hands, palms forward as if I could stop the tidal wave of testosterone bearing down on us.
    Jake grunts. “Fight first. Ask questions later.”
    The bouncer releases me with a barely audible whimper and my ponytail swings free.
    “You got something to say?” I look over at Bob. “Better say it fast or I guarantee you won’t get another chance. Renegade doesn’t give a damn about the law.”
    Brave now that his hand is within inches of the door, Bob snarls, “We’re gonna fucking sue their asses. We got a doctor who says we’ll never work again. We got a lawyer who got their names from the police report and said we got a ten-million-dollar claim. Told us to bring these docs and hand ’em out.”
    Fighters fall back with a collective whimper. Apparently nothing is more terrifying than a lawsuit.
    “Unbelievable.” My hands find my hips. “Are you kidding me?”
    Emboldened by the fighters’ collective terror, Bob takes a step forward and waves some documents in the air, but at waist height and awkwardly because of the cast. The fighters cringe and shrink back as if they were made of Kryptonite.
    Oh for…
    “Give me those.” I stalk over to Bob, stopping only a foot away and acutely aware that Jake is now hovering by my side.
    “Easy, baby.” He rests a hand on my shoulder when I snatch the documents away. Only then do I take note of my heaving chest and my tight jaw. Hell hath no fury like a woman whose friends are being threatened with a totally bogus lawsuit by gold diggers with no conscience, even less sense, and a terrible attorney. After giving the documents a cursory glance, I roll my eyes.
    “First,” I spit out, “since you are involved in the proceedings, you can’t serve legal documents. So…bad legal advice right there. Second, in case you didn’t notice, you were engaged in criminal activity when you broke your arms, if they are really even broken, which I totally doubt. Third, this”—I wave one of the documents at Bob—“is not a proper lawsuit. Again, bad legal advice, or maybe you thought you’d just come over here with a pretend lawsuit and try and shake my friends down. Not gonna happen. Finally, I just may decide to file a civil lawsuit against you for smacking me around like a rag doll, so you may actually want to find yourself a good attorney for that and your criminal trial.”
    Bob narrows his eyes. “You sound like a fucking attorney. Are you an attorney?”
    My mouth opens and closes. Am I an attorney? I don’t have a job and no chance of finding one, at least not in California.
    “She’s an attorney and a damn good one.” Although Jake’s voice is cool and calm, I can hear the telltale tremor of a man on the edge of losing control. “She worked at one of the biggest law firms in the state and she was one of their best and brightest. She’s damn smart, a crackerjack litigator, and she knows every trick in the book. She’s gonna destroy you.”
    “Yeah.” The fighters punch their fists in the air and cheer as one.
    “Uh…Jake.” Aside from the fact I have no law firm and no insurance, I haven’t even agreed to take on the fighters as clients. But Jake is on a roll.
    “She’ll put you on the stand and carve out every last detail of your sordid lives