I sucked in a sharp breath.
Kelton angled his head toward me. “Something wrong?”
“Jade knows the Harts too.” Mallory brushed it off as no big deal.
It wasn’t a big deal for her. She hadn’t been kicked to the curb by one of them.
Kelton deadpanned. “Well, Dillon should be here in a few. I have a call to make. Just buzz me when he arrives.” He ambled back down the hall toward his office.
Mallory grabbed her iPad from the reception counter. “I’ll walk you down to the lobby.”
I was about to probe her on Kelton and how he knew Dillon when the elevator doors opened, and Dillon Hart strutted out. The man hadn’t changed since high school. He was still tall, dark, and handsome. I didn’t see a ring on his finger, but I was sure he didn’t have trouble getting women.
His thick thighs were encased in worn, distressed jeans. A black button-up shirt was stretched over his broad chest. And if that weren’t enough to make women drool, then the three-quarter sleeves he had rolled up showing off a rather large diver’s watch had to set women’s panties on fire.
But I wasn’t into dark hair, dark-eyed men, no matter how delicious Dillon Hart was. My palate salivated for his younger brother—blond, blue-eyed, and a stud in bed.
Stop it, Jade. You’re getting wet and flustered, and Dillon is going to think you like him.
Dillon pinned his dark gaze on me. “Jade Kelly, is that you? Wow.”
My cheeks were burning.
He sized me up and wasn’t in the least bit subtle about it either. “I need to tell Denim.”
Let him tell Denim you look hot. Let Denim suffer knowing how well you’re doing.
On that thought, I lifted my chest. It was a little more than a handful for most men. “It’s nice to see you,” I finally said.
Dillon slipped a hand into his jeans pocket. “Do you work here?”
Mallory gushed with pride. “She’ll be working for Kelton Maxwell.”
Dillon’s dark eyebrows shot up. “For real? You know Kelton is Denim’s lawyer.”
“Is that true?” I asked Mallory.
What’s next? Denim getting out of prison?
The latter couldn’t be true. If I had my math right, Denim wasn’t up for parole for another year or two.
Mallory’s pretty features pinched. “To my knowledge, Denim isn’t a client.”
“Mm,” Dillon said. “Then why is Kelton helping Denim prepare for his parole hearing?”
Nausea sat heavy in my stomach. If I worked for Kelton, I might see Denim. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that. The problem was I needed the job.
3
Denim
Icouldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. The intake of the stale air in the room burned my lungs.
“We thought that might resonate,” Travers said at my back. His deep New England accent came through the derision in his words.
I fisted my hands at my sides. The urge to throttle the FBI agent vibrated in my bones. I didn’t know what bothered me more, his voice or his cocky attitude.
Slowly, I pivoted on my heel, hoping with all hope I could burn him alive with just my glare. “What makes you believe Duke had a hand in the murder?” My muscles were rock-hard as I opened and closed my fists as though I had stress balls in them. I sure as hell could use a fucking stress ball at the moment. But my ire jumped from the agent and splattered on Duke. The brother I’d looked up to since I could walk could have set me up. I blinked, shaking the cobwebs from my brain.
