Her husband had been guilty as hell, and Jax had known it. Hell, everyone had known it. Yet Jax had gotten the man acquitted of embezzling from his wife’s family, a family with known mob connections, so there’d been little sympathy for either side.
Except for the wife. She’d grown up as a pawn, and she’d been married off as a pawn. She’d never known life as anything else. An increasingly disenchanted Jax had known her enough to understand that when this went down, in all likelihood her assets would be confiscated and she’d be left penniless and alone. Unable to live with that, he’d broken attorney-client privilege to warn her, but instead of heeding his advice and taking off for parts unknown, she killed herself.
Forced to face his own part in her self-destruction, not to mention just how ethically indecent he’d become, Jax had quit. His fiancée left him shortly after. Game over. He’d left Seattle without looking back. Alone, unsettled, even angry, he’d somehow ended up back in Lucky Harbor.
The last place he’d been happy.
That had been five years ago. Sawyer had come back to town, as well, and after a wild, misspent youth had become a Lucky Harbor sheriff, of all things. Ford was around, in between sailing ventures that’d included the world-class circuit. The three of them had gravitated together as if they’d never been apart.
His first year back, Jax had lived on Ford’s second sailboat in the marina. He’d practiced a little law here and there, for friends only, and he’d hated it. So he’d gone back to basics, which for him had been building things with his own hands. As he’d worked on getting over himself, he’d designed and built the house he’d always wanted. He did what he could to give back to the community that had welcomed him without question, including somehow, surprisingly, being elected mayor two terms running.
He was jarred out of his musings when his father strode into his office and immediately set Jax on edge with nothing more than his stick-up-his-ass gait and ridiculously expensive suit. They hadn’t spent much time together, mostly because his father was still good and furious over what he saw as Jax’s failure in Seattle.
“Got a case for you.” His father tossed down the file.
This wasn’t surprising. His father often felt the need to manipulate his son’s emotions. Which was ironic, since Jax had been trained by the man himself that emotions and business never mix. Hell, in their little family of two, emotions didn’t even exist. “You haven’t spoken to me since I refused to represent that charming Fortune 500 sex offender you brought me last time. That was three months ago. Now you walk in here like you own the place and toss me yet another case I don’t want. I’m too busy for this, Dad. Jeanne and I have billings to go over-”
“He said I should go home,” Jeanne said softly from the doorway. “I’m done for the day anyway,” she said in silent apology, jerking her head toward his father, indicating that they should try to talk.
Fat chance.
Jax didn’t often feel his temper stir. It took a lot, especially these days, but his father could boil his blood like no other. “Still minding your own business, I see,” he said when Jeanne had left.
“Get over yourself, son. This is a simple, open-and-shut case.”
Everything in Jackson Cullen’s world was open-and-shut-as long as he got his way. “If it’s so simple, you take it.”
“No, they want someone young, an up-and-comer.”
“I’ve up and come. And gone,” Jax reminded him. “Now if you could do the same…” He gestured to the door.
“Jesus Christ, Jax. It’s been five years since you let your job go. You let your fiancée go, too. Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back on the horse.”
Jax shoved the file back across his desk and stood up. “Get out.”
“You’re not listening. Elizabeth Weston is thirty, loaded, beautiful, and her daddy’s going to be the next state governor.”
“Which matters why?”
“She’s looking to settle down. You’ll do.”
He choked out a laugh. “Now you’re whoring me out? Not that this surprises me.”
“What, you’re not seeing anyone, are you?”
Was he? He’d like to say hell, yes, but the facts were simple. He was guessing Maddie’s ex had been an attorney, and a real asshole, to boot. When she learned about Jax’s past, she’d run for the hills. Even if he somehow managed to show her that he’d changed, he doubted she’d understand his morally and emotionally bankrupt history. He wouldn’t expect her to.
Hell, just being a man was a strike against him. She wasn’t in a place to trust any person with a Y chromosome.
“A wife like Elizabeth will be an asset when you take over my practice,” his father said.
“I’ve told you, I’m not taking over your practice.”
“You’re a Cullen. You’re my only son. You have to take over the practice. I spent the past thirty-five years building it for you.”
“You built it for you,” Jax corrected. “Come on, Dad, doesn’t this ever get old? You bullying me, me refusing to be bullied. Hire an associate and be done with it.”
“This is asinine.” Jaw tight, his father scooped up the file and moved stiffly to the door. “No one can disappoint me quite the way you can.”
Ditto. “Dismiss Jeanne or interfere with my work again, and you won’t be welcome back.”
When the front door slammed, Jax picked up a paperweight on his desk and flung it against the wall, where it shattered. There. Marginally better. And it seemed that he and his father had something in common, after all-sometimes Jax disappointed himself, too.
He was still struggling with his own temper when Ford strode into the office and kicked Jax’s feet off his desk. “Get up. Water’s calm. Wind’s kicking. We’re going sailing.”
“Not in the mood.”
“I’m looking for a first mate, not a sex partner. Besides, you need some tranquility.”
Jax slid him a look. “Tranquility? A big word for you, isn’t it?”
“What? The bar’s been slow. I’ve been reading.”
“You didn’t get that word out of Penthouse Forum.”
“Hey, I read other stuff.” He paused. “Sometimes. Now get up. Jeanne’s got the afternoon off, and so do you.”
He looked at the one person who knew his entire sor-did story and didn’t seem to blame Jax for being an ass-hole. “How do you know Jeanne’s got the afternoon off?”
Ford didn’t answer.
“Shit,” Jax said. “She called you.”
“A little bit,” Ford admitted. “She wanted me to give you a hug.”
“Fuck off.”
“Figured you’d say that. Also figured you’d be needing to get out.”
Which is how Jax ended up on the water on Ford’s thirty-two-foot Beneteau. It was late in the year for a leisurely sail. Far too late. Most sailing enthusiasts had long ago winterized their boats, but Ford being Ford, he never let a little thing like winter slow him down. He always thrived on pushing the envelope, and not just in sailing.
They were rewarded by an unexpected cold, hard wind that took their breath and every ounce of questionable talent they owned. The swells rose to nearly eight feet, ensuring that their planned easygoing few hours turned into an all-out work-their-asses-off-fest just to stay alive, much less afloat.
“Christ,” Ford breathed when they’d made it back to the slip. He slumped against the hull, head back. “I sailed the West Indies and nearly died three times. That was nothing compared to this. What were you thinking, letting me take us out there?”
Jax didn’t have the energy to kick Ford’s ass, so he slid down the hull next to him and mirrored his pose, his every muscle quivering with exhaustion and overuse, even his brain. “Forgot what a drama queen you are.”
Ford choked out a laugh. “If I could move, I’d make you eat that statement.”
“You and what army?”
“Fuck you,” Ford said companionably. “And when were you going to tell me about Maddie? I have to hear about some supposedly hot kiss on the pier from Jeanne, who heard it from-”