wrong?"
Not waiting for an invitation, Marcy swept past him and into his apartment. "Quinn's in trouble. He wants us in Nashville by tomorrow."
"What kind of trouble?" Aaron asked.
"That Lulu Vanderley he was going to Nashville to see got herself murdered last night." Jace closed the door and came inside behind Marcy.
"You're shitting me?"
"Quinn found her body," Marcy said. "So you know what that means."
"He's a suspect," Aaron replied.
"He didn't do it. He didn't kill her," Jace said emphatically. "The boss would never murder anybody."
"Yeah, you're right, he wouldn't," Aaron agreed. "But I'll bet there are a lot of people who're getting a big laugh out of this. The most famous criminal lawyer in the country, who's gotten dozens of accused murderers acquitted might get charged with murder himself."
"They can't arrest Quinn for murder." Jace's cheeks flushed with emotion. "We gotta do whatever we can to help him."
Sometimes Aaron found it amusing the way Jace hero-worshiped Quinn. But then the kid owed Quinn a lot, didn't he, even more than he and Marcy did? They were all three misfits, kids who'd been in trouble, heading for a life of crime. Marcy had been abused by her father and wound up on the streets, ready to turn tricks at sixteen. A cheerleader-type blonde with big brown eyes, she could have made a fortune as a prostitute. Her salvation had been that the first guy she'd approached on her first night on the job turned out to be Quinn Cortez, a real crusader for kids in trouble. He'd gotten her placed in a good foster home, helped her attend junior college and then hired her as his personal assistant.
Aaron's story wasn't much different, except he'd wound up at the Judge Harwood Brown Boys' Ranch, a place built and run by Quinn and several other guys who'd been boys in trouble themselves way back when and had been saved by old Judge Brown. When Aaron turned eighteen, Quinn had encouraged him to go to college, but he'd known college wasn't for him. He wasn't stupid but he was no Einstein either. He made Quinn understand that he didn't have the smarts for college. He'd been working for Quinn as his chauffeur and all-around gofer ever since. The pay was good the benefits great.
Jace , another Judge Harwood Brown Boys' Ranch alumnus, had been working for Quinn for the past year. He was a pretty kid with hazel eyes and curly sandy brown hair that he kept short to control the curls, but Jace's story wasn't a pretty one. He'd admitted that he had been molested by a priest when he was twelve, which had screwed him up pretty bad. And it didn't help that he'd grown up without a dad and had lost his mother, too, only a couple of years ago.
"I've booked us flights for tomorrow morning," Marcy said. "And I've lined up a four-bedroom house and a rental car. I'm hoping the police will clear this up pretty quickly and we can all head home in a few days, but—"
"Aaron, who was at the door?" Wearing only his rumpled shirt, Gala stopped dead still in the doorway between the bedroom and living room. "Oops. Sorry."
"We . . . er . . . we were just leaving." Marcy started backing toward the door.
"Don't leave on my account," Gala said. "Stick around. I was just going to order pizza."
Marcy looked directly at Aaron. " Jace will pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning. Be ready."
"No problem," Aaron told her.
"Quinn's counting on us, man," Jace said eyeing Gala disapprovingly. "We can't let him down."
"I get it, okay," Aaron said. "I'll be ready to go at eight-thirty in the morning."
As much as Aaron admired and respected Quinn, he wasn't in love with the guy like Marcy was nor did he worship the man the way Jace did. But he'd cut off his right arm before he'd let Quinn down.
"Let's look at this rationally," Griffin Powell said. "I can't take on each of you individually as clients for obvious reasons, even if I assigned one of my employees to handle the case for one of you. However, if you two could work together,
Not waiting for an invitation, Marcy swept past him and into his apartment. "Quinn's in trouble. He wants us in Nashville by tomorrow."
"What kind of trouble?" Aaron asked.
"That Lulu Vanderley he was going to Nashville to see got herself murdered last night." Jace closed the door and came inside behind Marcy.
"You're shitting me?"
"Quinn found her body," Marcy said. "So you know what that means."
"He's a suspect," Aaron replied.
"He didn't do it. He didn't kill her," Jace said emphatically. "The boss would never murder anybody."
"Yeah, you're right, he wouldn't," Aaron agreed. "But I'll bet there are a lot of people who're getting a big laugh out of this. The most famous criminal lawyer in the country, who's gotten dozens of accused murderers acquitted might get charged with murder himself."
"They can't arrest Quinn for murder." Jace's cheeks flushed with emotion. "We gotta do whatever we can to help him."
Sometimes Aaron found it amusing the way Jace hero-worshiped Quinn. But then the kid owed Quinn a lot, didn't he, even more than he and Marcy did? They were all three misfits, kids who'd been in trouble, heading for a life of crime. Marcy had been abused by her father and wound up on the streets, ready to turn tricks at sixteen. A cheerleader-type blonde with big brown eyes, she could have made a fortune as a prostitute. Her salvation had been that the first guy she'd approached on her first night on the job turned out to be Quinn Cortez, a real crusader for kids in trouble. He'd gotten her placed in a good foster home, helped her attend junior college and then hired her as his personal assistant.
Aaron's story wasn't much different, except he'd wound up at the Judge Harwood Brown Boys' Ranch, a place built and run by Quinn and several other guys who'd been boys in trouble themselves way back when and had been saved by old Judge Brown. When Aaron turned eighteen, Quinn had encouraged him to go to college, but he'd known college wasn't for him. He wasn't stupid but he was no Einstein either. He made Quinn understand that he didn't have the smarts for college. He'd been working for Quinn as his chauffeur and all-around gofer ever since. The pay was good the benefits great.
Jace , another Judge Harwood Brown Boys' Ranch alumnus, had been working for Quinn for the past year. He was a pretty kid with hazel eyes and curly sandy brown hair that he kept short to control the curls, but Jace's story wasn't a pretty one. He'd admitted that he had been molested by a priest when he was twelve, which had screwed him up pretty bad. And it didn't help that he'd grown up without a dad and had lost his mother, too, only a couple of years ago.
"I've booked us flights for tomorrow morning," Marcy said. "And I've lined up a four-bedroom house and a rental car. I'm hoping the police will clear this up pretty quickly and we can all head home in a few days, but—"
"Aaron, who was at the door?" Wearing only his rumpled shirt, Gala stopped dead still in the doorway between the bedroom and living room. "Oops. Sorry."
"We . . . er . . . we were just leaving." Marcy started backing toward the door.
"Don't leave on my account," Gala said. "Stick around. I was just going to order pizza."
Marcy looked directly at Aaron. " Jace will pick you up at eight-thirty in the morning. Be ready."
"No problem," Aaron told her.
"Quinn's counting on us, man," Jace said eyeing Gala disapprovingly. "We can't let him down."
"I get it, okay," Aaron said. "I'll be ready to go at eight-thirty in the morning."
As much as Aaron admired and respected Quinn, he wasn't in love with the guy like Marcy was nor did he worship the man the way Jace did. But he'd cut off his right arm before he'd let Quinn down.
"Let's look at this rationally," Griffin Powell said. "I can't take on each of you individually as clients for obvious reasons, even if I assigned one of my employees to handle the case for one of you. However, if you two could work together,
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