Your Money's Worth: Seattle Elementals, Book 1 Read online

  How many men had done that, just to get their way?

  Stop thinking those thoughts; it will only make you crazy, I warned myself while lifting a whole chicken from the meat section and placing it in my basket. A baked chicken would get me through two or three days of dinners, if I made chicken and noodles on the third day.

  * * *

  Parke

  Sending Cassie away was hard. Harder than I thought it would be. Yes, I saw the look on her face as she walked through security at the airport.

  The look of abandonment.

  I was responsible for that.

  This way was best, though. If she weren't here, she wouldn't guess that I'd sent Daniel and two others to Mexico the same day, to look for her father.

  He had a laundry list of crimes to answer for; the most important among them was the murder of Cassie's mother and then his selling Cassie to Ross Diablo.

  There were laws in the demon world against those things, just as there were in the human world. The biggest difference in those laws was that if you were found guilty of those crimes in the demon world, you could pay with your life, depending on the Chancellor and his Council of Princes' decisions.

  If I found that he'd had knowledge of Ross' treason and failed to report it; that would be another charge against his name. If he'd been complicit in that act of treason, well, Cassie didn't need those worries while going to school. Not if I could help it.

  Morton King would be brought to judgment and if found guilty, sentenced appropriately for his crimes.

  "You look like you're a million miles away." My new assistant, Pauline, set a Starbucks cup on my desk.

  "Not a million," I lifted the cup and thanked her for the latte. "Maybe a few thousand. Look, if Daniel calls, put him right through, okay?"

  "Sure thing." She smiled and swished out of my office.

  I was having second thoughts on hiring her to replace Cassie as my assistant. Pauline wanted something, and she was the type who'd stand on somebody's head to reach it.

  Daniel's call came ten minutes later, while I read through a case file. The court date was next week and I needed to refresh on the details.

  "We found out where he was for the past year and a half," Daniel informed me. "But he cleared out less than a week ago, according to a neighbor."

  "You think he heard what happened here and that it didn't go Ross' way?" I asked.

  "That's what I think."

  "Doesn't sound good for him, then," I said and paused for a moment. "Anybody know where he went?"

  "No. Saw a realtor poking around, though. Said she'd been asking Mort to sell—somebody wants to buy his bungalow on the beach."

  "I want that tied up if possible—if we end up seizing his assets, that bungalow should go to Cassie and Destiny."

  "We can't tie anything up until we find the bastard," Daniel huffed. "He's still the legal owner—according to Mexican law."

  "Yeah. See if you can pick up his trail, then. Check for bank accounts and anything else. Hell, check the local bars and the cable company."

  "Will do."

  Daniel ended the call after that, leaving me more frustrated than before. Morton King wasn't just twiddling his thumbs for two years—you could bet on that.

  Cassie said her father started drinking heavily after her mother's disappearance. While demons didn't, as a rule, become alcoholics—our systems burned through it too quickly—it wasn't out of the realm of possibilities.

  I wondered, too, if Morton still had contacts in Alabama. Yes, Cassie would have been a good source for that information. She was also the last person I'd ask for it.

  She needed to go back to school, get reacquainted with her friends, study hard and not worry about the fact that I intended to see her father face justice.

  "Frank Hillman's on the phone," Pauline announced on the intercom. "Line four."

  "Frank," I said when I lifted the handset.

  "Just wanted to check in with you," Frank said. "Any word on a court date, yet?"

  "No, but we could hear something any day. We've got everything ready to go. Fli-Bi-Net won't know what hit them."

  "Good. I want to hit them until it really hurts," Frank replied. "They're undercutting my business with an ad campaign right now."

  "Print or airtime?" I asked.

  "Airtime. It's all over the TV. Saw it on the news last night."

  "I'll get a copy and take a look. We may be able to file an injunction, since the software is involved in litigation."

  "Whatever it takes. I can't believe how slimy they are."

  "I'll see to it, and get back with you in the next few days," I promised.

  "Thanks, Parke. You're just as reliable as your old man."

  I didn't tell Frank that had it not been for Cassie, he wouldn't have a case. She'd kept it from being buried like Geoffrey wanted. Geoffrey had sold Frank out, because Fli-Bi-Net paid him under the table. I couldn't do anything about that, because it would give the firm a huge black eye. All I could do was show up and hammer Fli-Bi-Net in court until they gave up and paid Frank for the theft of his software plus related damages.

  "Pauline," I hit the intercom button, "Get me a copy of the Fli-Bi-Net TV ad they've been running lately."

  "Sure thing, Parke."

  * * *

  Cassie

  "I never thought I'd see you again," Binita hugged me before taking the seat next to mine in Immigration Law. "What happened? Where did you go?"

  "I got married," I held up my left hand so she could see the overly large diamond Parke had placed there.

  Binita was an American-born daughter of Indian immigrants. Her parents were mostly traditional and she never ate beef, but she dressed in Western clothing most of the time.

  "What's his name? You didn't even tell me you had a boyfriend," Binita examined my ring.

  "His name is Parke. Parke Worth. He owns a law firm in Seattle. I've worked as a paralegal in his firm the past year, but he talked me into coming back to school to finish my degree."

  No need to tell her I'd known Parke for barely six weeks and been married to him three of those weeks. "I'm glad he knows how smart you are," Binita said, letting go of my hand.

  "Like you don't study every waking minute?" I grinned at her.

  "Want to get together to study two nights a week?" Binita asked.

  "Sure. Library or my place? I actually have a decent apartment, now."

  "Your place?" The dimple in her cheek showed. "We can cook dinner and discuss Immigration or Tax law."

  "Sounds great."

  My shoulders sagged in relief—I wasn't going to be alone at school; I had one friend, at least.

  * * *

  Parke

  I was very surprised to hear from Blake Donovan; he hadn't even met Cassie yet.

  Blake had served as a Supreme Court Justice for the State of Alabama for eleven years and was an ice demon.

  He'd been the one to help get Cassie back into the University of Alabama School of Law, through Evan Haroldson, a water demon attorney in Birmingham. Evan was close friends with the Law School Dean. Once Blake contacted Evan, it was assured that Cassie would get back in.

  "Blake, what can I do for you?" I asked while shuffling loose documents on my desk. They needed to be placed back in the file so I could take it home with me; a few things troubled me about the deposition from one of the witnesses.

  "I understand your wife worked for your firm for a year or so, and did a good job," Blake said.

  "She did," I replied, wondering what this had to do with anything.

  "I have a friend in the Public Defender's office in Tuscaloosa, who could use an experienced intern two days a week. It'll get her extra credit for four hours' work on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Money's tight there at the county level, so an intern working for credit would be very welcome."

  "I hear that," I agreed, attempting amiability. "Whom should I tell her to contact?"

  "Cliff Young," Blake rattled off a phone number. "
He's expecting her call."

  "I'll pass along the message," I said, although I was seething inside. Usually, requests for favors came along later. This one was up front and didn't involve an infringement on my time.

  Cassie, on the other hand, would have her study time cut down by the number of hours a county Public Defender could squeeze out of her. I considered telling the New Prince of Alabama that this was unacceptable. I'd asked for a favor to start with. It wasn't appropriate to start throwing my weight around as Chancellor, now.

  Instead, I was left with the unsavory job of telling Cassie she didn't have a choice in the matter. Cursing wouldn't do any good. I did it anyway.

  * * *

  Cassie

  I didn't get Parke's message until after the last class was over for the day. I listened while walking toward the commuter parking lot next to the law center. When mandatory internship with the county Public Defender sunk in, I stopped in my tracks.

  I didn't want an internship. I wanted my spare time to study, instead of doing research and running errands for someone who wasn't bothering to ask me what I wanted. Somehow, I got the idea that Parke had pulled strings to get me back in school, and those strings were in the process of being pulled back.

  By the time I'd listened to his message the third time, I was opening the door to my car and tossing my book bag onto the passenger seat. Yes, I was having a snit. No, I didn't care that I was having a snit in public.

  Parke and I—we'd never had a fight. Not like the one I wanted to have with him over this. I felt like a puppet again; I'd merely changed puppet masters.

  "Aunt Shelbie, help me stay calm," I breathed when I felt my body go hotter than it should.

  My fire demon wanted out. It wanted to display its anger for the world to see. It took twenty minutes of breathing slowly in my car while the parking lot emptied around me to finally take control. After that, I drove to my apartment, calming my anger every time it threatened to resurface.

  * * *

  Parke

  "How did she take it?"

  I'd told my mother about the situation in Alabama, and the fact that I'd been forced to leave a message for Cassie because she'd been in class when I called.

  Yes, I should have checked her schedule. I didn't. I worried that it was a subconscious and cowardly move on my part not to tell her in person.

  "She responded with a text."

  "What did she say?" Mom pulled a pan of rolls from the oven. Dinner was ready and I was supposed to collect Destiny from her room so we could eat.

  "One word. Fine."

  "Oh, dear."

  "What? What's that supposed to mean?" I asked. Sometimes, I believed that women had a secret code that men would never learn. Cassie said fine. That meant okay—right?

  "She's mad," Mom said. "You put those rolls on a plate. I'll go get Destiny. I really miss having Louise and Cassie in the house."

  Without another word, Mom dropped her apron on the back of a barstool and walked out of the kitchen.

  That meant one thing—she was mad, too. If Louise had been here, she'd be mad because Mom and Cassie were mad.

  All the women ganging up on the one male in the house.

  I figured if Destiny knew, she'd be just as mad as the rest of them.

  A part of me—the small voice in the recesses of my mind—told me I deserved it. "Fuck," I muttered. At least it wasn't near the full moon. Something could get smashed if it were.

  * * *

  Cassie

  At least it was too late to call the PD's office when I got home. If it hadn't been, my anger may have overflowed into our conversation.

  Better to be as civil as possible, since I'd be working for them. My grade depended on it, now.

  "Thanks, Parke," I hissed. Yes, he wasn't on my good list any longer. He could have done research for himself to discover the state of affairs. He could have said not this time, she's too busy this semester. He didn't.

  Fuck.

  With a capital F.

  * * *

  Parke

  "I don't suppose you did any research on this," Mom dropped her tablet onto my lap after dinner. At least Destiny was doing homework in her room so she wouldn't hear.

  "No," I said, lifting the tablet.

  There it was—the first article, from the New York Journal Record, no less.

  Alabama judges send poor to prison because they can't afford to pay fines for minor offenses.

  "Dammit to hell," I snapped before throwing the tablet across the room and smashing it against the fireplace.

  * * *

  Cassie

  By bedtime, instead of having my head filled with immigration law, I had a head filled with Alabama prison facts and statistics. At near two-hundred-percent capacity, it was a source of shame for the entire state.

  Women's prisons had the taint of sexual abuse tacked onto the overcrowded conditions. Getting raped in prison was bad enough. Getting raped in jail because you couldn't afford a two-hundred-dollar fine for a traffic violation? That made my blood boil.

  Just when you thought debtor's prisons were a thing belonging in a Dickens novel, the reality of the modern version came along to slap you in the face.

  I was expected to go to work for the office whose hands were practically tied when it came to cases like this. Too many people were serving time when they should be sentenced to community service or something else to work off their fines.

  Yes, I had to call the Public Defender's office in the morning and sound grateful for such a wonderful opportunity.

  Fuck.

  Fuck the broken judicial system in Alabama. Fuck the judges, politicians and anyone else who maintained that broken system. This was one of the reasons I'd run away from Alabama to begin with—all the way to Seattle. For me, Ross and what he believed tied directly into the Alabama laws and legal system. So much of it needed fixing; it was difficult to say where it could start—if anybody had a mind to fix it.

  Chapter 2

  Cassie

  "Yes, I'm the law student who'll intern for your office on Tuesday and Thursday mornings," I informed the clerk.

  "We've been trying to get more law students for years," Rob Newbourne, the clerk for the PD's office, replied. "Glad to hear you're on board with us."

  I wasn't on board with him or anybody else in Tuscaloosa County's judicial system. I didn't say that, though. "Thank you," I said, as politely as I could.

  "When can you come in to fill out paperwork?" We were down to business already.

  "I can do that today, or Thursday," I said, silently praying he'd say Thursday.

  "Come this afternoon. The PD has some free time between two and three."

  "All right. Thank you." I realized I was repeating the polite thank-yous, but didn't know what else to say. I wanted to say a huge fuck off and leave me alone, but that wouldn't do.

  For the first time, I called Parke a nasty name in my mind. I hadn't heard back from him after I'd sent him the text. He probably thought everything was hunky-dory-okay in Cassie-land.

  If he'd known me at all, he'd know that my response of fine was as far from fine as you could possibly be.

  Three weeks of marriage.

  Not enough time to get to know anybody.

  * * *

  "You know what will happen, don't you?" Binita shook her head as I explained my plight to her. We had dinner and study time at my place as planned, after I'd spent the afternoon filling out paperwork and shaking hands with the few employees at the Public Defender's office.

  The Public Defender, Cliff Young, wasn't there; turns out he didn't think it important enough to meet with me after all. Rob Newbourne, the clerk, showed me around instead. I had a small cubicle to work in, a desktop computer, a filing cabinet and a stack of case files on the desk, ready for me to research.

  I'd held back from sighing, because it wasn't polite.

  "Yeah," I told Binita. "Hours of unpaid research for poor defendants. Fighting to keep people out
of debtor's prison, because they're too poor to pay fines," I muttered, slamming open my Immigration Law book. "Which won't make one damn bit of difference, because that's how the Alabama judicial system operates. It won't matter that we're at nearly two-hundred percent capacity in the prisons we have," I added. "They'll go to jail, because they're poor."

  "Or not white and poor." Binita said what I hadn't. I'd thought it often enough, though. "When do you start?"

  "Thursday morning. I figure I'll be doing research for cases that are already decided in the court's mind," I sighed. I'd never intended to go into criminal law. In fact, I wanted to stay as far away from it as possible, especially in this state.

  "Yeah," Binita agreed.

  * * *

  Parke

  "He was in Juarez a few days ago," Daniel informed me. "No sign of him now, though."

  "Is he nuts? Even if he is demon, nobody in their right mind stays in Juarez," I responded. "I'm a rock demon, and I wouldn't stay there."

  "I'm concerned he may be headed for the States," Daniel said. "Or he may be misleading us, so he can disappear deeper into Mexico."

  "There's that," I agreed. "You think he's that smart?"

  "He kept off your dad's radar long enough," Daniel observed. "No big red flags to speak of."

  "Well, Ross wasn't a reliable source when it came to reporting anything from Alabama, you know."

  "Understood."

  "I have something else," I said.

  "What's that?"

  "Know anybody who's good at hacking into computers? I don't have Geoffrey's or Annabelle's work e-mail passwords, and I think I need them. For professional reasons, you understand."

  "Yeah. I may have somebody. I'll call and ask him to get in touch."

  "Good. The earlier the better."

  "No problem. I'll get back to hunting for Mort."

  "Keep me posted."

  "Always do."

  Less than an hour later, I had a call from Dave Neville.

  "I heard you needed to get into some files," he said after introducing himself and telling me he'd gotten a call from Daniel.

  "I do. Two colleagues in the firm died in an unfortunate accident recently," I said. "I don't have access to their work e-mail accounts, and I need that to keep up with their case files."

  "Sure. When?" Dave got right to business.